Poems by Peart – Peart Adventures

❦This page contains a very small sample of poetry I’ve written over the years, reflecting different moments, thoughts, and experiences along the way.

An asterisk (*) denotes works written especially for New Year’s Day* or my Birthday* over the past 15 years**

The Poem ©Peart May 26, 2005

Poetry is the heart of the poet…

Poems are what they are

They are like paintings and left to interpretation

To explain a poem or what inspires a poem makes it less of what is

The poem you wrote as inspired by what you read is what it is

This is what makes us poets

We cannot explain our hearts…

The beating is unattended and then it is no more

When we pause to perceive the pulse

❦

Desert Nights ©Peart August 31, 2000

In a supine pose, I have seen the heavens in wondrous display

When darkness framed the stars and their origins in an endless array

My imagination roared with delight and pleasure at visions so surreal

Captivated and drawn by my mere insignificance heightened its appeal

Beneath me the earthly ties began to liquefy and seem poised to melt

My body trembled from these new sensations, never before being felt

Drawn closer, my spirit enlightened, sought freedom from itself and soared

Soon my body shifted and then lifted for it too was no longer moored

To walk and dance among the stars with their ancient tales told in light

Not only am I a witness, but a willing and joyous participant this night

Having experienced this marvelous event in details so vivid and bold

Will I hold fast in remembering when the stars and I reach the age of old?

❦

Wakatobi ©Peart July 3, 2014

Transported to a world halfway along this spiraling sphere

Gliding way above the clouds as though suspended in the thinnest of air

A full day passes with the shattering of the precepts of time

Down here below a faraway place, so peaceful and sublime

Where the stars of the Southern Cross and the Big Dipper dominate the sky

With an added treat for the pupils of my eye

It is a silvery moon with its phase of crescent

Complimenting and bifurcating the stars so luminescent

Once again to see and view the heavens in glory so bright

Sparkling and twinkling are just a few of the words that speak of the night

And as if a mirror, the sea reflects this celestial shimmering

Upon the Earth I stood gazing, lifted by this perfect offering

❦

Torment ©Peart 8/4/2017

Torment, a torture in the event

Bent on the isthmus of no relent

From the battering of the sea,

Torment

There must be some advent

In relation to how one must vent

Before all is spent

To recall what it really meant

Not so cogent, relevant

Go off on a tangent

Torment

Potent and yet so insignificant

And so it went

This sliver, so thick an unguent

Not as it were to foment

Torment

To seek outright abatement

From virulent to impotent

Ultimately

Banishment of this abhorrent torment

❦

Alive ©Peart 1/1/2026*

What a time to be alive.

A declaration that is often made in elation or exasperation.

Based on experience, collectively this feels surreal

So much exasperation and little elation

Trying to unreel from the surreal

There is a level of numbness and little joy

Perhaps it is just a phase

The angst from toxic governments: disbelief…discord…displacement…

Why won’t they dissolve and disappear?

Our endless nightmares…

Where is the relief to this pessimistic persistence?

Sleep once held promise like a shelter from the storm

And even sleeping has been disturbed

The seemingly relentless onslaught of malice,

Compassion has been shelved or shown the door.

And the original declaration needs clarification

Reflections on being alive in a time when:

Things aren’t so clear,

Not just in instances

But in constant situations

Where the struggles are harder than before

And to be alive is to find a solution to this dilution

Of the spirit that seems broken,

And in need of love.

Love, as we understand it, perhaps is ‘in need of love.’

It is all about love.

The best part about being alive:

Is to know that you are loved

And can reciprocate that love

To emanate and persevere in an atmosphere,

The place that will always remain warm and special.

Turning exasperation to elation:

Find the images that are soothing and appealing

Just living well and trying to live easy

Remember the life you lived before you reached the age of where you are

Find solace in living:

Embrace being alive in this time…

❦

“From Fears to Beers at Seventy-two” ©Peart 4/20/2026*

I woke up this morning and I am seventy-two

Thankful not just for this special day to renew

But for all the days before that brought me here

Happy, hearty, healthy and not driven by fear

Milestones including this, pausing in circumspect

The journey traveled thus far, another day to reflect

Each passing year, on this day I write verse

To summarize my feelings and sentiments, to disperse

Looking back over the seasons of achieving

Consider now, the waning autumn of living (not leaving)

A reality that time naturally dictates

Strolling mindfully to meet the fates

By the Chinese calendar, this is the year of the horse

And at seventy-two, it perfectly astrologically aligns of course

Just another device to mark our time on Earth

Counting from the moment of our birth

No matter how much time we all have left here

Let it be filled with merriment and cheer

And despite the chaos and elements of fear

I am thankful we still have beer

❦

Museum in my Mind By ©Peart, 7/2025

She was dressed in black as

We walked into the expanded room

Simultaneously but separately

The temperature was frigid for the room

It dwarfed the iciness between us

Brought together to initiate a thaw

Deep in our minds we each knew there was to be no such detente

But with the temperature so chilled

She immediately sought to lessen its intensity

And then she sat, folded and melted into the space

I strolled about the room and explored the nooks and crannies as they were

I fiddled with objects

I heard murmurs from others that had originally been ignored

They remained incoherent as I affected change to moveable pieces of objet d’art

There was a stir and someone wanted to leave

At the same time, I thought to leave

With a feeling that our time and purpose in the room was done,

I wanted to reach over and tap her folded shoulder

And say, “I am leaving, would you want to leave together?”

A gesture, nothing more, no hope for reconciliation

But we affected change that was desperately needed…

We parted without a word

And somehow that was the perfect essence of the moment

My mind drifted back to the room and

Immediately after, I returned,

This time alone

I was stung with stimuli stemming from

An array of objects arranged to form individual rooms

The objects by themselves filled the rooms but together they created clarity

Colors dazzled and danced

Shapes shifted and shimmered

A pleasing feast for the senses

I was happy to absorb the splendor and the beauty

My body and mind smiled in unison

I cannot say what I liked the most:

The bejeweled tones?

The sensuous curves?

The crystalline angles?

The harmonious placement of the objects?

I flowed with the displays and longed to become a part of any or all

And I was driven to contribute

An impression that flowed from the effect

That transformed a disparate item into an earring

Just in time to be delicately placed on a female form

That suddenly came to life

To easily glide as a guide

As if to show me these displays

In a new light

Nuances revealed and intricacies shone

And no sooner than we began, my guide

Found her rightful place again

Gleeful to have contributed additional clarity

To continue the theme and harmony of this museum in my mind

❦

Unappealing © Peart 6/17/2019

How many ways to explore the death of desire
Who is to blame for extinguishing this fire
What once was hot with meaning
What has become of your spirit and feeling
In the name of pure pursuit
That desire has become mute
The fire burning in my soul
Diminished to reveal a mere hole
What was once a living passion
Now sits unengaged and out of fashion
Nothing to stir, nothing to stoke
No fire, not even a wisp of smoke
What before seemed so boisterous and loud
Now shimmering brightness tempered under a cloud
Even the pillars of memories no longer invoke
A need, no longer appears awoke

❦

Tradition ©Peart 01/01/2025*

It has been over fifteen years since I began to formalize

With words what I reflect and summarize

Our state of being on Earth in praise or curse,

My chosen instrument has been mainly in verse

Before continuing with this New Year’s Day tradition

I must decide the timbre and tone of this rendition

Optimism, with its glass half full, as a refrain?

Or the pessimistic outlook of the same glass beginning to drain?

As much as we wish we could comfortably ignore

Reality seeps in and there is much to endure

Finding joy and that elusive, magic cure

From despondence, malaise and uproar

Here is a somewhat pessimistic view that dims the light…

Followed by optimism’s answers so bright…

❦

Willingness to escape ©Peart 01/25/2022

Today I allowed myself to be depressed
I let in the darkness and the weight of the world
I sunk into the depths of dullness
Feeling little except the consciousness to make note of the anomaly
I suspended all rituals that validate and propel the day
I breathe because it is involuntary
And I ache because it still makes me feel
I plunge aimlessly into the abyss of my making
Not sure exactly where I plummet
A free fall of will without willingness
A journey for signs of sanity
If sanity would chose a dismal trek
To test the limits of direction and focus
Seeking to define and escape, even for a moment
The balance between perceptions and realities
Unfettered with seemingly nothing to do
The choice of freedom, one step less than courage allows

❦

Ode to Pink [May 21, 2002] Revised [May 22, 2002]©Peart

Pink is the path to perpetual pleasure

Hidden in the dark recesses is the delicate treasure

Velvet smooth and cantilevered crevices

Invitingly sweet, spilling forth nectar-like juices

Perched and juxtaposed in mysterious glory

Pulsating pressures prime the story

Magnificence beyond compare

Pink is the path beckoning to take you there

Pink is contrast to its neighboring hue

Pink lights the dark from its stunning view

Pink manifests nature in all abundance

Pink is the path offering no hindrance

Pink is the purveyor of primal pleasure

Pink is the song in perfect time and measure

Pink is the softness as petals fall

Pink is the delight captivating all

And the joy is slowly revealed

Precious excitement cannot be concealed

Pink is the beginning, middle, and end

Radiating in warmth at every bend

Cries and sighs and whispered sounds

Awakened from the silence, magic abounds

Pink unfolds like any delicate flower

See its beauty, feast on its power

Pink, it holds with awesome fascination

Sparking flashes of brilliance beyond imagination

Pink in thought and deed bears repeating

For in the mind pink is never fleeting

❦

BETWEEN NOW AND FOREVER ©Peart 1985

And tomorrow there will be no more mysteries

For life’s masterful dreams will be fulfilled.
And light will not turn to darkness

Because there will be no light.

And having lost it all between the hours of midnight and dawn,
I cling strongly to the current of the rising sun–

The ultimate sign of a new life and a new day

And now I begin to tell my tale of dreams and semi realities
Conjured up out of the dreams themselves

The expanse is like no other imagining in comparison.

The tender lines of life that hold forth are its naked composition.
And I, a solitary soul to enjoy its rapt beauty

For long ago I came here seeking, what?

I do not know but I am always finding the things I seek.

So, the vast expanse becomes the canvas of my thoughts

As I etch my ideas upon this conceptual blue hue.

Yesterday I had a dream, and today, I live that reality.
I may live tomorrow and by the end of time

I will have dreamed all there is to dream, and live all there is to live,

And the end of time will come to claim all believers of time,

And I shall continue to continue till time itself ceases to be time.

And so, my story goes – having neither beginning nor end – between now and
forever…

❦

TRANSFORMATION ©Peart 1985

In the darkness of the dawn, I glimpsed a waning moon
Accompanying shimmering stars at bay.

The autumn breeze chills as I greet the day.
For moments, time just stands still,

The nearest and brightest star comes into play;
And true light comes again our way.

Shining through the trees, days pure light reveals

Red, amber, gold, brown autumn leaves

A wind, a ripple, thousands more will float to the ground

Forsaking the evergreens, standing resilient to this change;
Like guardians to the ancient secrets of time.

Their vigilance never heeding

And then too, it’s nature’s way in kind

To cover the spectral pathways of our mind

❦

Transformation: Continued ©Peart 1985

Now that the leaves are all gone

With winter on the wings of fall,

When days are short, and nights are long

And howling winds bring an icy chill,
Crisp is the icy air

Red and rosy are the cheeks of a maiden fair.

Rustling – and silence

A day through time and tomorrow, and yesterday, and the same time next year.
And beauty with crystalline forms and life,

Oh, the pain, the pleasure,

But we go on…forever

❦

TRANSFORMATION REVISITED: A Slight Return ©Peart 1985

And what of the stark nakedness

The jagged symmetry revealed by time

The contour of individuality

Elegance, collectively sublime

The dormant growth fondled while secluded in life

With abundance of invoked memory–
Lush green transformed to colors bold.
Memories will last if time persists

Then supplanted by visions of spring
And when the snow has fallen
It clings to the leafless branch

And boughs bend, giving in to resistance

The nakedness has been clothed–
The lush softness portrayed in white

Transforms, this time to crystalline shafts and spikes

And with all this gleam of beauty

The transition flows like the soft wintry petals

That had before reigned in abundance.

❦

DIS…DAYS ©Peart 1984

It has been a very long time and it seems like it will never end.

From the beginning, I had this feeling that wrapped me

Like a shrinking skin.

It was truly one of those dis… Days.

Disillusioned by time and disheartened by space

Just a voice crying out in the night-filled,
Empty place; yeah, definitely a dis… Day.

‘Dis can’t go on much longer

There is too much disorganization here and the stars
seem displaced.

There is no discomfort though… because disco is dead!

So, the phone does not ring nor does it rain.

And the catastrophes are all evenly spaced while

Striking some desolate race

And too, there is no sleep without a disorienting dizziness.

Yes, that elusive sleep of distant dreams and heart stopping fears has disappeared.

How tragic the picture of a time so disjointed and discordant

Disgusting, isn’t it?

There is distress but no disquietude in this state of
dishevelment.

It can’t be discombobulated forever.

Tomorrow I will wear a disguise to hide my disgust.

The thought of this makes me want to disgorge, then disembody.

And who gives a shit if “they” disapprove.

So it is, a dis… Day;

And I took the disinfectant in hand

And proceeded to clean because it always makes me less disenchanted

Maybe it is the cleansing nature of the cleaning that

Disrupts the disharmony of existence.

Therapy in a container of cleaning solution

So much cheaper than say, contracting with another

Wretched soul who has spent a great deal of time

Disenfranchising tortured souls of disturbance and distemper!

So where was I in this discourse… trying to dispense

With the tedium of existence by discretely disavowing the knowledge of my actions

With a sure-fire innocence and dispatch, I sought to

Dissolve my brain and perhaps discolor my countenance.

Directly, I was disappointed with the discouraging
results.

There was no real disregard for me.

However, to say the least, I was displeased.

The dis… Day continues with a dissipation of ever getting it right, whatever it is.

It has been called “post-success depression.”

And the woman dies, and the man turns white.

And when the ‘whitest of the white girls’ say, “We are just alike inside.”

I respond with, “The woman dies, and the man turns
white.”

Imagine the rush of blushing confusion filling that tortured face.

But there is no solace from the dissymmetry.

Dismayed, I continue to dissect the dichotomy of this distillation called life.

Only to discover there are no hidden meanings nor distortions

It would seem, it is only me

And thus, should I delve further in an attempt to

Discern this distended disposition?

And what of the disruption of the dismal search to display discontentment?

A man of distinction does not start to disintegrate at
the thought of disparity.

Oh, how so easily distracted are we.

But the truth shall not be distorted in all its disturbance.

So, what has this lesson disclosed?

Perhaps the rhetorical nature of the question begs for an answer.

And the answer is–the brain has been disengaged for
so long.

And this has served to disabuse the discontinuity.

❦

And even though it is but a simple dress
it seemed to offer a window, a pleasurable ingress
ah, just seeing you, Erica in that dress

As your flesh rounds out your voluptuousness
Tantalizing and hardly subdued
your body pulsed and moaned longing to be pursued

Wrapped in threads of that denim blue color
your body glanced and danced every minute of the hour
As if to teasingly flounce yet invitingly so
one could only imagine the magic of your body’s to and fro
those devilishly delicious creamy thighs

Flowing effortlessly as they rise
lusciously, smooth and inviting, almost gleaming

To be caressed in deliberate strokes of hands that can feel their screaming

The gentle whispers of body heat and the melt
and perhaps lips and tongue pressed into service in those moments felt:

Just desires to confess, with you in that dress
in the realms of the senses
where sweet sweat streams from the pit of passion and meet
in measured rhythms of a heart that beat

Like stolen moments, the first glance of your smoldering flesh
Sparked this wheel of passion and a raw desire to mesh

Endlessly turning and dizzyingly churning
Different from what we know and where we’ve been
Just the devilish desires of our carnal whims
you, like the flower in the morning dew
Moist and glistening, turning slightly toward the sun

It is easy to sit and fantasize about the smoothness of your thighs

Without truly seeing the color of your eyes

And yet again, I cannot even begin to imagine

The full-fledged feeling of the velvet smoothness of your skin

And too I cautiously realize, that I cannot fully begin to surmise

This single minded intention of my own burning desires

My only hope is that you may wish to reciprocate

Just find a way to throw caution to the wind and participate

With my words I try to simply illustrate my desires to penetrate

Until I am told of cease and not further elaborate

I can think of your treasure blooming and flushed in pink

A portal through which I hope we could link

An inviting prospect, a virtual wetland of pleasure

There in no way am I able to begin to measure

So here I sit, straining from the weight of desire

To enter your smoldering cauldron and mystique of fire

And should you say please cease your overtures to me

I would sigh, then smile and adhere to your plea

But in all this, I would be remiss to not let you know

Of my desire and intent to ride the crest and waves of your flow

Casually I sit on the edge, perhaps what could be called the verge

That precipice surrounding that deep down and longing urge

A place befitting as ever for a prelude to a lustful merge

Leading to crescendos of cries driven by torrid paces of thrusting surge

So my interest in you though playfully prurient

Does not fully describe the warmth and feeling of my intent

So I look to you for clues if I should continue

This gradual attempt of sharing a pursuit of intimacy with you

❦

Even though it was but a dream

Your presence was real and serene

Your clothes, you eagerly shed

As you leapt to the edge of my bed

From that moment I will attempt to describe

The actions leading to make our bodies collide

There was the succulent feel of your breasts

To complement the rest of your nakedness

Although unfamiliar, your nakedness to define

The essentials revealed and were left to my mind

As we slid and intertwined

I penetrated you on your knees from behind

The luscious warmth of your crevice did glisten and quiver

And drew me into the fleshy banks of this overflowing river

All engulfed in its velveteen feel

This was no dream, I know it was real

For when I hoisted you up by the waist

The sweet savory of your sex I did taste

The manifestation of the visions described above

Has pushed the desire to devour you as we make love

And if this one sided attention seems insane

It is not meant to inflict on you too much strain

Just the explicit and desirable you

Elevating my keen desire to steep in your sexual brew

It may be classy to go with offerings of subtle verse

As opposed to raw and vulgar laced with words of curse

So here is a small example, I could use instead

I just want your wet pussy in my bed

I know the more overt and crass is easy to do

Especially when in simple terms, it’s, I just want to fuck you

But those words express to you seem so unkind

So I have deliberately kept them out of my mind

Yes, a dream of a man you hardly know

His words and passions with playfulness and glow

Expressing in tender terms his desire to make love to you

And of course there is mystery and intrigue, for it to come true

❦

My life thus far has reached another milestone
A journey begun some 65 years ago
Each moment providing its significance
Towards those years in measurable moments
I remember as if it were yesterday, being thrust into the world
Not a true memory, but a memory of what it must have been like
Resistance, flow and the flood of light
And later as I thrived, I am sure to have fallen
And that feeling of weightlessness as achieved through falling
And better as when suspended, buoyant at some depth
Back to the liquid medium from whence we emerged
To the endless seas of cool salinity
With the pull of the Earth felt from all around
Buttressed against the crush by small breaths, a measured moment
A moment that verifies and solidifies the context of continued progress
Yes, the march to achieve balance and the march to milestones

❦

Digits on Parade….by Peart–01/27/2010

(Dedicated to the Muzz connection, RIP)

Ode to the feet

Used to defeat

The scourges in the regions nether

A touch as delicate as a feather

Deft and nimble

Pushing discomfort to tremble

Perfectly aligned and poised to attack

The knotted points in the flaws of my back

Digits on parade

Digits with precision of a blade

No other message doth this tribute construe

Than to bring praise long overdue

This is how I humbly repay

My debt at the end of the day

With words of tribute to your feet

To which my aching muscle beat a hasty retreat

❦

Ode to Feet, part II—by Peart–6-14-2010

(Dedicated to the Muzz connection, RIP)

The saga continues to which I dedicate

These words to you I must relate

How when you empathically began

There existed no elaborately constructed plan

Just a persistence that we meet

So, you could unleash the magic secrets of your feet

And the rhythm of the walk is like music

So soothing is the contact, so physic

From my heart I feel the dissolution

In my body a transformation and evolution

From darkened places trapped in stiffened pain

Your emancipatory efforts are lauded and not in vain

So again, I sing the praises of your feet

Besides their medicine, delivered precise and sweet

In stolen moments I glance, a lovely treat

Admiring their daintiness so petite

❦

Cathartic moments abound

I am finding salve in facing the

Frustrations of ferocious feelings

Forced into the forefront from sheer

Weight and intensity of not confronting or

Perhaps foregoing the fullness of passions

Some pent-up emotions and pockets of neglect

Time and time again, mournful

Failing to examine the impact of failings

Absorbing like a sponge, wet and unwrung

Perhaps dripping but not enough

Soggy and soaked, if only to be squeezed

To be relieved

As moments come and go

There is a moment when

Realization comes to life and finds

Purchase on the edge of collapse

Fortifying before there is ruin

To vent before the moment of relent

A breath of fresh air

The sigh of relief

The moment we accept and acknowledge

What it meant to have spent

Time in the past that shall remain precious and present

❦