Curt Peterson resides in beautiful Western North Carolina with is wife of 45 years. He is the proud father of eight children and loving grandfather of fifteen grandchildren. He has been writing poetry since the age of eight. He is inspired by all forms of art which use the power of imagery to warm the soul.
The beginning began as such
Quiet and uneventful; abstract.
As we grew from infancy
We placed planks in a neat order,
Tacking together with nails,
Forming a base open on all sides,
Allowing light to fully encompass
Our souls uninhibited.
Time pressed forth and we
Took many paths of interest,
Some this way, some that,
Building walls about our floored foundation.
Acknowledging the need for light to filter in,
We framed windows in our walls of misdirection.
Through one wall a doorway made
Entrance to our inner sanctuary.
But these walls were forlorn and empty;
Searching for an unknown truth.
Our lives half formed, crested dawn's horizon,
Only to find our cornerstones
Were melded together once upon a time.
Our exterior walls, butted to each,
Fell away to drawn curtain folds
And as days passed by into memory,
We singularly became a union of inner dreams.
So we began,
A roof encompassing our remaining walls,
Gave strength to the shivering timber.
Slow deliverance formed an interior
Of security, serenity, love, and trust.
We chose walls of privacy and walls of joy,
Walls for girls, walls for boys,
Painted upon with our reflection of life.
Years went by;
Some parts of our maze gradually became memories,
And as we choose, some clouded, some clear;
For the Lord has made us this way.
Today our doorstep is graced by a
Porch, covered, and railed;
A partial seclusion
But also a welcome
To our travelers in life,
And a freescape to our
Imagination once more.