Ther Vine Keeper

"The Vine Keeper . . . messages in poetry & prose" by William S. Peters, Sr. is an Epic offering of Bill's writing. It is 439 pages of a truly transformative work. The Book Size is 8 by 10 Perfect for just $29.95 . . . makes a great Gift of Love and Spirit for the Seeker.
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Friday, September 28, 2012

i can not explain

i can not explain

no, i did not mean to hurt you
no i did not mean to make you cry

i know the words i spoke
were mean
and bitter
and i can not take them back

all i can now do
is live here in regret
but i can not
no i can not
take them damn words back

i have said i am sorry
a million times a day
since that day
when my tongue
went wayward

there are a million excuses
i can come up with
but none of them
can take away this sorrow
they did not yesterday
they did not today
and i know they will not

i have tried to reason
with myself
season after season
since that day
and i can not explain
the pain i feel
when i face my self

i have long ago
stop looking in mirrors
for i do not like what
nor who i see

and though i believe
i have become a better man
here i still stand
with this burden
upon me
that i can not escape

yes, i can not escape
that day
this day
nor tomorrow
i can not explain

i have tried forgiveness
and God
and Prayer
Self Talk
a New Walk
yet i can not walk away from that damn memory
of the things i said
to you

the words still dance in my head
as does the picture of your tears
after all these years
and i still
. . . can not explain

© 22 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

inspired by Rachelle Ferrel’s Song “I Can Explain”

into being

into being

through my Supra-Conscious Mind
i speak the words
“Let There Be’

i then proceed to look
for that which i have conjured

if i look for love
i will find it

if i look for troubles
i will find them

if i look for beauty
i will find it

if i look for joy
i will find it

i i look for pain
i will find it

if i look for self
i will find me

that which i look for
comes to be

this is the power we have
we see that which we look for
for we spoke that what we wished for
into being

© 26 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

you are my purpose

you are my purpose

you are the purpose
for which i was born

this path i walk
has but one destination
and that is to go to my death
where i shall be entombed
in your heart
for eternity

there has been but one vision
that i have held in my eyes
since my inception,
and it’s wondrous beauty
surely rivals any heaven on can conjure
and that is the lovely glow
of your countenance

i look to the skies
and my thought takes wings
for as the clouds billow before me
i see but the shape of expression
of possibilities
of you and i
and our heavenward intention
of love

you are my purpose

© 26 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Wednesday, September 26, 2012



like a moth to a candle
i am drawn to your flame

let my wings burn
in the sweet ecstasy
of being consumed by your fire

let me have my peace

the way is trying
but i fly to you
i but wish to cross over
and become 1
a memory
of my former self

i submit all that i am
to your glow
i am mesmerized
by your flickering truth
that grasps hold
of my consciousness
every “Now & Then”

i but wish to
be 1 with you
for the rest of my eternity

so . . .

like a moth to a candle
i am drawn to your flame


© 26 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

as we are . . . i am a butterfly

as we are . . . i am a butterfly

let us cross the way
and with a stilled reverence
approach the gate
and quietly unlatch this keeper
of the treasures of man

remove your shoes
that we may not infect its virginal soil
with the world and it’s ways
as we step into the garden

we shall tiptoe in peace
leaving our footprints behind us
that Mother may acknowledge
and embrace our presence
with pictures of our Souls
pressed in memory
until the next rain

the flowers have not yet fully awakened
but their fragrance of love
does permeate the air we breathe
and we are enriched thusly so

let us walk the path
to where the fruits of life do grow
and we shall sit upon the dampness
of Mother’s verdant breast
as she prepares and offers unto us
her sweetest of fruits

we shall gorge our spirits with delights
unknown to the weary worldly traveler
but we shall tell of it
when we return and break bread
in communion
with those of our Brethren
who may have lost their way

with their permission,
perhaps the flowers will give
of them selves when they awaken
and allow us to line the path
with their soft demure petals
that others may too come and dine
in this glory of conscious love manifest

let us offer a prayer
let us breathe in the etehric scents of life
and become one with our selves
that we may be in-lightened
and glow

let the nectar of the Gods
drip from our sated lips
that all may see
that our passions have co-joined
with our walk
and our way

let smiles adorn the faces
of we the children of creation
as it was intended

let us dance
without inhibition
for we care not who may be watching
for shame and the vice of “self”
cloaks our expression not

let us embrace
our selves
and each other
as does the Bride and the Groom
for the first time
that leads onward to an eternity

let us look upon our face
in that of each other
and see that we are truly
One energy
One Love
One Spirit
One Expression of all things

Let us simply ‘Be’
the Joy we vie for

let us Die this day
and pick up the life
we have denied
in our blindness
and mindless ways

let us come unto life
as life
for we are life
unto its self

yes we are
that which we speak

let us speak
of abundance
that with fills the cups
of us mortal men
and remove the glazed haze
from our eyes
that we realize
our sovereignty

speak of
good and holy things
with words that reach back
to our past dark ways
and illusions
and give to our memory
this day

this day
when we see our selves
as we are

i am a butterfly

© 25 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Friday, September 21, 2012

my eternal bliss

my eternal bliss

the last Kiss
was the first Kiss
of our eternal Kiss
and i shall embrace in my forever

i would be amiss
if i did not say
i do miss kissing you
this day

and the way of the Angels
has been cleared to the core
of my heart
and because of our first kiss
i dreamed of kissing you
for our eternity of bliss
and that i shall

for that last kiss
was the first kiss
of our eternal kiss
my eternal bliss

© 21 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

eating pieces of heaven

eating pieces of heaven

pieces of heaven were falling lusciously
out of the crying sky
and i stood with my neck arched back
mouth open, catching the wonder of my imagination
on my tongue

i have not done this since i was a child
tasting the sounds of that which pitter pattered
in my ears and my wonder

i was orally harvesting raindrops
that i may one day speak the story of their travels
and the lore of the land and the peoples who lived their dreams

as i thought, as i contemplated, as i quixotically imagined
they began to transmute to words
and implant themselves firmly in my creative cortex
a vortex where my inquisitive child likes to play
along with the many muses who paraded in and out
of this mythical mystical Sandbox of my expressions

we built Castles

this was all too overwhelmingly magical for me
as the lights of Fairy’s tails began to sparkle

i danced with an inward glee
and an unusual happiness took over
and let loose any restraint i may have had

there was an inner quiet playing a song
i remembered from long ago
the silence was not eerie enough
for i could still hear my self thinking in color
and i began to imagine my self dancing in the fields
of lost joys filled with pastels waiting to be borne
in the fragrance of flowers budding
acknowledging my arrival
footstep by footstep
smile by smile

the Sun was beaming in shimmering kaleidoscopic brilliance
pulling at my heart with sweet incantations
beckoning me to let go of my logics
for it needed my clarity that it may shine through me
and i acquiesced to becoming it’s “Ray Bucket”
that i may carry it forth and share it with the world
we danced this day didn’t we

the circles became complete as circles can possibly be
and i saw the lands of many places come before me
to introduce themselves as friends
and relatives i put aside
in the interests of minding my time
as if it were my own

there were delicious twinkles in their eyes
and i wanted to taste every sparkling thought
they ever had that i may see first hand
the glory of what exponential potential
may possibly mean

i was standing on the edge of the Universe
with Chaos chiding me to believe
that all was sacred and nothingness
was my trove of treasures
awaiting my touch of surreality,
the magic i held semi-contained
within the illusory boxes of my supra consciousness

oh my . . .
what have we done i asked my multiplicitous imaginary self.
have we accidentally discovered the undiscoverable ?

have we uncloaked the path from reason to dreams
where all things are but a thought away ?

where does the beyond meet the “now” save but within me
an epiphany i can not let go

in this brief yet eternal finite appearance
my thirst and my hunger were satiated
and the equated  logics i once prized, now failed

but they did what they were suppose to do
they brought me here
where at this very juncture
i have punctured and torn my comfy fur collared coat
that embraced me in my illusory  subjugation

and with that i knew
with a verifiable certainty
i was at the dinner tables of all dinner tables
preparing for a feast that Kings and Queens have been denied
and morsel by morsel
thought by thought
i realized that i was
eating pieces of heaven

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

but you wanna run from your self

but you wanna run from your selfell there is

it was an perplexuous situation
one i would not wish on
any human being

as i stood before the seat
of karmic judgment
i was forced to look reflectively
at my own experiential-ness

retribution was mine to exact
upon my lesser self

the years and times flashed before me
and i had to answer
for each fleeting moment
of my life
my actions
my thoughts
my wishes
and all the misgivings
i ever conjured from nothingness
to something-ness

most of what i saw
had no validity
nor purpose

i saw my vanities
my disdain
my indifference
and my lack of compassion
in times . . .
when it was such an easy thing
to give

i was also allowed to visit
the well of abundant love
that i always knew
resided in me
and i saw my small selfish self
holding on
hoarding it
like it was a treasure
and i saw the measure
of my smallness

more or less
the gift is in giving
i always knew this
but never the less
i must confess
i did not
when i had the ability
to do so

so in the end
and summation of things
it was i that suffered
as my soul was buffered
cloaked with shadows
of my own consciousness
that refused
to let loose
and share
my sovereign fare
and cares
like the wonderful lights
we were created to be
in the image

this all happened
in the flash of stillness
where time had no import
that fleeting millisecond
felt like a million years

i saw tears in the souls of friends
and i offered no respite
nor comfort
nor now
and somehow
my own inner anguish
though not cute
was quite acute

know that it is never cute
when we delude ourselves
into believing
we are not a part of
the continual fabric
of Creation’s continuum flow

and this i know
and have come back to tell

whatever hell there is
it is in you
waiting for you
to continue the venue
of walking towards it
or away

the way to our ascension
is calling us
with each breath
each heart beat
with a repleteness
that will more or less
fulfill this quest
of what we were sent here to do

do you hear it
don’t fear it
for fear is what
they want you to do
live your lesser you
that they may be glorified

so love
offer a hand
any damn time you can
and when you can’t
let it become your intent
for we were meant to be
the Creators
the Progenitors
of the path we travel

and thus we can avoid
those perplexuous situations
where there is no way out
but you wanna run from your self

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

ell there is
it is in you
waiting for you
to walk towards ithe

the visit

the Visit

Silence had socks on
which is why
i did not hear her
when she entered
the noisy room
of my busy mind

she left a note
upon the table
of my contemplative reflective-ness
denoting her brief visit
saying . . .
“sorry I missed you,
I had brought a friend
named ‘Epiphany’,
and we had some wonderful news,
and if we can find ‘Time’
we will possibly return
before the Sunset of ‘Yesterday’”

realizing this ‘Joy’ and i danced.

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

a Barney Moment

a Barney Moment

i was having a Barney-esque moment
i was feeling Purple
and a little Green

i was tired of people attempting to
stuff my mind with Fluff-Stuff,
hoping i would ingest it
and alter my voice
into some animated Cartoon-like

© 20 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

for i can dream

for i can dream

there is a light
that filters through the canopy
of this forest
i now inhabit
and call my home

i look beyond the
semi-cloaking leaves
and i seer the enlightened possibilities
that exists above all horizons

the fabric on my limitedness
begins to fall away
and feathers begin to sprout
as my wings of a grandiose freedom
begin to unfurl
and my consciousness
takes flight
in a new world
of imaginings

what can i not do i ask
and there is a silence
and all of creation is stilled
for no reply is justifiably required
for i can dream

© 19 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

inspired by # 270 : Daydream :
Daily Guidance from your Angels : Doreen Virtue, Ph.D.
Poem Titled “Go Anyway” by Janet P. Caldwell

Tuesday, September 18, 2012



i have searched for knowledge
i have searched for peace
‘pon plains, in valleys
i took my lease

i’ve climbed the mountains
to look beyond
‘pon prayerful knee
did God respond

i heard my breath
in quelled repose
i’ve turned the stone
i’ve stubbed my toes

and through it all
i’ve  turned, i’ve tossed
i’ve gathered things
i’ve paid the cost

and now come time
i must let go
to taste the fruit
of seeds i’ve sown

each path has it’s
own reward
and step by step
i must walk toward

gather your notes
and study them well
and wisdom’s gift
is yours to tell

climb that mountain
survey the field
watch and listen
and life reveals

. . . . gifts

© 17 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

just the shoes of your compromise

just the shoes of your compromise

we all knew
that Winter was on it’s way
though Fall had not yet arrived

men were beginning to contrive
their plans
for the seasons yet to come
in a redundant fashion
just as they did
every year
this time

some were stocking food
some women
taking names
and numbers
in their little black books
the nookie crooks
looking for a warmth
found in
the sweet respite
of temporal
and delusional love

this would do to Spring time
they often said
before they commenced with the lies
and stories
of the glories
of what a Winter relationship
would offer

everyone wanted
a place
a face
to hibernate in
or with
but respect often
was never a considered quantity
in the equation
was it

Christmas was coming soon
go west young man
was the tune
most heard
but most migrated to the South

the leaves began to fall from the Trees
and grown damn men
were down on their proverbial knees
to get a leg in
some needy woman’s door
where the meals were hot
and on time
and hopefully
she was a dime piece
but if she could burn
that was a good start

hearts were expectant
everyone needed something
didn’t they

we all weighed out our options
as the Winter Solstice approached

and we coached our selves into believing
the lies were
could we survive
another year this way

but our fears of loneliness
would not let us alone
and it is known
that the boogie man
took prisoners
just turn out the bedroom lights
and look under your bed
you won’t find Santa

just the shoes of your compromise

©  17 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

I Often Wonder

I Often Wonder

He was a gregarious character. He found a unbound joviality in laughter and visiting Dinner tables whenever the opportunity arose. He would eat to subdue his inner denied anguish, smothering his concerns between the courses of fare he consumed. She on the other hand was a quiet, solemn demure one, looking for soft shadows to duck behind and shield her light, for she feared the questions about what she truly thought. Together they were quite a pair, he with his vice and her with her blankets of obscurity. They each had their own life journey, a sort of acceptance and consignment to a lesser path. They both acquiesced to a small annoying fear that told them it was not safe to stand out and be the magnanimous personalities they always dreamed of, but never dared to be. He played games and faked himself to believing he was that dashing champion he emulated, the one that was found in Comic Books and on Television Sets. She found her contentment in the silence and hauntings of her childhood she had yet to let go. She lived at a certain peace with her delusions that she was still able to smile authentically . . . but she knew the truth, just as he did. Their Sovereignty along with their lives had been marginalized and minimized by their rote.

Many people these days wear such masks, hiding behind something, hiding out from what they wish to be and do have the power to be. I often wonder why do we subjugate our selves to being something that fits in to the misery we don’t even like? Is this truly a safe place for us, or are we destined to continually crucify ourselves upon the crosses of our own making ? . . . I Often Wonder . . .

This is dedicated to all those of us who would like to be expressively true but fear our own shadows of greatness.

Inspired by the Book Titled “I Often Wonder” written by my Friend Alan W. Jankowski.

© 15 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Monday, September 10, 2012

let our Poetry Dance

let our Poetry Dance

i heard her faint whisper
delicately caress the ear
of my soul

she was beckoning me
to put aside “Life”,
for she wanted to play

it was time for us
to frolic
and whirl
and spin
and dance again

pick up your pen
and let me speak
life unto life
for i have
a verse or two
or more
to disperse
to the world

yes, my beloved
has awakened
and cast gently open
the door to my heart
for she wanted
to embrace
those who would live
this day
and become
the way
with poetry

let us play
my dear muse
let us impart smiles
who would not refuse thee
to those who would hear
and understand
and love to all the rest

come my Muse
for the day
this day
is required of thee

teach me to be clear
as we endear
our longings for peace
and tranquility
to the vision of man
and let us not
forget me not

let our passion be
to build Castles
for all the Children
and fill
all the rooms
with dreams
that bear no limitations

let these dreams
be ever abundant
and self manifest
with astute
acutely sagacious
that can not be rebuked
nor assigned to refrain
and let all see
and believe
all that is conceived
is achievable

let us pen a verse
or two
or more
that will light
the unused candles
in the closets of Man’s souls

let us open that door
that holds at bay
the dreams of this
eternal day

let our Poetry Dance

© 10 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Sunday, September 9, 2012



every time we encountered
she would unsheathe her sharpened tongue
and proceed to carve a piece of my heart
for her own demented pleasures

i knew the day would come
that i would have nothing left to offer her
save my retribution
but now
i was still too soft for her
and she knew it

but i bided my time
took notes
i learned so much
during these painful exercises
of her sickened expressions
of love

i even learned to laugh
at my inability
to be strong
in her presence
and deny her advances
but as i said
she knew i was helpless

some how she had managed
to get in my head
and twist my reason
while manipulating my will

something inside me
was enjoying this torturous expression
of what i so wanted to be love

i could not win the race
my hope was waning
with every new sliver she sliced
from my innocence

she was my endearing sadist
and my masochistic proclivities
would not be quelled
she had a spell over me
and with that same tongue
she indelibly carved her name
in the inner chambers
of my heart
and it spelled

© 1 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.



she slipped off her shoes
and softly
from out of my dreams
and into my heart

she was smooth

she was a cross breed
of Satin and Silk
she made me feel
auspiciously a'lacritous
yeah, she turned me on

the way she touched me
cajoled me
to come out of hiding
from that place of
love disconnectedness
where i was residing
hanging out
licking my wounds
of past experiences
and self doubt

she took my fears away
made them disappear
in thin air

i was smitten
and she was hittin’
on all of my
cerebral erogenous zones
as if she knew
my every weakness

and Lawd
was i weak for her
i would be a freak
for her
i would turn
my own damn self out
any day of the week
for her

you see
she knew me
better than i knew my self

now normally
that would be scary
but i did not have time for that
i was too busy
in my
while creating
semi deluded fantasies
of how i could
make her mine . . .
for ever

yeah baby
she was smooth

her very presence
melted my butter

she was the Fresh Hot Biscuit
i had been dreaming of
all my life
and i was ready to
consume her

and the only words
i could now conjure


© 9 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.



It was the year 2002
. . .
you disgraced me
you played me
for awhile, though I'll admit
I had some fun.

But there was too much pain
to daily endure . . .
inflicted on me
. . . by you.

Maybe, it was not your aim
not out loud, anyway.

Mis-sung was the song
the lyrics had changed.
All harmonies were lost in
that tune that we sang.

Instead, beneath the moon-light
an eerie flute played.
Out of time, and out of rhyme
both the instrument and us.

Even still, you begged me to stay.
I could not . . .
So in time . . . I left you.
By staying with your madness
there was nothing to gain.

Too much harm and the pain
too hard to take . . .
the internal alarms began to ring
it was time to cut this string.

I saw the opportunist that you were.
I could not assist, no my love
I could no longer sing.

Your charm, I did disarm
tossing it into our lake.
Tumultuous disaster
was left in the wake.

I had to desist and bid you adieu.
Always know that the love
that I gave is yours to keep.

It was the year 2002.


yes, it was 2002
yes, i did beg you to stay
yes, there was pain
and you were not alone

i was melancholic
for the frolicking love
we once shared
had disappeared
but God did i love you

yes i did notice
how our song
was becoming
somewhat discordant
how i longed
to not hear
that eerie music
playing on that damned flute

i refuted everything
and then you
and finally i tried
i vied
to refute love
but love would not
be denied
nor defied
and i cried
for you
each day
i died
for you

how i so wanted to
see you
walk through the door
of my heart
once more
and take your seat
that has been waiting for
your return

i spurned you
back in 2002
and i have yet to move
that happy place
i yearned for,
for it was you all the time

you were my reason for life
my rhyme
the rife of my joys
and my expectation
my elation
my smile

and now,
i have been exiled
from your garden
where my ardent heart
needs to stay
needs to live
not only the days of past
but that of my now
my tomorrows
and all that i can ever be

i beg of you
to give your self
give me
give us
another chance

you see
you were the world to me
in 2002
and you are now
and i thought you
should know
how i feel right here
and how i felt
in 2002

a Janet and Bill Collaboration

© 9 September 2002 - 2012

Thursday, September 6, 2012

i attest

i attest

my sweet Father
how is it my tongue
can find such sweet flatterous words
when i need thee the most
these times are dire

there are challenges anew
that greet me
at the Sunrise
each day
without fail

they lay with me
each night
as i seek the solace
of sleep

there is no sense in me
that is common
and the wisdoms
of the ages of creation
that of the Sages
are not that of my own
save when you visit upon me
this i have always known

they say
your grace is sufficient
i attest

show unto me
the face that i seek
that i may taste
the joy of your presence
in thy bridal chamber

wed me and bed me
and take from me
my naiveté
that i may see
that you are my provider
the champion
my heart has longed for

thy spirit
has stirred my waters

draw no quarters
take no prisoners
unloosen my bonds
and smite me
with thy mightiest blow
that this darkness
which looms about me
and within
‘til i know of only light

let me again
be pleasing
in thy sight

Oh my sweet Father
e’en in death
there is no peace
without thee
i attest
for i have died a thousand times one thousand
this day

and though the way
has allowed me the power
to pick my life up again
i keep picking
up my old self

renew me
redeem me
break me
and make me
a “New” vessel
that i may hold a New Wine
pressed from
your Holy Vine
by your hands
that has not been moved
by the illusions
of time

i have no plans
that are valid
nor worthy
of an eternity
without you
and thy blessings

and now i am confessing
that without you Father
i am like
an untethered feather
in a cosmic storm strewn gale
immersed in a world
of Sins and Failures
that is not of me
nor my kind

and i wax blind
and sore
to my core
when thou speakest not
to me

hear me
hear my words
feel my longing heart
which aches for your embrace

let my eyes
with a twinkling wonder

let thy servant
look upon thy face
for surely you already know
that . . .
“i need thee”

i attest

© 6 September 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.