Poems written by Bill Peeler

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Bill Peeler

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My wife, Noy and I are Protestant missionaries in Cambodia. We met in a border refugee camp in Thailand back in 1979 while I was a refugee relief worker. She was a refugee. I lived and worked in Mairut Refugee Camp for three years. We have three grown kids. I was drafted into the Army in 1969, served in Vietnam from 1970 to 1971 and honorably discharged at the end of my military obligation. Writing prose and poetry is how I document the life I'm living and how I map out the mental landscape inside my head.

Take Five

Take Five short poem

Twelve thousand days ago, give or take a few I tried counting up the seconds in a year But the numbers got out of hand, wouldn’t stay in line Wouldn’t act like numbers are supposed to I kept making mistakes,

The Opium Smoker

The Opium Smoker short poem

He knows the place Its depths, its visions, its dark illusions And the face in the mirror Opaque with age The wispy beard now snowy white Clouds snag on the mountain peaks Fingers of rain stroke the earth Tracing their

War Dreams

War Dreams prose poem

She builds booby traps from paper clips And ration cans while her GI lover Blows smoke rings But around here a confession constitutes A conviction even if your mouth is full of gold And yet she admits to nothing But

Dead Weight

Dead Weight prose poem

Before we knew it we were on another planet Twelve thousand light years from home Where the hours spun backwards subtracting days Then weeks, then whole months from our lives We stuffed what was left into our rucksacks And with

Dead Weight

Dead Weight prose poem

Before we knew it we were on another planet Twelve thousand light years from home The hours spun backwards subtracting days Then weeks, then whole months from our lives We stuffed what was left into our rucksacks And with the

Ex Nihilo Ad Infinitum

Ex Nihilo Ad Infinitum prose poem

He has half a mind to say nothing The other half won’t keep quiet Muttering to itself half listening Neither seems aware of the other But both handle the wheel with care Concentrating like a hawker hefting Objects to sell,

Pitfalls Of The Imagination

Pitfalls Of The Imagination long poem

It’s a childish sensibility that builds its own walls With drawbridge, moat and ramparts to break down Besieged for years by catapults and archers and fire-slinging foes Before the fortress finally falls and the flag is captured That’s when he

The empty room

The empty room prose poem

He sat on the floor of his old room, his back Against the wall – everything was gone And the room said nothing though it had heard everything He’d ever said or thought, declared or mumbled under his breath The

World Of War

World Of War short poem

I slept, but not in peace For I dreamt of us in another place Of you in a benzene bloom Twisted and stiff in the roiling plumes Of fiery dragons eating your flesh Sucking the breath From your lungs You

Sand On Stone

Sand On Stone short poem

Dirt and dust from dawn to dusk Across earth’s ragged rim A blue sky wide by a sun trek long Red mud cracked dried hard as rock Scarred and scoured end to end A desert to the bone Buzzards tread

The Prayer

The Prayer short poem

Alone in his room Kneeling at the edge of his bed He uttered a prayer Heard only by God And so private, not even the angels Or the four walls were privy To what transpired between them The words, to

Blood Brothers

Blood Brothers long poem

We were the best of friends All summer long and through the fall and winter Cruising through the worlds we knew On beat-up bikes in faded jeans and sneakers Weaving in and out of high adventure Knee deep in grassy