Rod M.Peters Biography

Black bird perched on the eave
Croaking a dissonant note amidst
So many Nightingales
Are you aware of my gaze?
...

Little Peter Featherhead
Dreams away his days in bed
Writing secret vows.
...

He once ceased to see the colors
And the lights
And the glimmering of the sea
And the sparkle in the eye.
...

Yours is wondrous Poetry
Laden with the ripe fruits of emotion,
The lustrous layers of your longing.
One should only very carefully tread
...

I often dreamt of Swiss chocolate raining down
From the heavens above
And quaint Swiss clocks ticking accurately,
Making our messy little lives more precise,
...