<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139</id><updated>2012-02-16T00:49:44.413-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trails of Their Own</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>50</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-9142841241619542457</id><published>2007-11-27T23:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T23:07:28.308-08:00</updated><title type='text'>These Elements of Turning out New Dreams</title><content type='html'>These elements of turning out new dreams&lt;br /&gt;With shades of clouds and ocean waves&lt;br /&gt;From vividly feel from what our thoughts streams&lt;br /&gt;Part of our joy sometimes craves&lt;br /&gt;Almost like handwriting through its silhouette&lt;br /&gt;Filling our mysterious with gentle contact&lt;br /&gt;Quivering its shadows in new sunset&lt;br /&gt;Something within dreams never exact&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quietly through turnings of each new contour&lt;br /&gt;Never being the same in our thoughts and ways&lt;br /&gt;Like an open box of the clouds to sketch&lt;br /&gt;Lines and new forms to our heart unsure&lt;br /&gt;Awaking reflections in thoughtful plays&lt;br /&gt;Always difficult to resolve and catch&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-9142841241619542457?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/9142841241619542457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=9142841241619542457' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/9142841241619542457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/9142841241619542457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/these-elements-of-turning-out-new.html' title='These Elements of Turning out New Dreams'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-1348009545558496095</id><published>2007-11-27T16:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T16:31:31.044-08:00</updated><title type='text'>From The Forgotten Book Of Lost</title><content type='html'>Nothing is new in this world of blue dark&lt;br /&gt;Filling empty spaces with its gone void&lt;br /&gt;With every height in its flow and spark&lt;br /&gt;Sunshine of past summers to the dim decoyed&lt;br /&gt;Love songs of yesterdays flowing away&lt;br /&gt;Filling the spaces of shadow's gray mist&lt;br /&gt;Now is the song of frosty winter's day&lt;br /&gt;With every aspect of deepness twist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diamonds of raindrops from the autumn past&lt;br /&gt;With tinctured leaves of love songs from rust&lt;br /&gt;Submerged silver of the feelings that go&lt;br /&gt;To subterranean of memories cast&lt;br /&gt;Bouquets in the forgotten book of lost&lt;br /&gt;That still in your dreams might live on and glow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-1348009545558496095?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/1348009545558496095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=1348009545558496095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1348009545558496095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1348009545558496095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/from-forgotten-book-of-lost.html' title='From The Forgotten Book Of Lost'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7111355465308813250</id><published>2007-11-26T08:32:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T08:32:58.932-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Like Trickles of Raindrops</title><content type='html'>Tonight I will travel in tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;Through the dreams of the transient going there by&lt;br /&gt;With fire of autumn tinctures borrow &lt;br /&gt;Under the red yellow evening sky&lt;br /&gt;Flowers of futures for the dreaming&lt;br /&gt;The night in a tranquil sleeping woven&lt;br /&gt;Travelers beyond in watchtowers beaming&lt;br /&gt;Through dimensional forces past cloven&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's of sleep and what's of day's reality?&lt;br /&gt;Where are lines of each ephemeral?&lt;br /&gt;Circling the sky's reflective horizon&lt;br /&gt;Like trickles of raindrops time sets to be&lt;br /&gt;Each in their tide existence flora call&lt;br /&gt;Keep interrupting while dreaming still on&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7111355465308813250?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7111355465308813250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7111355465308813250' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7111355465308813250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7111355465308813250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/like-trickles-of-raindrops.html' title='Like Trickles of Raindrops'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-3389634141457046949</id><published>2007-11-26T07:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T07:58:06.737-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Are the One in My Heart</title><content type='html'>Come here like time's beat&lt;br /&gt;With the going that goes on&lt;br /&gt;Let’s move your dancing feet&lt;br /&gt;That keeps time never done&lt;br /&gt;Like shadows of a falling glow&lt;br /&gt;Flickering light in raindrops&lt;br /&gt;Or feelings that you don't know&lt;br /&gt;When a heart in a beat pops&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come here and be tonight&lt;br /&gt;Like a lovebird set out free&lt;br /&gt;Turning from left to right&lt;br /&gt;Wherever freedoms sets to be&lt;br /&gt;You are the one in my heart&lt;br /&gt;That is repeating my clock&lt;br /&gt;Every beat its tickering start&lt;br /&gt;Will not in wondering get stuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a silence in a lonely room&lt;br /&gt;I will think of you in any way&lt;br /&gt;Be in thoughts a returning groom&lt;br /&gt;Where heart strings mantle and play&lt;br /&gt;Come here like time's beat&lt;br /&gt;Give every matter importance&lt;br /&gt;Never be lonely in a town’s street&lt;br /&gt;Always meet moment’s instance&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-3389634141457046949?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/3389634141457046949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=3389634141457046949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/3389634141457046949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/3389634141457046949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/you-are-one-in-my-heart.html' title='You Are the One in My Heart'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4217610008060127657</id><published>2007-11-26T05:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T05:40:56.612-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Far Into Winter's Dream</title><content type='html'>Hours are going by far into winter's dream&lt;br /&gt;Solitarily they come in a glow&lt;br /&gt;In mystic that in unreality seem&lt;br /&gt;With glistening light and new fallen snow&lt;br /&gt;Footsteps to futures - a coming day&lt;br /&gt;Keeps every thinking pondering on&lt;br /&gt;With passions of the heart turning their way&lt;br /&gt;Till dimness of this world's nearly all gone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I as close up as we can get&lt;br /&gt;Wondering what shall be happening next&lt;br /&gt;When realism waves fail to delusion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have only in our dreams ever met&lt;br /&gt;Through written words of each lonely text&lt;br /&gt;Trying to read between them - their confusion&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4217610008060127657?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4217610008060127657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4217610008060127657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4217610008060127657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4217610008060127657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/far-into-winters-dream.html' title='Far Into Winter&apos;s Dream'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7097298224012119714</id><published>2007-11-26T03:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T03:12:31.333-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Singing the Blues</title><content type='html'>A lonesome soul with nothing to lose&lt;br /&gt;Just with my dreaming to burn on and on&lt;br /&gt;Longing for bright days and singing the blues&lt;br /&gt;Everything of yesterdays that's gone&lt;br /&gt;Feelings inside that whisper so softly&lt;br /&gt;And daydreaming in to its summer past&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts that aggravates and want to be&lt;br /&gt;Full of light view that forever shall last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Touch every string in my heart and soul&lt;br /&gt;Give every breath is fullest of life&lt;br /&gt;In its flames burning the unreachable&lt;br /&gt;Make every feeling dark as a coal &lt;br /&gt;And touches my heart to let its beat strife&lt;br /&gt;Something of which is quite unteachable&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7097298224012119714?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7097298224012119714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7097298224012119714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7097298224012119714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7097298224012119714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/singing-blues.html' title='Singing the Blues'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7109079118565103426</id><published>2007-11-26T02:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T02:35:45.417-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Winter’s Song</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/R0qhVOdDDaI/AAAAAAAAAK0/bTKawZlG1Uo/s1600-h/A+Winter%27s+Song.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/R0qhVOdDDaI/AAAAAAAAAK0/bTKawZlG1Uo/s200/A+Winter%27s+Song.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137095710998728098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A winter’s Song&lt;br /&gt;With its glistens bright&lt;br /&gt;And a heart to long&lt;br /&gt;Through a starry flight&lt;br /&gt;Feelings of dark deep&lt;br /&gt;In bluish moon light&lt;br /&gt;Hours of yours to keep&lt;br /&gt;Of winter's dark night &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope is within my reach&lt;br /&gt;Stealing its sentimental way&lt;br /&gt;Something of a heart to teach&lt;br /&gt;That brightens up each day&lt;br /&gt;So much here to be done&lt;br /&gt;With thoughts that don’t stay&lt;br /&gt;To carry my feelings on&lt;br /&gt;Before they return to gray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A winter’s theme&lt;br /&gt;That carries me afar&lt;br /&gt;Into a Milky Way dream&lt;br /&gt;To catch a wishing star&lt;br /&gt;Feelings toward each of you&lt;br /&gt;Those now reach the same&lt;br /&gt;In winter’s dark dim blue&lt;br /&gt;Of yearnings winter’s flame&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Refrain:&lt;br /&gt;A winter’s Song&lt;br /&gt;With its glistens bright&lt;br /&gt;And a heart to long&lt;br /&gt;Through a starry flight&lt;br /&gt;Feelings of dark deep&lt;br /&gt;In bluish moon light&lt;br /&gt;Hours of yours to keep&lt;br /&gt;Of winter's dark night&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7109079118565103426?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7109079118565103426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7109079118565103426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7109079118565103426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7109079118565103426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/winters-song.html' title='A Winter’s Song'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_gWUyhH7Iz9g/R0qhVOdDDaI/AAAAAAAAAK0/bTKawZlG1Uo/s72-c/A+Winter%27s+Song.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-1975196384210666136</id><published>2007-11-26T00:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T00:48:35.078-08:00</updated><title type='text'>O River Of Time</title><content type='html'>Bring me inside every reaching goal&lt;br /&gt;Like a branch of a collapsing crystal&lt;br /&gt;Let the fields of feelings have deeper role&lt;br /&gt;Control the dark waters with light chorale&lt;br /&gt;Fill them in with spring of oblivion time&lt;br /&gt;Freshness of water that drinks their deeps thirst&lt;br /&gt;Coldness and icily winter's hard rime&lt;br /&gt;Caverns of yearning their hollowing curst&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O river of time let springtime come in&lt;br /&gt;Just for this occasion - with fresh fountain&lt;br /&gt;So I may drink water of resistance&lt;br /&gt;Streams of the victorious that dark shall win&lt;br /&gt;Blossoms of daylight shall rise like mountain&lt;br /&gt;Give every seed freshness existence&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-1975196384210666136?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/1975196384210666136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=1975196384210666136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1975196384210666136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1975196384210666136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/o-river-of-time.html' title='O River Of Time'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4553685105044230117</id><published>2007-11-25T19:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T19:51:00.000-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When You Are Near And Close</title><content type='html'>Give me your heart for a day&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else matters much&lt;br /&gt;How you come here to stay&lt;br /&gt;Each of your love and touch&lt;br /&gt;Spring is not a stranger to me&lt;br /&gt;When you are near and close&lt;br /&gt;With everything as it should be&lt;br /&gt;New touch of a summer rose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreams that appear by its name&lt;br /&gt;Just like the clouds far high&lt;br /&gt;Burning of fresh spring's flame&lt;br /&gt;Every vision that we could try&lt;br /&gt;Danger is now almost clearly gone&lt;br /&gt;For every beckon that appears&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday’s flowers that shone&lt;br /&gt;Are now in their tomorrows cares&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never let yourself be a test&lt;br /&gt;Of feelings that sometimes seems&lt;br /&gt;What is of life and its rest?&lt;br /&gt;Inside and outside just streams&lt;br /&gt;Dreams will become to you&lt;br /&gt;Sending their heart and danger&lt;br /&gt;So much to give and to renew&lt;br /&gt;Never to this love be a stranger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never to this love be a stranger…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4553685105044230117?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4553685105044230117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4553685105044230117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4553685105044230117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4553685105044230117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/when-you-are-near-and-close.html' title='When You Are Near And Close'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5321491040474395461</id><published>2007-11-25T19:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T19:26:46.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Make Me Feel Alright</title><content type='html'>You make me feel alright&lt;br /&gt;Come slowly to be&lt;br /&gt;And rush me through this light&lt;br /&gt;Forever to again see&lt;br /&gt;You softly whispering feel&lt;br /&gt;That reaches to my ear&lt;br /&gt;In everything quite real&lt;br /&gt;So close up here and near&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd rather love you more&lt;br /&gt;Than be alone this way&lt;br /&gt;For waves to reach its shore&lt;br /&gt;Is like a coming of a day&lt;br /&gt;When you are with me my love&lt;br /&gt;Taking much care of inside&lt;br /&gt;There’s nothing more worthy of&lt;br /&gt;Than your touches and guide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to look at you&lt;br /&gt;So innocence coming to give&lt;br /&gt;With what is from you true&lt;br /&gt;And worth its time to live&lt;br /&gt;So please don't be too shy&lt;br /&gt;In the night of our fantasies&lt;br /&gt;When emotions reach the sky&lt;br /&gt;And close to each others eyes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5321491040474395461?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5321491040474395461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5321491040474395461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5321491040474395461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5321491040474395461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/you-make-me-feel-alright.html' title='You Make Me Feel Alright'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4102749514025608761</id><published>2007-11-25T16:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T16:16:08.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Take the Stand for Me</title><content type='html'>Take the stand for me&lt;br /&gt;Make my purpose come through&lt;br /&gt;Everything is to be free&lt;br /&gt;And it's so much up to you&lt;br /&gt;Give love and raise me up&lt;br /&gt;Never let me fall and die&lt;br /&gt;You are what you are on top&lt;br /&gt;Horizons and all the sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take me hand give me freedom&lt;br /&gt;Break away now how I feel&lt;br /&gt;Let your peace and love come&lt;br /&gt;Let it this time be all real&lt;br /&gt;Stay throughout and let's unite&lt;br /&gt;Now's time to spread love around&lt;br /&gt;Loosen knots make them right&lt;br /&gt;Its time to win the next round&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brothers and sisters expectation&lt;br /&gt;Is with and within one and all&lt;br /&gt;Give from hope’s true creation&lt;br /&gt;Everything that is worth its call&lt;br /&gt;Grant me time to hope and love&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to survive the low&lt;br /&gt;Let me feel like the sun here above&lt;br /&gt;With it shining and with its glow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Refrain&lt;br /&gt;Take the stand for me&lt;br /&gt;Make my purpose come through&lt;br /&gt;Everything is to be free&lt;br /&gt;And it's so much up to you&lt;br /&gt;Give love and raise me up&lt;br /&gt;Never let me fall and die&lt;br /&gt;You are what you are on top&lt;br /&gt;Horizon and all the sky&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4102749514025608761?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4102749514025608761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4102749514025608761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4102749514025608761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4102749514025608761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/take-stand-for-me.html' title='Take the Stand for Me'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-1445317469899048216</id><published>2007-11-25T13:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T13:13:25.061-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Dreams in My Daylight</title><content type='html'>Dark dreams in my daylight&lt;br /&gt;Sunrise of the night coming in&lt;br /&gt;Only stars loneliness bright&lt;br /&gt;Twilight's in twinkling spin&lt;br /&gt;Coming and going - bursting&lt;br /&gt;Feelings that run inside me&lt;br /&gt;Like breeze out there gusting&lt;br /&gt;Wanting to be always free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the sun shall shine once more&lt;br /&gt;In its summer's blue sky&lt;br /&gt;Now it's drifting to the shore&lt;br /&gt;In ocean's songs of goodbye&lt;br /&gt;Love is an inside feeling&lt;br /&gt;With much there to realize&lt;br /&gt;Always some mood out stealing&lt;br /&gt;With their billows in disguise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dark is way's - breaking night&lt;br /&gt;In to the sky rise of the far&lt;br /&gt;Lonely wishing in their flight&lt;br /&gt;Defeating dark with a fiery star&lt;br /&gt;Oh let the sun still be inside&lt;br /&gt;With every touch that survive&lt;br /&gt;Shadows of marine waves glide&lt;br /&gt;Dance on their ways to revive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Refrain:&lt;br /&gt;Dark dreams in my daylight…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-1445317469899048216?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/1445317469899048216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=1445317469899048216' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1445317469899048216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1445317469899048216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/dark-dreams-in-my-daylight.html' title='Dark Dreams in My Daylight'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5318256039105738232</id><published>2007-11-25T12:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T12:19:42.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Days of Blackouts</title><content type='html'>These days are now blackouts for the spirit&lt;br /&gt;One by one to the abyss they are gone&lt;br /&gt;Cast into deep and dark winter's mood pit&lt;br /&gt;That seems never to infinities done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lake of blackness running to the ocean&lt;br /&gt;The buried silences to the opened wound&lt;br /&gt;Flowing pass on of moving implosion&lt;br /&gt;With spectrum of its nebulous playground&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A feel that comes with nothing to give&lt;br /&gt;Depression of its sentiments within&lt;br /&gt;This backyard of the low and very out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The insignia of songs that can not live&lt;br /&gt;Into odium loop it shall go and spin&lt;br /&gt;Flocks of peripatetic ways and doubt&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5318256039105738232?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5318256039105738232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5318256039105738232' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5318256039105738232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5318256039105738232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/days-of-blackouts.html' title='Days of Blackouts'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5722979613527284422</id><published>2007-11-25T01:36:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T01:36:47.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dark Heart Shape Glasses</title><content type='html'>In a substratum of heart shape glasses&lt;br /&gt;The mountains and valleys of winter's night&lt;br /&gt;Their moodiness of dark that now's in flight&lt;br /&gt;Rushes with hillsides and morasses&lt;br /&gt;An evening hour that still's here to come&lt;br /&gt;Through cipher shadows that muster around&lt;br /&gt;In to their own dance of nowhere else found&lt;br /&gt;Of gyrating sputters of night's dumdum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frosty way's mirrors around each their bend&lt;br /&gt;Through lost doorways of their hidden meaning&lt;br /&gt;Dreams that are like crows in their own darkness&lt;br /&gt;With wings coming through for unmarked impend&lt;br /&gt;Sights of earth eyes to the lost there gleaning&lt;br /&gt;That to the day becomes less and less&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5722979613527284422?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5722979613527284422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5722979613527284422' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5722979613527284422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5722979613527284422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/dark-heart-shape-glasses.html' title='Dark Heart Shape Glasses'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5276738476721186860</id><published>2007-11-22T11:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T15:30:48.777-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yesterday's Passing Love Song</title><content type='html'>You are my yesterday's passing love song&lt;br /&gt;With every rhythm that feels parting on &lt;br /&gt;Flowers of the past that now there belong&lt;br /&gt;Where feelings are like rivers never done&lt;br /&gt;Every rainbow coming is from you&lt;br /&gt;With the raindrops from cloudy sky that smooths&lt;br /&gt;Its pure mirror images to renew&lt;br /&gt;The perpetuity of every youth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give or take the hourly that goes on by&lt;br /&gt;Minutes waking wishes not to be&lt;br /&gt;Everything in its lonely way&lt;br /&gt;What you can imagine from the clear sky&lt;br /&gt;Something further than the eyes can see&lt;br /&gt;When new dawn comes bringing you the day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5276738476721186860?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5276738476721186860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5276738476721186860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5276738476721186860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5276738476721186860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/yesterdays-passing-love-song.html' title='Yesterday&apos;s Passing Love Song'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-8475471489346016577</id><published>2007-11-22T11:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T11:43:49.894-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Secretive In Their Ways</title><content type='html'>Secretive in their ways&lt;br /&gt;Love songs that come and go&lt;br /&gt;Like stars before the days&lt;br /&gt;Those only at nights show&lt;br /&gt;We must find true destiny&lt;br /&gt;That hides its face along&lt;br /&gt;That carries it again free&lt;br /&gt;Is what makes old young?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give us fire of the light&lt;br /&gt;With sunshine in the morn&lt;br /&gt;The skies close and bright&lt;br /&gt;For yesterdays to yearn&lt;br /&gt;I will always think of you&lt;br /&gt;When the clouds go by&lt;br /&gt;Like a dream into the blue&lt;br /&gt;Away it could again fly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Secretive in its hiding&lt;br /&gt;All sayings gone before&lt;br /&gt;A new glowing tiding&lt;br /&gt;There in the coming war&lt;br /&gt;Lose not love or defeat&lt;br /&gt;Songs will find the truth&lt;br /&gt;With moments to treat&lt;br /&gt;In the hidden and uncouth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Sheetmusic Publishing: &lt;a href="http://www.sibeliusmusic.com/cgi-bin/show_score.pl?scoreid=58983&amp;storeid=-1"&gt;Secretive in Their Ways&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-8475471489346016577?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/8475471489346016577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=8475471489346016577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8475471489346016577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8475471489346016577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/secretive-in-their-ways.html' title='Secretive In Their Ways'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-8419454135174972771</id><published>2007-11-22T11:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T11:42:04.596-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rise Up</title><content type='html'>Rise up a new dawn&lt;br /&gt;That sleeps under night's gown&lt;br /&gt;Before day comes bright and clear&lt;br /&gt;And brushes away darkness fear&lt;br /&gt;That breeze to the soul will steer&lt;br /&gt;Like trees with boughs drawn&lt;br /&gt;Making shades to the lawn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the deep I was born&lt;br /&gt;Through life battered and torn&lt;br /&gt;Where days are full of contrast&lt;br /&gt;Both n future and in past&lt;br /&gt;There are stages that need cast&lt;br /&gt;And both ways slow and fast&lt;br /&gt;Every step will be worn&lt;br /&gt;Through time's weaving corn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Sheetmusic Publishing:  &lt;a href="http://www.sibeliusmusic.com/cgi-bin/show_score.pl?scoreid=46815&amp;storeid=47"&gt;Rise Up&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-8419454135174972771?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/8419454135174972771/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=8419454135174972771' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8419454135174972771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8419454135174972771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/rise-up.html' title='Rise Up'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7612356297810854664</id><published>2007-11-22T11:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T11:37:24.766-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Across Our Thoughts</title><content type='html'>Across our thoughts every notion goes&lt;br /&gt;Sweet reflections of the light there turning&lt;br /&gt;The hours of flickering flames burning&lt;br /&gt;Which into tomorrow come in their glows?&lt;br /&gt;The memory ways in the forward rows&lt;br /&gt;With view from the sky in roads of learning&lt;br /&gt;How clouds drift on through in each turn yearning&lt;br /&gt;Its horizon breezing wind circling blows&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I settle here for what we might give&lt;br /&gt;Standing to fulfill what we discover&lt;br /&gt;Through every learning there to follow&lt;br /&gt;Turning in opportunities relive&lt;br /&gt;The dreams in air with the sights that hover&lt;br /&gt;Fulfilled purpose and those that are hollow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7612356297810854664?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7612356297810854664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7612356297810854664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7612356297810854664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7612356297810854664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/across-our-thoughts.html' title='Across Our Thoughts'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5098289657579938154</id><published>2007-11-18T12:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T12:33:00.565-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Delightful Thought</title><content type='html'>A delightful thought&lt;br /&gt;Because of its pearly glow&lt;br /&gt;Always with winter is caught&lt;br /&gt;Of icily frosty snow&lt;br /&gt;The footsteps of summer done&lt;br /&gt;Now in this darkness ride&lt;br /&gt;Carrying its quietness on&lt;br /&gt;Peaceful thoughts that now abide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is this darkness for?&lt;br /&gt;If not to search and find&lt;br /&gt;What a tomorrow shall store&lt;br /&gt;When all this cold is behind&lt;br /&gt;Through paths of joyful strife&lt;br /&gt;Glistening glowing light&lt;br /&gt;When back come spring's life&lt;br /&gt;With every colors bright&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter is moody now&lt;br /&gt;Dark and lost in ways&lt;br /&gt;Through its deep abyss brow&lt;br /&gt;That in dream weaving plays&lt;br /&gt;Delightful summer gone&lt;br /&gt;We shall see again next year&lt;br /&gt;But winter's often much fun&lt;br /&gt;With our snow angels dear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a song in &lt;a href="http://www.sibeliusmusic.com/cgi-bin/show_score.pl?scoreid=1408&amp;storeid=47"&gt;sheetmusic publishing&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5098289657579938154?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5098289657579938154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5098289657579938154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5098289657579938154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5098289657579938154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/delightful-thought.html' title='A Delightful Thought'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-8848362360568548890</id><published>2007-11-18T10:50:00.004-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T12:05:49.448-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Lullaby for Winter</title><content type='html'>Obviously beautiful&lt;br /&gt;Nursery cold winter's rime&lt;br /&gt;Lingering around dull&lt;br /&gt;In the dark starry lime&lt;br /&gt;Obviously for sleepy eyes&lt;br /&gt;Paling tinctured ground&lt;br /&gt;Snowy white cloudy skies&lt;br /&gt;Breaking icy sound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hush hush to every bloom&lt;br /&gt;That now sleeps under&lt;br /&gt;Winter is your frosty groom&lt;br /&gt;With feelings asunder&lt;br /&gt;Daydreams in darkish deep&lt;br /&gt;The earth in stone gray&lt;br /&gt;For the hours of dusky keep&lt;br /&gt;With twilight’s dim play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously beautiful&lt;br /&gt;Your seeds will come new&lt;br /&gt;And bring down frosty duel&lt;br /&gt;For each one of spring true&lt;br /&gt;Darling keeps a heart still&lt;br /&gt;In hours away lullaby&lt;br /&gt;Every new morning shall fulfill&lt;br /&gt;Promises of a summer sky&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From a song in &lt;a href="http://www.sibeliusmusic.com/html/sibeliusmusic/cached_stores/47_1201.html"&gt;sheetmusic publishing&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-8848362360568548890?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/8848362360568548890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=8848362360568548890' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8848362360568548890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8848362360568548890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/lullaby-for-winter.html' title='A Lullaby for Winter'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-6488062056049915484</id><published>2007-11-18T10:50:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:54:23.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It Was Such a Long Time Ago</title><content type='html'>It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;When the sky was still in its blue&lt;br /&gt;And gold threads in clouds did glow&lt;br /&gt;When sunup was young and new&lt;br /&gt;Hours where carrying dreams on&lt;br /&gt;Filling the moments with beauty&lt;br /&gt;When nothing in romance was gone&lt;br /&gt;And every wish was still within me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;When we were as fresh as the snow&lt;br /&gt;It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;When there were no moods to and fro&lt;br /&gt;And morrows brought us half away&lt;br /&gt;Into the long long of our journey&lt;br /&gt;When new dawn awakened the day&lt;br /&gt;And made us just listen and see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;When my heart was in its young beat&lt;br /&gt;And everybody wanted to know&lt;br /&gt;What was to become in each new meet&lt;br /&gt;When longings were still to be known&lt;br /&gt;Reached with its goals and dreams&lt;br /&gt;And into earth fresh richness grown&lt;br /&gt;Like a river that through valley streams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;When we were as fresh as the snow&lt;br /&gt;It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;When there were no moods to and fro&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a long time ago&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*(“Many people have told us that each of Peter’s poem, is like song with repeated lines somewhere, which in our opinion is the highest achievement that any poem can have – to be singable like a song!” -- from the fans)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-6488062056049915484?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/6488062056049915484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=6488062056049915484' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/6488062056049915484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/6488062056049915484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/it-was-such-long-time-ago.html' title='It Was Such a Long Time Ago'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-2296404175164273729</id><published>2007-11-18T10:50:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:51:02.005-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Hours of Dawn's Rite</title><content type='html'>A beautiful day&lt;br /&gt;Awaken in shade's way&lt;br /&gt;Comes now to play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Golden blossoms white&lt;br /&gt;From under the turf of night&lt;br /&gt;In hours of dawn's rite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The aurora sky&lt;br /&gt;With plenty of cloudlets high&lt;br /&gt;Is going thereby&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-2296404175164273729?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/2296404175164273729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=2296404175164273729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2296404175164273729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2296404175164273729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-hours-of-dawns-rite.html' title='In Hours of Dawn&apos;s Rite'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4908859365648883711</id><published>2007-11-18T10:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:50:22.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Me Time</title><content type='html'>Give me time to be&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to live&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to see&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to give&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me reach my goal&lt;br /&gt;Let me find my way&lt;br /&gt;Let me have a role&lt;br /&gt;Let me learn today&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to use&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to make&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to lose&lt;br /&gt;Give me time to wake&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4908859365648883711?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4908859365648883711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4908859365648883711' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4908859365648883711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4908859365648883711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/give-me-time.html' title='Give Me Time'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-40754094764514801</id><published>2007-11-18T10:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:49:37.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Love Song</title><content type='html'>A love's like something going or pending&lt;br /&gt;The blossoms of white colors and some red&lt;br /&gt;Flowers of summer often in ending&lt;br /&gt;With shades of the earth in season's bled&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awaken a thought and fragrances sweet&lt;br /&gt;Lives of darkly moods under the sky&lt;br /&gt;Its hour in itself of passing day's greet&lt;br /&gt;Before light shoots off and to dark will die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man's love is like a fire existing on&lt;br /&gt;Through a hidden meaning of new morning&lt;br /&gt;With hours awaken in chest of dark things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before love knows it - the desire is gone&lt;br /&gt;Only in its heart lives its yearning&lt;br /&gt;And through the reach of time onward it sings&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-40754094764514801?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/40754094764514801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=40754094764514801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/40754094764514801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/40754094764514801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/love-song.html' title='A Love Song'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7412992777520844661</id><published>2007-11-18T10:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:48:49.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Look Out Your Window</title><content type='html'>There is a good day coming to us all&lt;br /&gt;With a blue sky from the above&lt;br /&gt;A brighten up daylight given us a call&lt;br /&gt;With its spirit and sunshine love&lt;br /&gt;Rising upward every feeling born now&lt;br /&gt;With its beautiful glowing new sky&lt;br /&gt;We can manage a depression somehow&lt;br /&gt;Before it fades out of display to die&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every hour is a turning time's wheel&lt;br /&gt;Waves to shores going to the past&lt;br /&gt;Morning with its beauty tries to feel&lt;br /&gt;What shall be after early hours cast&lt;br /&gt;We are on our way to some affluence&lt;br /&gt;Like a fire climbing through a cloudy mist&lt;br /&gt;Giving reaction in its rhythmic effluents&lt;br /&gt;From end to end in its far drifting gist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a playful break of day here&lt;br /&gt;Giving pleasures from what might be&lt;br /&gt;Now awake to new morn everywhere&lt;br /&gt;Look out your window – think and be free&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7412992777520844661?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7412992777520844661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7412992777520844661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7412992777520844661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7412992777520844661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/look-out-your-window.html' title='Look Out Your Window'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7165321369248553206</id><published>2007-11-18T10:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:46:45.687-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hallucinations</title><content type='html'>No one is going to love you&lt;br /&gt;So bitter sweet in its moments&lt;br /&gt;Love is taking endless falls through&lt;br /&gt;With its ever living strong trends&lt;br /&gt;What you will admire to make&lt;br /&gt;When a day comes to another one&lt;br /&gt;To endless sites of oceans awake&lt;br /&gt;That with its waves to shore’s done&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Give what you need and then go&lt;br /&gt;With lost fixation splitting apart&lt;br /&gt;Whole thing of each worth to show&lt;br /&gt;What begins again from its new start?&lt;br /&gt;In and absent from there back too&lt;br /&gt;Losing every limb toward living&lt;br /&gt;Hours making whiles in the new&lt;br /&gt;Never form darkness much giving&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one is going to be returning&lt;br /&gt;Into unmarked and on moving tide&lt;br /&gt;For hours of vanished are burning&lt;br /&gt;Like a smoking cloudy misty ride&lt;br /&gt;For love's only love while it'll last&lt;br /&gt;Into growing reeling what once was?&lt;br /&gt;Returning to lake of recollections past&lt;br /&gt;Through spinning wheels of endless toss&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7165321369248553206?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7165321369248553206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7165321369248553206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7165321369248553206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7165321369248553206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/hallucinations.html' title='Hallucinations'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-8426917437571114769</id><published>2007-11-17T17:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T17:13:11.697-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing is Forever in Longing</title><content type='html'>We could be in a lonesome song&lt;br /&gt;Feeling the night coming clear&lt;br /&gt;Give what we have seen and long&lt;br /&gt;With everything from inside dear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is forever in longing&lt;br /&gt;Only footsteps away it'll be&lt;br /&gt;Like bell-clocks are ding-donging&lt;br /&gt;So shall our heart beats come free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe in nothing but sweet romance&lt;br /&gt;Coming to take way each pretending&lt;br /&gt;Love with its opportunity chancing&lt;br /&gt;Everything of tomorrow’s hope spending&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just come because I’m aching&lt;br /&gt;Yours to take to bring body and soul&lt;br /&gt;The pleasures within just making&lt;br /&gt;Be everything that I now can need&lt;br /&gt;Something that never grows old'&lt;br /&gt;Inside from your heart love could read&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-8426917437571114769?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/8426917437571114769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=8426917437571114769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8426917437571114769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8426917437571114769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/nothing-is-forever-in-longing.html' title='Nothing is Forever in Longing'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-3538351323891511032</id><published>2007-11-17T17:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T17:12:04.419-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You Are All In My Heart</title><content type='html'>You are all in my heart and the hour&lt;br /&gt;Feeling softly the words that I sing&lt;br /&gt;Like the night opening dark flower&lt;br /&gt;Every passion from the dream bring&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Softly as we go in to kissing&lt;br /&gt;With the days never coming in reality&lt;br /&gt;Every date that is worth missing&lt;br /&gt;Shall be gone for a while in serenity&lt;br /&gt;You are all what I need in my heart&lt;br /&gt;Every soft touched feeling inside&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can be done from apart&lt;br /&gt;While shadows of love in twilight ride&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Softly as we dream in true love&lt;br /&gt;Someone will remember what has ended&lt;br /&gt;Every thought like a cloud from above&lt;br /&gt;Shall be in blossom's so splendid&lt;br /&gt;You are all what I need from begin&lt;br /&gt;Every opportunity that shed its light&lt;br /&gt;Nothing can be done from old spin&lt;br /&gt;Shadows of love are in twilight’s night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are all in my heart and the hour&lt;br /&gt;Feeling softly the words that I sing&lt;br /&gt;Like the night opening dark flower&lt;br /&gt;Every passion from the dream bring&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-3538351323891511032?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/3538351323891511032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=3538351323891511032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/3538351323891511032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/3538351323891511032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/you-are-all-in-my-heart.html' title='You Are All In My Heart'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7101944322800286768</id><published>2007-11-16T20:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T20:51:29.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stars</title><content type='html'>They call us to their heart&lt;br /&gt;When the evening comes in&lt;br /&gt;Love songs that never do depart&lt;br /&gt;In their delighting spin&lt;br /&gt;Their cast’s of many dark ways&lt;br /&gt;Under the starry dusk sky&lt;br /&gt;Until again dawn meets day&lt;br /&gt;And clouds will drift on by&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They give us meanings like dreams&lt;br /&gt;For every occasional song&lt;br /&gt;And in their gleaming beams&lt;br /&gt;They make our feelings long&lt;br /&gt;The nights with stars so bright&lt;br /&gt;And glowing to us from afar&lt;br /&gt;Filling our yearnings with light&lt;br /&gt;From each falling wishing star&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7101944322800286768?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7101944322800286768/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7101944322800286768' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7101944322800286768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7101944322800286768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/stars.html' title='Stars'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-8527313568056359293</id><published>2007-11-16T18:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T18:48:26.216-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Moods</title><content type='html'>I’m in middle of loneliness&lt;br /&gt;Trying to work things out&lt;br /&gt;Feeling the moment’s caress&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is there about&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter moods come and go&lt;br /&gt;Throwing wall’s shadows cast&lt;br /&gt;Filling corner with their glow&lt;br /&gt;Like nothing forever to last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart’s in peace with those&lt;br /&gt;Loneliest ways of dark&lt;br /&gt;Feeling a moment that goes&lt;br /&gt;Never again to embark&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-8527313568056359293?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/8527313568056359293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=8527313568056359293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8527313568056359293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8527313568056359293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/winter-moods.html' title='Winter Moods'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-2998517651887641969</id><published>2007-11-16T18:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T18:47:15.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where the Wind Is Breezing</title><content type='html'>Flowers are all gone now&lt;br /&gt;In to summer's lost&lt;br /&gt;Darkish mood and brow&lt;br /&gt;To the oblivion tossed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where the wind is breezing&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere at the shore&lt;br /&gt;Daydreams gone freezing&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is there more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the tide has given&lt;br /&gt;Now in night is gone&lt;br /&gt;No more of its magic liven&lt;br /&gt;Only new futures on&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-2998517651887641969?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/2998517651887641969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=2998517651887641969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2998517651887641969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2998517651887641969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/where-wind-is-breezing.html' title='Where the Wind Is Breezing'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-720684644911953957</id><published>2007-11-16T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T18:46:12.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Threads We Do Not Know</title><content type='html'>Don't ever let me down&lt;br /&gt;Even though your heart is carefree&lt;br /&gt;Seeds of loneliness might be sown&lt;br /&gt;And make the world spree&lt;br /&gt;Right or wrong is anyone&lt;br /&gt;With their buried crazy battlefield&lt;br /&gt;Central thoughts something spun&lt;br /&gt;What it has within concealed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't look down while I stand there&lt;br /&gt;With my heart in openness&lt;br /&gt;Fields of notion in its glare&lt;br /&gt;In case in point to the egress&lt;br /&gt;We have ways to find disparity&lt;br /&gt;To the threads we do not know&lt;br /&gt;Its indistinctness or their clarity&lt;br /&gt;What ever approach it will go&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-720684644911953957?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/720684644911953957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=720684644911953957' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/720684644911953957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/720684644911953957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/threads-we-do-not-know.html' title='Threads We Do Not Know'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-2914796918351195979</id><published>2007-11-16T18:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T18:45:11.057-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In A Month from Now</title><content type='html'>There are the days&lt;br /&gt;That you and I know&lt;br /&gt;The playfully ways&lt;br /&gt;Of winter's coming snow&lt;br /&gt;Happy in its bending&lt;br /&gt;Through river streams&lt;br /&gt;Frosty glowing sending&lt;br /&gt;In gleaming starry beams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a one blue sky&lt;br /&gt;In roads of the tide's&lt;br /&gt;While clouds fly high&lt;br /&gt;In darkness glides&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is coming&lt;br /&gt;In a month from now&lt;br /&gt;With frosty raised blooming&lt;br /&gt;On windows glass bow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I hiding&lt;br /&gt;From the coldness outside&lt;br /&gt;With thoughts abiding&lt;br /&gt;For the holydays ride&lt;br /&gt;Give what you need&lt;br /&gt;To turn the lights on&lt;br /&gt;With tricks or tread&lt;br /&gt;Till significances are gone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-2914796918351195979?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/2914796918351195979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=2914796918351195979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2914796918351195979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2914796918351195979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-month-from-now.html' title='In A Month from Now'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4888536101150069955</id><published>2007-11-15T10:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T10:50:00.300-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bound To Be That Way</title><content type='html'>Bound to be that way&lt;br /&gt;Everything for a time is&lt;br /&gt;Something in tones of gray&lt;br /&gt;Through the instants of this&lt;br /&gt;Playful with the night&lt;br /&gt;The spirals movements go&lt;br /&gt;Hours in bluish twilight&lt;br /&gt;Through the sky flow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You came to my heart&lt;br /&gt;In the words you speak&lt;br /&gt;With something to start&lt;br /&gt;From strong pulses and weak&lt;br /&gt;I have all to give&lt;br /&gt;Inside from this all&lt;br /&gt;Worlds of mornings to live&lt;br /&gt;In their moments call&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take away every beat&lt;br /&gt;From old worlds of memories&lt;br /&gt;The easy going street&lt;br /&gt;Through life's turning breeze&lt;br /&gt;What have we here close?&lt;br /&gt;Firm the inner part of everything&lt;br /&gt;Like an evening that goes&lt;br /&gt;And new ways of thoughts bring&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4888536101150069955?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4888536101150069955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4888536101150069955' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4888536101150069955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4888536101150069955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/bound-to-be-that-way.html' title='Bound To Be That Way'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-233088906036621023</id><published>2007-11-15T00:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T00:06:12.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In Between the Lines</title><content type='html'>In between the lines&lt;br /&gt;Something needs to be written&lt;br /&gt;Words for word it defines&lt;br /&gt;What in meaning lies hidden&lt;br /&gt;Plastic world outside&lt;br /&gt;Within its lots of name&lt;br /&gt;Through daily routine's hide&lt;br /&gt;Never exactly the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The complicated in us&lt;br /&gt;Finding the in between&lt;br /&gt;Roads away and across&lt;br /&gt;Nothing from the outside seen&lt;br /&gt;You and I of just two&lt;br /&gt;Similar spices in line&lt;br /&gt;Know what gets here through&lt;br /&gt;And forces together combine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterdays were ours&lt;br /&gt;With tomorrow still to come&lt;br /&gt;From lost world's inside powers&lt;br /&gt;That we don't know where are from&lt;br /&gt;Something is never finished&lt;br /&gt;Only like smoke in thin air&lt;br /&gt;In its drifting diminished&lt;br /&gt;Away from reality here&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-233088906036621023?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/233088906036621023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=233088906036621023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/233088906036621023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/233088906036621023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-between-lines.html' title='In Between the Lines'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-1110979728253003652</id><published>2007-11-15T00:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T00:04:46.442-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Is Like an Open Book</title><content type='html'>Making things and make believe&lt;br /&gt;Are the thoughts we do&lt;br /&gt;Through the waves of vision cleave&lt;br /&gt;Every whisper and its coo&lt;br /&gt;Something like the poems are&lt;br /&gt;Finding words to say&lt;br /&gt;Every nightly wishing star&lt;br /&gt;That shines in its dreamy ray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I so to each near&lt;br /&gt;Always with so much to write&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful in mixing dear&lt;br /&gt;Reaching every fancy height&lt;br /&gt;Love is like an open book&lt;br /&gt;Answers to each yes and no&lt;br /&gt;With its irresistible look&lt;br /&gt;Full of undertakings to know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making thought predictin’ on&lt;br /&gt;With a heart not set aside&lt;br /&gt;Till the fluttering is all gone&lt;br /&gt;From the evening and dayside&lt;br /&gt;Always more to say and give&lt;br /&gt;With a wish of every little star&lt;br /&gt;Moments to recollect and live&lt;br /&gt;Though they are from here far&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-1110979728253003652?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/1110979728253003652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=1110979728253003652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1110979728253003652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1110979728253003652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/love-is-like-open-book.html' title='Love Is Like an Open Book'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-1767706705960001782</id><published>2007-11-15T00:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T00:03:05.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Songs of Midnight</title><content type='html'>These days of winter's love songs of midnight&lt;br /&gt;Without its wings - in footsteps shadowed glow&lt;br /&gt;Where darling spring will not prevail in bright&lt;br /&gt;The wandering ways of summer's young flow&lt;br /&gt;Carillons will sing in tones of deep&lt;br /&gt;Starry nights in minutes shadow's brim&lt;br /&gt;Outlines of distance we can not keep&lt;br /&gt;Each corridor of twinkling - in its whim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like the dreams of the traveler along&lt;br /&gt;A conqueror of space many backgrounds&lt;br /&gt;Crossing through obfuscate on outlying roads&lt;br /&gt;Like a long forgotten deep expressed song&lt;br /&gt;Through the ephemeral outlandish bounds&lt;br /&gt;Of the distance dimensional codes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-1767706705960001782?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/1767706705960001782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=1767706705960001782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1767706705960001782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/1767706705960001782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/love-songs-of-midnight.html' title='Love Songs of Midnight'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-7261041867705209456</id><published>2007-11-14T23:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T00:00:28.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Any Sour That Comes</title><content type='html'>Any sweetness comes there on&lt;br /&gt;With hands to clap about&lt;br /&gt;Things and thoughts that are done&lt;br /&gt;In their meaningless doubt&lt;br /&gt;What has been talked and played&lt;br /&gt;With crowds thoughts drifting&lt;br /&gt;Never for a whole lots long stayed&lt;br /&gt;Nor was it quite much uplifting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rush time hours are casting&lt;br /&gt;With their untruth at last&lt;br /&gt;Nothing worth in its trusting&lt;br /&gt;That has showed its roughcast&lt;br /&gt;You have thoughts that are shifting&lt;br /&gt;Into dusty transportation fallen&lt;br /&gt;Every opportunity rifting&lt;br /&gt;With its unhelpfulness installin'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any sour that comes from sweet&lt;br /&gt;As a line of attack thinking&lt;br /&gt;Must be lack or from some need&lt;br /&gt;In its ways of connote stinking&lt;br /&gt;Nowhere roads lead to nothing&lt;br /&gt;Isn't faraway from here or ahead&lt;br /&gt;Only its heart's desires bluffing&lt;br /&gt;By means of their words dead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rush time hours are casting&lt;br /&gt;With their untruth at last&lt;br /&gt;Nothing worth in its trusting&lt;br /&gt;That has showed its roughcast&lt;br /&gt;Circling ways of clouds lifting&lt;br /&gt;Through their drift and sprawlin'&lt;br /&gt;Quarrelsome words their grifting&lt;br /&gt;From the faraway sky howlin'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-7261041867705209456?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/7261041867705209456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=7261041867705209456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7261041867705209456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/7261041867705209456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/any-sour-that-comes.html' title='Any Sour That Comes'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-2325333703027686813</id><published>2007-11-14T23:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T23:59:10.004-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Places in Distance</title><content type='html'>Baby my heart is breakable&lt;br /&gt;Always so much to reach&lt;br /&gt;Each of its ways unthinkable&lt;br /&gt;If it had nothing to teach&lt;br /&gt;Places that are in distance&lt;br /&gt;From every highway road&lt;br /&gt;Giving the feelings a chance&lt;br /&gt;To pull back their load&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every soul has its workspace&lt;br /&gt;Hindering reaching extraction&lt;br /&gt;Each of its own many ways&lt;br /&gt;Validated goals and satisfaction&lt;br /&gt;Places that never seen through&lt;br /&gt;Coming and going delusion&lt;br /&gt;Something always to renew&lt;br /&gt;From all curves of transfusion&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making the unthinkable aim&lt;br /&gt;Something to live in its drift&lt;br /&gt;Always and nothing the same&lt;br /&gt;Creating weight and dead lift&lt;br /&gt;A love is what always is near&lt;br /&gt;Places of worlds initial tries&lt;br /&gt;Coming and going from here&lt;br /&gt;To every beyond belief rise&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-2325333703027686813?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/2325333703027686813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=2325333703027686813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2325333703027686813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2325333703027686813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/places-in-distance.html' title='Places in Distance'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4895922956630041136</id><published>2007-11-14T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T07:29:02.182-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Today Is another Day</title><content type='html'>Today is another day&lt;br /&gt;With things to come and do&lt;br /&gt;A heart pound can't stay&lt;br /&gt;If it isn't whole and true&lt;br /&gt;What you say love remembers&lt;br /&gt;With feeling that from it rise&lt;br /&gt;Like colors of reddish embers&lt;br /&gt;In the shadings and its dyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flowers lie in the snow&lt;br /&gt;Through winter's lonely means&lt;br /&gt;Its yesterday's sunrise glow&lt;br /&gt;In its lost and unseen gleans&lt;br /&gt;What is gone is without end&lt;br /&gt;Like footsteps that are missing&lt;br /&gt;Each hour with years blend&lt;br /&gt;Oblivion's river kissing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has come spotless&lt;br /&gt;With what it gives and takes&lt;br /&gt;And maybe go on thoughtless&lt;br /&gt;With each its love and aches&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- in the making -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4895922956630041136?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4895922956630041136/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4895922956630041136' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4895922956630041136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4895922956630041136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/today-is-another-day.html' title='Today Is another Day'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-8418918781881242306</id><published>2007-11-13T12:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T12:02:05.579-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice Going and Pleasing</title><content type='html'>Something so easing&lt;br /&gt;Singing this for a day&lt;br /&gt;Nice going and pleasing&lt;br /&gt;Never for too long to stay &lt;br /&gt;Like a One Man Band&lt;br /&gt;With tunes from strings&lt;br /&gt;Easy guitar to understand&lt;br /&gt;While its tones just sings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Into night often the dimming&lt;br /&gt;With everything that's gone&lt;br /&gt;Cornered shadows brimming&lt;br /&gt;Carrying their flickering on&lt;br /&gt;Just like when you are near&lt;br /&gt;And everything is quite alright&lt;br /&gt;Because you’re so close here&lt;br /&gt;With me in this candle light&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring me again close&lt;br /&gt;To everything you stand for&lt;br /&gt;Though this tune falls and goes&lt;br /&gt;You’ll still be what you are&lt;br /&gt;Nothing stands forever too long&lt;br /&gt;Just a bit of a moment’s while&lt;br /&gt;And in this our little kind of song&lt;br /&gt;I can not its closeness defile&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-8418918781881242306?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/8418918781881242306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=8418918781881242306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8418918781881242306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/8418918781881242306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/nice-going-and-pleasing.html' title='Nice Going and Pleasing'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-261765503335874375</id><published>2007-11-13T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T12:01:22.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As I Am</title><content type='html'>As I am&lt;br /&gt;I am your tender way&lt;br /&gt;Someone to follow&lt;br /&gt;Earth in its gray&lt;br /&gt;Love song of the deep&lt;br /&gt;As hours pass by&lt;br /&gt;Hold on and keep&lt;br /&gt;Knots to lose and try&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are for me&lt;br /&gt;Night with its stars&lt;br /&gt;Someone to follow&lt;br /&gt;Winter’s top isobars&lt;br /&gt;Can’t you hear me singing&lt;br /&gt;Like a bird in a tree&lt;br /&gt;To your heart bringing&lt;br /&gt;Something of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I am&lt;br /&gt;Without any taken&lt;br /&gt;Winter ways hollow&lt;br /&gt;Through the darks waken&lt;br /&gt;No one but you&lt;br /&gt;Understands this&lt;br /&gt;From the dim dim blue&lt;br /&gt;Outside in vast abyss&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-261765503335874375?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/261765503335874375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=261765503335874375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/261765503335874375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/261765503335874375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/as-i-am.html' title='As I Am'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5266908937358251772</id><published>2007-11-13T11:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T12:00:13.134-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Within Every Approach</title><content type='html'>I will be with you always&lt;br /&gt;Trying to provide and understand&lt;br /&gt;In times of occasions and amaze&lt;br /&gt;Being what you need when strand&lt;br /&gt;Love is so much what's said and done&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is forever identical&lt;br /&gt;Moods of the day pass and are gone&lt;br /&gt;This time and once in for all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be here for ever and a day&lt;br /&gt;In the timers that I live&lt;br /&gt;Frames of mind within me play&lt;br /&gt;Of each I have somewhat to give&lt;br /&gt;Right or wrong I feel quite pleased&lt;br /&gt;Looking around to find trust&lt;br /&gt;I had my moments and they seized&lt;br /&gt;Every one's tradition in to the gust&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might be feeling now differently&lt;br /&gt;Within every approach to be real&lt;br /&gt;For I am still finding what's me&lt;br /&gt;The ways I approach each new feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- in the making -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5266908937358251772?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5266908937358251772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5266908937358251772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5266908937358251772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5266908937358251772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/within-every-approach.html' title='Within Every Approach'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-750918408442809651</id><published>2007-11-13T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T07:06:10.711-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Is Just another Way</title><content type='html'>Love is just another way&lt;br /&gt;Something engaging to be&lt;br /&gt;Waves of emotions that play&lt;br /&gt;Inside time for a heart to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterdays are gone to a rest&lt;br /&gt;With everything that once was&lt;br /&gt;Times came went and are blessed&lt;br /&gt;For the minutes and their buzz&lt;br /&gt;Whiles enduring often touch&lt;br /&gt;In everything they give and do&lt;br /&gt;A heart that's for someone - so much&lt;br /&gt;Every time alters - to renew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is just another way&lt;br /&gt;Something engaging to be&lt;br /&gt;Waves of emotions that play&lt;br /&gt;Inside love for the heart to free&lt;br /&gt;Love is just another way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is here for you and me&lt;br /&gt;Anything that might prove its way&lt;br /&gt;Something that will set us free&lt;br /&gt;Clear the night and give us day&lt;br /&gt;You are wonderful again&lt;br /&gt;With every word you softly say&lt;br /&gt;Love’s so much the very plain&lt;br /&gt;Whatever thing that feels okay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like a day that is with its flowers&lt;br /&gt;Rose's red and its summer sky&lt;br /&gt;A morning that comes - its after hours&lt;br /&gt;Reasons of love without asking why&lt;br /&gt;Not at all to show reality&lt;br /&gt;Only feelings like river streams&lt;br /&gt;All that you sense in its opportunity&lt;br /&gt;That for a while like a rainbow seems&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is just another way&lt;br /&gt;Something engaging to be&lt;br /&gt;Waves of emotions that play&lt;br /&gt;Inside love for the heart to free&lt;br /&gt;Love is just another way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is just another way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-750918408442809651?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/750918408442809651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=750918408442809651' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/750918408442809651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/750918408442809651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/love-is-just-another-way.html' title='Love Is Just another Way'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-2607479385984246532</id><published>2007-11-13T06:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T06:03:16.428-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sway My Way</title><content type='html'>Sway my way&lt;br /&gt;With a love of tomorrow&lt;br /&gt;Gone is yesterday&lt;br /&gt;In gladness and sorrow&lt;br /&gt;Nothing forever is&lt;br /&gt;Only a thought in one's mind&lt;br /&gt;A wishful gone kiss&lt;br /&gt;Our lips left behind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love’s to give all&lt;br /&gt;When it is still here&lt;br /&gt;Summertime until fall&lt;br /&gt;Together everywhere&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm being alone&lt;br /&gt;Never to be the same&lt;br /&gt;Feelings away flown&lt;br /&gt;Nothing of love to reclaim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sway my way&lt;br /&gt;Darling like breeze lost&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts that once did play&lt;br /&gt;Into the air now tossed&lt;br /&gt;Everything’s for a trice&lt;br /&gt;Only here for once&lt;br /&gt;Just like a summer entice&lt;br /&gt;Moments hours and months&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-2607479385984246532?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/2607479385984246532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=2607479385984246532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2607479385984246532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2607479385984246532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/sway-my-way.html' title='Sway My Way'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5737121460109273059</id><published>2007-11-12T19:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T19:24:36.957-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Give You My Words</title><content type='html'>I give you my words from out of the blue&lt;br /&gt;So full of clear sky around&lt;br /&gt;My heart beat's a song made only for you&lt;br /&gt;That's nowhere else to be found&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each reason I give will come and will go&lt;br /&gt;Always be something to reason&lt;br /&gt;Whatever's in the heart and you already know&lt;br /&gt;Like flowers and seeds of fresh season&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try out my heart and how it will read&lt;br /&gt;When you are here close to me&lt;br /&gt;Love words and feelings always to spread&lt;br /&gt;Just like young spring to be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give you my words from out of the blue&lt;br /&gt;So full of clear sky around&lt;br /&gt;My heart beat's a song made only for you&lt;br /&gt;That's nowhere else to be found&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5737121460109273059?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5737121460109273059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5737121460109273059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5737121460109273059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5737121460109273059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-give-you-my-words.html' title='I Give You My Words'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-2674357398809943218</id><published>2007-11-12T18:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T18:55:51.677-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Love Don't Let Me Go</title><content type='html'>Come love sweetheart&lt;br /&gt;Bring me something to say&lt;br /&gt;It’s our day now to start&lt;br /&gt;True love is coming our way&lt;br /&gt;Love love don't let go&lt;br /&gt;It’s in the times and the air&lt;br /&gt;The touches that we know&lt;br /&gt;Whatever comes to be here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some love in youngness too&lt;br /&gt;Darling close inside&lt;br /&gt;Whatever comes to you&lt;br /&gt;And can not from outside hide&lt;br /&gt;Love love don't let me go&lt;br /&gt;It’s in our time and clear air&lt;br /&gt;The touches that we know&lt;br /&gt;What ever comes to be there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love roads each turning way&lt;br /&gt;Longitude to the times past&lt;br /&gt;Clear like a full astray&lt;br /&gt;Smokiness of misty cast&lt;br /&gt;Don’t ever let me leave you&lt;br /&gt;For there is no reason why&lt;br /&gt;Lets be together times through&lt;br /&gt;Till the final of our goodbye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-2674357398809943218?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/2674357398809943218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=2674357398809943218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2674357398809943218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/2674357398809943218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/love-love-dont-let-me-go.html' title='Love Love Don&apos;t Let Me Go'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-359693223762974372</id><published>2007-11-12T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T10:47:13.295-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Incidents Make Their Time</title><content type='html'>Incidents make their time&lt;br /&gt;Inside this crying game&lt;br /&gt;Burning ways deep prime&lt;br /&gt;A going away loving flame&lt;br /&gt;What you feel is nowhere&lt;br /&gt;Coming to its zero’s point&lt;br /&gt;Closeness of a here and there&lt;br /&gt;Missing the exact joint&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You where given a delusion&lt;br /&gt;Rated frustration's doubt&lt;br /&gt;Strangeness in its confusion&lt;br /&gt;Is what it's all about…?&lt;br /&gt;Without a life that's real&lt;br /&gt;A living that keeps you dying&lt;br /&gt;In each of your ways and feel&lt;br /&gt;Without you knowing or trying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something in here mystery still&lt;br /&gt;Nothing but further off lies&lt;br /&gt;Games enough to fulfill&lt;br /&gt;Each of your despondent tries&lt;br /&gt;What have you accomplished?&lt;br /&gt;In the ways that you once had&lt;br /&gt;Only those feelings misdeed&lt;br /&gt;That made those memories clad&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-359693223762974372?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/359693223762974372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=359693223762974372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/359693223762974372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/359693223762974372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/incidents-make-their-time.html' title='Incidents Make Their Time'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-5113629273379264282</id><published>2007-11-11T14:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T14:52:37.892-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seeds of Rejects</title><content type='html'>The wandering times that never came&lt;br /&gt;Vapor of the forest and autumns gone&lt;br /&gt;Leaves from humid earth and hidden aim&lt;br /&gt;Silent bouquets picked in interim dawn&lt;br /&gt;The nothing of gold clay magical thorns&lt;br /&gt;Leaping streams of forgettable retrospect's&lt;br /&gt;Everything waiting in its acorn&lt;br /&gt;Not to be remembered - seeds of rejects&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Times that are like never - though always&lt;br /&gt;Shadows ascension in visional dreams&lt;br /&gt;Covered by verging blooms that is alone&lt;br /&gt;Permanent tenderness casting their rays&lt;br /&gt;On incessant sand and dark water streams&lt;br /&gt;Invisible fabrics and their blockade stone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- under construction -&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-5113629273379264282?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/5113629273379264282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=5113629273379264282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5113629273379264282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/5113629273379264282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/seeds-of-rejects.html' title='Seeds of Rejects'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1100639161723846139.post-4728274461307285699</id><published>2007-11-02T12:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T12:07:08.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trails of Life</title><content type='html'>So many hours have gone&lt;br /&gt;Into the moments lost&lt;br /&gt;Each their way's drawn&lt;br /&gt;To time's brightness glossed&lt;br /&gt;Through days and years&lt;br /&gt;That we became to know&lt;br /&gt;With each one their piers&lt;br /&gt;Of expectations and glow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Follow your gut feeling&lt;br /&gt;To find new-fangled road&lt;br /&gt;With corners out and ceiling&lt;br /&gt;To catch your weary load&lt;br /&gt;Never become too stuck&lt;br /&gt;To what you need to be&lt;br /&gt;Struggle on with lady luck&lt;br /&gt;To make you worth to see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With sunshine and its rain&lt;br /&gt;Everything comes and goes&lt;br /&gt;The struggle settles pain&lt;br /&gt;To directions the wind blows&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is ever too hard&lt;br /&gt;To become or keep effective&lt;br /&gt;Each trail of life scarred&lt;br /&gt;Of personal hope subjective&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1100639161723846139-4728274461307285699?l=trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/feeds/4728274461307285699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1100639161723846139&amp;postID=4728274461307285699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4728274461307285699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1100639161723846139/posts/default/4728274461307285699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://trails-of-their-own.blogspot.com/2007/11/trails-of-life.html' title='Trails of Life'/><author><name>Peter S. Quinn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16150727967735944314</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://www.peter-s-quinn.com/peter.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
