Wondrous Words:

The Poetry of Peter McWilliams

(a sampling of his poetry. We thank the author for sharing his

thoughts here).

If you're unfamiliar with Peter's poetry, here's a terrific taste.

I love Peter McWilliams' poetry, I'm sure you will too!

While I was growing up and learning about love and relationships,

and usually having my heart broken and handed to me. I could always find comfort in a wonderful author Peter McWilliams.

It seemed as if he had written each one of his poems just for me. I read them and re-read them til I could have recited them.

They were full of insight and emotion.

And no matter how I was feeling, he somehow had managed to capture these words on paper. Today I still read them, but now I relate to the happy ones and only remember when the sad ones brought me comfort.

   I hope you find something in these Wondorous Words, as I did.


   I don't know if love conquers all.

   I do know it conquers me with alarming regularity.

   I don't want to build my life around you.

   I want to include you in the building of that life.

   Saying goodnight you leave,

   sentencing me to a bad one.

   I do all right alone and better together.

   But I do very poorly when semi-together.

   In solitude I do much. In love, I do more.

   But in doubt I only transfer pain to paper

   in gigantic Passion Plays

   complete with miracles and martyrs and

   crusifictions and resurrections.

   Come to stay

   or stay away.

   This series of passions plays

   is becoming a heavy cross to bear.

   I ceremoniously disposed of all the objects connected with you.

   I thought they were contaminated.

   It did not help.

   I'm the one that's contaminated.

   Oh this one is going to hurt.

   I am falling faster than I said I would

   or thought I could.

   And you aren't helping any.

   You're so comforting and creative and beautiful and full filling.

   I am falling.

   I will flap my arms and pretend to be flying.

   Help Me!

   Catch me with your smile.

   Let's hope you value your freedom with me

   more than you value your freedom to be free.

   How many more times will tears be my only comfort?

   How many times will I see that the potenial is, dead

   and that our love was really in my head?

   How many times will I give up?

   And how many times will I want you so bad that nothing seems good?

   How many times with you?

   How many times with how many others?

   Hold on to your hopes my friend.

   Squeeze them in your tepid clammy hand

   until blood runs from them and trickles onto the floor.

   But what if your dreams are made of clay or cotton candy

   or gossamer wings?

   What can I tell you to do with them then?

   Well, whatever they're made of and whatever you do,

   don't offer these dreams to anybody.

   Because I offered mine to somebody (you) once

   and that somebody (you)

   turned them into rocks and threw them back at me

   from behind their (your) wall.

   And I hope if this ever happens to you,

   you will write a better poem about it than I just have.

   Why must I always fall for chicken shits

   on ego trips?

   You were the best of loves

   You were the worst of loves

   And you left behind several unintended gifts

   Through you I re-recognized my need (uh, desire?)

   for one significant other to share my life space with.

   You commanded in me an unwilling re-evaluation

   of self, behavior patterns,

   relationshipping and a

   corresponding change of attitude; i.e: growth

   I'm nicer to people.

   I'm more in touch with my feelings,

   the things and persons around me.


   And of course, a scattering of poems,

   the best of poems, the worst of poems.

   That never would have happened without your disruptions.


   Maybe I shouldn't have expected you to be home these past two days.

   Maybe I shouldn't have looked forward to this weekend so.

   But I did.

   Maybe I shouldn't be feeling this pain and lonliness

   and anger and alienation

   Maybe I shouldn't love you so much

   But I do.

   I am sure your reasons will be good

   They always are.

   But my pain is real

   It always is.

   I cannot love half assed.

   I must love well and intently and creatively

   or the forces within me turn back upon themselves

   and explode....boom.

   Do you want love

   or do you want someone to drive the

   lonliness from your life?

   Do you want me

   or would anyone do?

   Do you want love in return

   or just to respond?

   I was not put on this earth

   to test your reflexes.

   Excuse me.

   I am currectly afflicted with the world's number one crippler.


   Commonly refered to in non-medical circles as


   Any spare comfort you have to give would be most appreciated,

   although my ability to recieve may be temporarily impaired.

   Thank you.

   The books in the

   Peter McWilliams poetry series are:

   Come Love With Me and Be My Life

   How To Survive The Loss Of A Love

   For Lovers and No Others

   I love Therefore I am

   The Hard Stuff: Love

   Love: An Experience Of

   Come To My Senses

   Love Is Yes 1.800.LIFE.101

   Peter McWilliams