I. Blooms

II. Thorns

III. Weeding

IV. Fields Afar

V. Harvest

© Copyright 2002 by Daniel F Mitchell 
(Released to Public Domain – 2004)

View as an Adobe PDF

But hope I have found; a sunbeam streaming,
Redemption winging as a passing dove,
Silver-white through a radiant-cloud dome.
Heaven has arrived, in my soul beaming,
To warm me until I come back to love,
And lend me heart until I return home.

Here I am, garden, standing at your door!
 Here I shall stay a while, in wholesome toil,
With gentle souls of green at my tenure,
 The handiwork of summer to adore.
Where earthworms squirm ecstatically in soil,
 I shall kneel with them in common amour.
I shall feel the goodness of the season,
 And here harvest a full crop of the day,
Free from the shade of purpose and reason,
 Until autumn falls in awesome display.
To my eyes arrive all that needs seeing;
 Strawberries ripe upon an emerald weave.
To my nose goes whiffs of childlike anise,
 Freely sharing delight with all being.
I hear all things that I need to achieve
 Blowing through the cornrows on a warm breeze.
Cucumbers, on yellow bellies reclined,
 Eye the muskmelons five rows away,
Bittered with envy of those sweeter vined,
 Through spite, their own divinity betray.
Horseradish, what foolish horse would venture
 To disturb your rudely-piquant censure?
Though chickweed the fingers of order stains,
 And witchgrass all attempts at justice scorns,
Raspberries, plump upon their briared canes,
 Shall not thwart my determined hand with thorns!
Aphid, beetle, blight, and slug, get thee hence!
 Angelica, trouble yourself no more
With what lies beyond the pickets of fence!
 Let us make heaven here; upon earth’s floor!

Ambitions may listlessly arise,
But I push my cares carelessly aside -
The battle never fought is always won!

Contentment is a lady with sleepy eyes,
A golden-haired bride
Gazing blissfully at the morning sun.

As I bathe in a rapture of sunbeams,
I hail the gay goddess whose face thus gleams,
Gracing this day with her effulgent streams.

Touch the luster of this vision, O soul!
Savor this blossom before it is gone!
Moment of inspiration, make me whole,
With a kiss of jasmine at dawn.

Spring, I would flourish like a bloom of May,
If only I could clasp your hand.
For a while; until summer steals the day,
Let us amount to something grand.

Dragonfly, for now we share the same view.
Your gaze reflects me, and mine reflects you.
Dragonfly, your eyes see what my eyes see.
I am in you, and you are part of me.

Standing like a mighty tree,
With a windy voice I cry.
I feel my roots beneath me,
And my soul up in the sky.

Nameless friend, let your name be charity -
A gentle heart to happiness avowed.
Exalted be cordial disparity,
In a solitary smile from the crowd!
Today I bask in blissful indulgence!
I revel in your felicitous glow!
My beaming face reflects the effulgence,
And bears your message wherever I go.

When we were young and knew how to play,
When fun was our primary care,
We never guessed there would come a day
When we would lose our vision somewhere.

Frothing horses who know no fright,
Across the sea fields glide!
Ride, mighty horses, in breaking stride,
Upon the raging white!

Can you recall that past life,
When we lived day by day,
When we knew not gall nor strife,
And thought only to play!

Picture when we knew no fear,
All dark designs disposed,
When we were disposed to cheer,
So blithesomely composed!

Oh, how I wish we were there,
When dreams were reality,
When I was debonair,
And you were fancy-free!

A bright summer pastel-shaded portrait
Framed in winter’s last color-fading sigh,
Moments in the final moment longed for,
Scenes from all dreams and schemes designed too late,
When grizzled heads on pillows heavy lie,
And passion-fevered lovers rise no more.

I stand listlessly listening to life,
When for a moment my mortal cares cease.
And freed from all the buffeting of strife,
In a sudden hush, I am lulled to peace.

I will sing today of the sum of all I see.
I will concede the worth of my conception.
I will bask in the effulgent mystery
Of seeing and being a moment of perception.

I hear the ceaselessly prayed meditations of the flowing brook.
In fire-hued leaves of maple I read the runes of creation’s cryptic book
Placed so overtly in the face of crystal earth.
For an instant I exceed the measure of my birth!

In reverence I heed the significance of my death.
I distill all the flavors of existence into one breath,
Of frost painted in patterns of divinity upon the window pane,
Of weeping willows whispering along the meandering lane,

Of a rock high upon a cliff side,
Where I once watched eagles glide,
Of a cat that sat on my knee,
Of all life forces that surround me,

Of all living things ever begotten,
Of long-lost tales left to blow forgotten
In a wind that knows well its own time,
Having heard many ages the oft-spoken rhyme.

In a tune fervored but fleeting,
Synchronized to the rhythm of my heart’s unsteady beating,
I sing to the gods who wear this collective disguise -
Praise I speak though it be to my own demise,

In half-remembered lyrics of my childhood,
Diluted to fit my limited understanding of evil and good.
I hope to be more, on angel-winged seeds to ride,
To be a reflection of rose petals, and in the radiance of the stars abide.

Oh, I wonder of many marvelous things,
Of who and why and how!
But I have a field to plow,
And an unknown limit of springs.

So I account my time counting sunbeams of golden noon,
Sowing divination from my outstretched hand
Of mud, of dust, of crumbling sand.
And perhaps I may reap a swathe of the harvest moon.

Before the robins in fickle earnest fly away,
In praise of wonder, in joyous refrain,
With uplifted voice so I sing today,
Should tomorrow and the chance never come again.

Occupied otherwise with anxious concern,
We turned to the low-trilling voice
Fancied within the beating of all hearts that yearn
To follow a path of visionary choice.

In a deep woods, in a world of imaginary glory,
There was a bare spot worn by ancient feet,
Littered with time-bleached bones from many a treat -
Words laying there to be built into a story.

Upon a mountainside we bundled for sleep,
But turning our thoughts to a magical height,
We heard the beckoning fairies weep
To have a share in one more mystical sight.

From a cliff, from a lofty granite steeple,
Water in silver mist cascaded down,
Piping the ballads of lost tales and forgotten people,
Into an emerald pool, where all sorrow drowns,

And only happiness may at last prevail,
Where elves and dwarves together for treasure endeavor -
That never-tarnishing metal of the tale,
Ringed round with iridescent intrigue forever.

Witches, warriors, unicorns, and fauns,
Appeared and disappeared without a trace.
And children of innocence roamed immortal lawns,
Lending good and evil a single face.

I remember when we painted pictures on empty air
To calm the growing twilight.
In the deepening hours of despair,
We wove tales to cheer the night.

Sure is the most uncertain dream,
Dreamt with spirit undilluted,
Pure as the clearest alpine stream,
Flowing ever unpolluted.

True is the poet whose songs raise
Feelings that may never be heard,
Who pains not for a hope of praise,
But for love of the written word.

I’m as free as a bird now,
As free as the wind in the trees.
I can’t fly, but I’ll learn how
To soar like a hawk on the breeze.

I’m as light as a feather.
I’m an antelope stampede.
I’m a soul without a tether,
Galloping at full speed.

My rabbit stops to ponder why
The sun is shining in the sky.
He marvels at the golden light
Reflected in his ruby eye.

He gives a jump with all his might,
And shakes his head in sheer delight.
Just being is enough, it seems,
To make a simple spirit bright.

A strange fire in my bosom gleams,
A brighter sun my soul esteems.
I must be living out my dreams,
This day I bask in sunny beams.

Magic days! Those times when we lived in wonder,
And dreamed while others slumbered numb in their cocoons!
Let us loose the bonds we have unwittingly bound!
In rapturous splendor let us burst asunder!
Where are those lively tunes!
Where are those strains to be found,
Those days when music played from every corner of our being;
Refrains of joyful morning like Lilly blossoms strewn upon our shoulders!
Give me back that sleight of hand,
The power that made reality from seeing,
That alchemy that could change sand to boulders
And distant planets to sand!
O where is that potent drug of youth,
When we made cake from the crust of crumbs,
And shooed our troubles away like gnats from honey,
When fantasy sufficed as truth,
When we held the world under our thumbs,
And in our need turned laughter into money!

O red rose lips that I kissed boldly in the April rain,
Whose fragrant petals made heaven of my bed!
I wish to kneel before that bold bloom again,
And let the scent linger forever upon my forehead!

© Copyright 2002 by Daniel F Mitchell 
(Released to Public Domain 2004)

View as an Adobe pdf

Sometimes there appears to be no gain
Here in the garden of dreams.
The fruits of my labor seem in vain.

The butterfly screams.
The maggot deems
My flesh the milk of demise.

I pass through the garden door,
In awful surprise.

But I am wiser than before.

How long was the day!
How clear was my sight,
Until fast-falling night
Changed my perspective in every way.

Praised be poetry inspired of seething grief,
Though wrought of unpolished words and rough lines.
No poem was composed of greater belief
In the power a poignant stanza defines!
Blessed be song born on uncertain quills,
Distress poured freely forth from anguished throats,
Whose lyrics the crudest comfort impart!
Sing on, verse whose theme a troubled soul stills;
Intoned in mourning of delirious notes
That solace an aspiring poet’s heart!

Spare me all the warm and cheery stories
  Of precious-supposed deeds that are quite done.
  Worn and wasted are yesterday’s glories!
For me my better days have come and gone.
  My weary head is full laden with lies.
Me thinks it high time truth were exposed -
  Whose hand shall wipe the sand from my eyes,
And turn out the light, and seal my sight closed?
  To hell with yesterday! I know today
I am full to my sad soul with sorrow.
  I see no real sense in further grieving.
I don’t care if the world wants me to stay.
  For a long time now I have been leaving.
I’m on my way! I’ll see you Tomorrow.

She holds her head between her hands.
Her face is flushed with crimson fire.
Upon the edge of loss she stands,
Staring into the abyss of her desire.
Once by passion deeply burned,
Her dreams of love have now been spurned.
And paradise has become hell.
Perhaps in limbo she is doomed to dwell,
From warmth and light apart,
As some burned-out star.

Helter-skelter, she felt her heart
Swelter like a throbbing scar.

I cannot say from whence she came,
Nor for what cause she came at all;
The sweetly-smiling peach-faced dame,
Who met me at the garden wall,
And like the morning spoke my name,
As tinkling silver bells might call,
Who with a touch of golden flame,
Filled full my heart with warming fire -
An overwhelming sole desire,
To which the daffodils aspire,
A yearning to burn ever higher!

I cannot say just why she left,
Nor why she ever came at all,
To make a worn man feel bereft,
Here withered, dried, and feeling small.

Forgive me, teacher – your wayward student,
  Belatedly returned to the straight track.
Would that your wisdom might judge prudent
  Reassessment, now that I have come back.
Though woefully late to heed guidance spurned!
  And all my textbooks long rendered to dust!
I was made to see as you once avowed.
  I am sincere at last – my lessons learned!
This solemn praise of scholarship, I trust,
  Should raise your sullen brow, and make you proud.

Farmer, from dawn to dusk in faithful toil,
  You endure without asking or knowing
The final price of servitude to soil -
  Never reaping quite as much as sowing,
Trading seasons for an interest of years,
  Your harvest in labor twice over paid.
Summer grows shorter, and winter colder.
  Your eyes grow dim, but your debt never clears,
Till a most grim reaper, with honed blade,
  Comes leaning on your languishing shoulder.

The law said it had to come down -
Some code against blighted trees in town.
The tree had been there before the law,
But law protected cold hearts from thaw.
And they issued forth a death decree,
For an old and weary walnut tree,
A mighty black walnut that had fed,
With nut-laden branches overhead,
More mouths than the oldest could recall.

Young and old came to witness the fall,
The execution of their great friend,
Determined to stand by till the end -
Some not believing their tree could die,
Some already beginning to cry
Before the first chain saw motor growled.

How steel against the tempered wood howled!
Loosing their tempers blade after blade,
Stone-faced men, in frustration, forbade
Onlookers to come nearer the fight.
Having lost their initial delight
At profit, they set their minds to pride -
In case mourners were moved to deride.

A cheer went up when one chain saw broke,
As if there was hope for loving folk.
But more saws came, like wolves in a pack,
Determined to break the old tree’s back.

There transpired a morning-long battle,
Before the trunk began to rattle,
And then popped like an exploded dream,
Sagging with a bloodcurdling scream.

The great walnut fell with many hearts.
The saws growled louder as the giant lost.
Staggered minds calculated the cost.
People a half mile away could tell
When the friend of many ages fell,
And concluded its long endeavor.

The fall shook many souls forever.

He was small, even from a boy’s perspective,
A tiny, ugly man with a sun-leathered face.

I had seen him twice before – once fixing the roof of a barn,
And once on a January morning, cleaning a cow stall,
Leaning on a fork half again as tall as his most exaggerated stance.
But I had never seen him so close, so real, more than a yarn.

I heard he had spent time in prison for stealing a car on a dare,
And once he was married to some Westside hag,
Who still asked him every year to the Valentine dance.
But that was all I knew for sure, except for the jokes going around.

And now there he was, sitting in the alley behind the liquor store,
Leaning back awkwardly against the stucco wall,
As if he were worried someone might come out the back door.

He didn’t see me coming from the other direction.
He was too busy sipping from a bottle in a brown paper bag,
Grimacing with strain as if laden by some unseen weight,
Countering some imagined argument with a sibilant objection.

Since just getting by was my only objective,
I calculated I could pass unchallenged, as long as I didn’t grin or stare.
I tried to keep to the center of the alley, taking the middle ground,
My focus straight ahead to avoid his possible inference of disrespect,
Keeping an expression that implied neither threat nor disgrace,
So as to seem completely impartial to his aspect.

But when I came even with him, I couldn’t resist a sideward glance.

He scowled, with lifelong humiliation behind his frown,
And growled at me with a worn-out sort of hate,

"What you lookin’ at, kid! Better walk away!
I could beat you even on a bad day.
I can take any two guys in town!"

Before the close of my day,
Before my short show must end,
Before I am history,
I should take the chance to say,
I consider you my friend -
You, whose face I could not see.

Kept apart by time were we!
Therefore, before I must go,
I do the least that I can do.
To you who looked up to me:
I leave this so you may know
I never looked down on you.

At the garden’s edge roamed a vicious beast,
Visible only to retrospect truth,
For it engaged in a gradual feast,
A piecemeal consumption of naive youth.

First it licked the fair features from a face.
Next it ate strength away without a trace.
Then it tore dreams and memory apart.
And last it made listless a restless heart.

When a dark horizon becomes your sky,
And your sunny visions are swept away,
When cultivars of hope wither and die,
And winter in your garden comes to stay,
When frost nips the buds of mortality,
And cold blow the winds of reality,
When all desires in a tempest expire,
And your dreams for tranquility are through,
When the whole of existence your mind numbs,
Gaze longingly at the sky, and suspire.
There is little a battered soul can do,
But to weather out the storm when it comes.

  It’s hard to burn a candle in the rain.
It’s hard to turn a drowning spark to flame.
  My memories have frozen in the cold.
But my hands are too numb to feel the pain.
  Darkness and light appear to be the same.
I believe that soon I shall lose my hold.
  Now that only raindrops and tears remain,
It seems the storm shall only grow stronger.
  The horizon is too clouded to see.
Still I will linger here a while longer,
  Watching the puddles forming around me,
With fading hope some miraculous fire
  Might arrive to lift my spirit higher.

Deep is space beyond the winking starlight,
  An endless firmament surpassing sight,
That stretches further than wonder can stray,
  Past the authority of night and day,
Into the awful shadow of the sun,
  Where past and future are forever one.

Despair, foul despair, to what dismal end!
  – Gloom that shrouds souls with a deepening dusk,
Dimming the light on which faint hearts depend.
  Damned be the depths from which proceed such musk!
Tainted whispers that from the abyss wend!

Author of oblivion, cursed be;
  The fiendish tenets of iniquity
That dictate a measure of misery,
  Taunting consciousness with mystery,
But to banish all for eternity.

Let the sun shine for a while,
As it burns up my days,
Upon the frown in my smile,
And the pain in my gaze.

Let the world rage around me,
For I am deaf and dumb!
I am blind to all I see.
And my soul is growing numb.

Genghis Khan knew how to fight;
Assailing the world with offhand spite,
Without regard for wrong or right,
Vanquishing everything in sight.

Who made fleas,
And lung disease,
And merciless germs
No prayer may appease?

Who thought up tapeworms,
And bloodsucking ticks,
And hornets wielding poisoned pricks,
And scorpion stings,
And mosquito wings,
And the bleaching bones the vulture picks?

Who made the lonely coyote moan,
And hungry turtles that eat their own?
What mind conceived of crocodiles?
What sadist designed hyena Smiles?

Who gave ants fire,
And raccoons rabies,
And dogs the desire
To decapitate babies?

Who made pigs’ greed,
And jaguars’ speed,
And white sharks with their voracious need?

Who put points on the Brahma’s horns,
And claws on cats,
And plague on rats?
Who gave roses such vicious thorns?

Who indeed?

Who painted the mighty tiger’s disguise?
And put the gleam in the polar bear’s eyes,

Who put murder in my brother’s heart,
And hate in my sister’s head?
Who tore the fabric of peace apart,
And trampled universal innocence dead?

Who made death my only friend?
Who made me look forward to the end.

A raving raven ranted to me,
From the crotch of a midnight tree,

This is what we earn through misery.
This is the end, the one and only end.
This is the last of forever, today.
This is hurt we cannot mend,
When soul and body rend,
When time, as we measure, passes away.
This is the universal plight,
The wages of our fight,
The end of pain and pleasure, sadness and delight.
This is the face of fright, on a cruel and heartless night.
This is my message, the awful truth I tend.
We reach the unknown bend,
The dubious friend,
On whom we must depend.
These are the last scenes of all we ever knew.
This is the final note,
The irrevocable quote
We utter when we are through.
This is when we search for what we cannot recall.
This is the end, the darkest place of all.

Bird, I heard the heavy words your song imparts,
But such dark art has little effect on stoic hearts.

The bird sits in the doorway of her cage,
  Halfway between freedom and security,
    Halfway between the window and me,

Weighing the merits of adventure and old age -
    Perpetual seeds or riotous play.

Her ultimate question is to stay or fly.

But certain mundane is more sure than uncertain fame.
  Consideration is but an entertaining game.

Expecting that she would leave me someday,
  Knowing that birds, like dreams, wither and die,
I never bothered to give her a name,
  Fearing the pain of her loss when it came.

Weep, children, with a thousand tears!
With a voice of one, wail your plight!
Assert the weight of all your attrited years!
Plead in vain to the deaf and bottomless night!

Time, in its wanton apathy,
Envenoms with seconds and hours
All to the heartless hold of infinity.
Milk of youth in the space of a moment sours.

Time conquers with a sure onslaught -
The slaughter of a silent thief,
Reducing all consequence to utter naught,
Gradual so as to rob mourning of grief.

With pendulums that never cease,
With a broad, meticulous sweep,
Beats the cadence of the celestial timepiece,
Across the vast reaches of eternal deep.

Cross a sea of corrupted blood,
Rise the waves that never subside!
What day may escape the omnipotent flood?
What creature crawl from the inexorable tide?

Grand delusion, mass confusion crowds inside my head.
I wish I could sort all the pieces out.
A dark incursion, cold aversion fills my thoughts with dread.
I wish I had the answers to allay my doubt.

In vain the hand of despair is raised to heaven,
To the clouds from which descends no relief,
There falls no rain that may wash away terror.
Fearful faith is the failing heart’s leaven.
Prayer forms upon the lips of wishful belief,
With no divine finger to point out the error.

The gods appear to be deaf, dumb, and blind,
Or there is no architect of my pain!
At length we prisoners in our cold cells find
Our cries for mercy are all in vain.

If the hungry one is starving, who will give him sustenance?
If the naked one is freezing, who will find him raiment?
If the fearful one is troubled, who will hear his lament?
If the melancholy one weeps, who will brighten his countenance?

Man must do all that he can,
If the answers are to be found.
Man rises upon the shoulders of man,
And sees he is the only god around.

Spring blooms with flowers and diseases,
With wrongs and rights that no reason appeases.
The baby sneezes.
The old man wheezes.
The universe does as it pleases.
Hope flickers, then is gone.
November frost freezes.
And the world moves on.

Leave me ecstatic pain;
An awful-aching heart
That no thought may allay!
Let no remnant remain
Of those dreams torn apart
By sorrow and dismay!
Let love and life be past -
Vanished in a black hole.
Leave me but pain at last,
To numb my heavy soul.

I wonder what perverted mind
  Designed the lion’s mane,
And made the shark and all its kind,
  And gave the cobra bane.

What hand set the hare in its hole,
  What cruel, sadistic sort,
That arranged for a timid soul
  To be the hunter’s sport!

What fiend would wean a worm on silk!
  What sick and twisted thought;
That puts the poison in the milk,
  To make a calf’s flesh rot!

What monster formed the vicious test
  That fashions trusting heads,
Then snatches fledglings from the nest,
  And children from their beds.

I wish to think that some fair power
  Will compensate for pain,
And see that each and every flower
  Gets equal shares of rain.

I wish to think, before I part,
  As my destruction nears,
There must have been some gentle heart
  That gave these sad eyes tears.

Spring, what magic do you bring;
That puts the life in everything?
At one kiss from the May queen,
The phlox bloom and the grass turns green!
Everything I build falls down.
Everything that I see turns brown.
What strength lies in your embrace!
What splendid light shines from your face!
Shine on me in the dark deep!
Remember me, when last I sleep!

When death and his minions
Come calling at my door,
Spare me your opinions.
My glassy eyes ignore.

Ignorance is a blissful state.
I’m sure you will agree.
Death is truth, and truth is fate,
And truth may set you free.

But you shall find
That I have a mind
To deny what has come to be.
So spare me your groans,
And the funerary moans.
And no soulful soliloquy!

At my demise,
Don’t find it a surprise
That I ask you not to weep.
‘Cause when they blanket me with clover,
I just plan to roll over,
And fall back off to sleep.

Thus, when it comes time to let me go,
Just pretend not to see.
And please, don’t anyone tell me,
‘Cause I don’t want to know.

Where is my dear friend? Where is my brother?
  Why should he not embrace me as before?
I know him as well as any other -
  He was once here, but he is here no more.
Why do you look upon the silence there;
  His form – weight discarded as if shed
Of old life and traded for a new one.
  What folly causes you to stand and stare,
And think that beyond his flesh he is dead,
  When you cannot tell me where he has gone?

I cannot see how fallen friends can be
Gone forever – fallen eternally.

In half-mad sequences of memory,
I see their faces again and again,
Like shadow shapes of smoke and emery,
Whose reason mere logic cannot attain.
With voices of falling water they speak,
From deep pools or across some distant lake,
Whose concepts constantly abrade my mind.
And though they never reveal what I seek,
Far beyond what my senses can partake,
They hint of peace my soul may someday find.

House, where is your light?
Where is your fire tonight?
Who left you all alone?
Who took the marrow from your bone?
House, where is your home?
Where did your heart roam?

Winds on the acropolis, forth expelled
  Across unforgiving waves, daily blow.
By an ancient unkept promise compelled,
  Moan mournful words of many morns ago.
 

It is I, Theseus, no more to roam,
  With redeeming account of my story,
Victorious, arrived from my fight!
  Aegeus, your son is safely home,
Whose brow is crowned in glory,
  Whose ships return with sails of white!

When spirits of autumn through the leaves moan,
   Hear the persimmon tree sadly intone
Mournful melodies of days long ago,
   When he stingy cuss stayed at his window,
Vigilant from early dawn till late eve,
   Watching the fruits form like gold in his pash,
Accounting with hash marks upon the sash.
    Lo, how the weeping branches sorely grieve
The memories they are fated to relate;
    Of the old man searching for any flaw,
Wickedly beating his daughter-in-law,
    Cursing her to the dogs as an ingrate,
For the theft of a single bite of gold.
    On lonely nights the tree sings to the wind,
Of thieves, long gone to their graves, who sinned
    In a ballad that each season is told.

He strikes at the stroke of midnight,
At the last peel of a distant bell,
When the dark owl sounds the witching hour,
And the laments of the bullfrogs swell.

He appears in a moonlit bower,
When the rings round the moon are bright,
Whispering a wish that he once made -
A wandering ghost from a wishing well.

He creeps slowly through the tall grass,
For a reason only he may tell,
Concealing his face beneath a shroud,
When whippoorwills from their mantles cry.

His shadow falls across the window,
A silhouette of the deepest shade,
When the cold wind murmurs through the trees
Of promises broken long ago.

He hides behind the lilac bush,
When clouds sweep low across the night sky,
Waiting for his penitence to pass,
Calling some mystical name out loud.

He gives the gate a gentle push,
Canting the words of some ancient spell.
But there is no magic to appease
A wayward ghost from a wishing well.

Behind a cloud-veil hidden,
The stars turned their gaze away
From scenes in heaven forbidden -
A parable of dismay.

Woe was she!
And for what yearning?
Such that she could not see
Beyond the fire of her soul burning.

Stately proceeded the lady of night,
Shadow-shrouded her dark face,
Raven-haired, and robed in white,
Stirred from her restless resting place.

Wandering, squandering an infinity,
Upon the swards of yester thought,
In search of tranquility
That death alone could not wrought.

Among the cool stones,
Wailing of doom,
Liberated of flesh and bones,
Stepped she from tomb to tomb,

Her misery sung, for a hundred years,
Of fortune missed and love lost,
Unassuaged by time or tears,
Turned straightway to silver frost.

For the cup of death
Quenched not her thirst
For another drink of breath
As fresh as was her first.

Raised she the goblet of fate
To blood-ruby lips pursed in prayer,
But did not partake of the sacramental bait
Laid to venom her soul to eternity’s lair.

Cheered the noblest ghosts,
Made numb by endless procrastination,
And raised the wine of empty toasts
To her refused consecration.

And sounded the mocking howl
Of wind upon the fog-scented air.
And scorned the night owl
From his secret chair,

Until the face of dawn
With widening eyes
Of denial looked on
In feigned surprise,

While an usher of mist
Bore her from the ceaseless fray,
From the guest list
Of another day.

Thus to her sepulcher she retired,
To abide another morrow,
Where she dreamed, and conspired,
And silently sipped the spirit of sorrow.

Owner of a lonely heart,
When all friends from view depart,
In the halls of rue detained,
By love alone be sustained!

What is mere time and space
To the unyielding embrace
Of love wrapped around a soul?
Console in forever as your goal!

Owner of a broken heart,
From a tranquil mind apart
Torn by loss of love and hope,
With what succor may you cope,

Left to misery’s device,
You, e’er denied paradise,
Left to pangs that never cease,
Sore discovering in silence no peace!

Weep for the living,
And not for the dead;
Some solace giving
To the bereft instead.

    Some elusive yet persevering conception
  Rouses them to phantasm from their restless beds,
Where somnolent incense of musk-breathing twilight
  Weaves visions from the fabric of their illusion.

    Filaments of reason twine into perception,
  Filling with sweet opiate dreams their muddled heads,
Until they are oblivious to mortal plight,
  Content to resign themselves in stark delusion.

    Aimlessly wandering across an endless plain,
  Where dry-throated winds whisper through the sweeping grass,
Where light and shadow blend in diverging gray shades,
  They dwell in a realm that is neither day or night.

    They search for answers though their efforts are in vain -
  For no will of mind has ample force to surpass
The cloud of stupor into which perception fades,
  As ethereal expectations veil their sight.

    They slumber, but in their sleep find no true repose,
  For they are never really awake or asleep.
Lost within an ever-shifting fog of fable,
  They stumble along on a never-defined quest.

    And whether they are alive or dead no one knows;
  For the stream of all consciousness flows slow and deep.
And in their best reckoning they are unable
  The certain truth of greater fiction to attest.

    They try to fly, but in tempests of time are blown.
  Amidst faceless ghosts calling for them to come back,
They wish they had the strength of mind to run away,
  To flee an anguish eternally unrelieved.

    But sleepwalkers search for what can never be known.
  They wander through fate, following a forlorn track,
Seeking the direction from which they went astray,
  Finding errant footsteps may never be retrieved.

    Adrift in universal flow,
    In its rip tides do not tarry.
    Should your burden be too much to carry, 
    Let it go! Let it go!

I walked the streets of yesterday,
  Wandering a forlorn track,
Believing I might go back
  To time I left along the way.

But I couldn’t find the past.
  It had gone astray,
As untended things may,
  Like some dream not meant to last.

In a mirror of retrospection,
  I stared long at my reflection,
Wondering if it could truly be
  The face reflected there was me.

They glide like specters along the wayside,
  Shadowy visions of a life gone by;
Scenes of happiness that appear then hide -
  A sore heart more a portion to deny.
There! They are there! Does your mind see them not?
  – Those days far away removed from worry,
When joy was all and sorrow had no say -
  Remembrances in fevered wishes wrought.
If you would seize them you must hurry!
  Savor the significance while you may!

Now they are gone, like phantoms of tired mead,
  Long faded as gray into the fog night,
Passing on with inestimable speed,
  Out across the limit of mortal sight,
As lamplight that flickers on fair faces
  Only to be trimmed until the flame seems
Never to have burned but in rhymes amiss.
  Fled are the ghosts of those haunted places,
Though the silhouettes are sufficient for dreams
  Left on the eyes of those who reminisce.

My head clouds as though draped in shrouds of fate;
  Shadows wrought by sudden remembered scenes
That fill full my heart as with some leaden weight.
  In my eye I find no viable means
Of extricating joy from this dark hour.
  When the dream is done, the price must be paid!
Unseemly that I should glean rue this day
  From snapdragons blooming in the bower!
But sunshine gives way to deepening shade -
  This moment and I shall soon fade, as they.

The evening of grief has passed to night.
  Forever! Forever! The day is done.
The final summer has slipped out of sight.
  The flowers are wilted and the leaves gone.
O hold my trembling hand! I am so sad!
  I am sorry that I am just a man.
If you could think of something nice to say,
  Then maybe I would not feel quite as bad.
To dream of when across the grass we ran,
  Singing of sunshine streaming on the day!

What is cold if I have never touched frost upon silent stone?
What is warmth if I have never known a gentle embrace?
What is companionship if I have never been left alone?
What is salt if I have never tasted tears upon my face?
What is kindness if I have never experienced cruelty?
What is loss if I have never seen the face of fairness?
What is life if I have never worn that petrified look of incredulity
Graved in the instant of awareness?

Time is the fire in which we burn.
Life is the forge in which we turn.
Of temporality we learn.
For immortality we yearn.

Age is the anvil that tests our mettle,
And tempers us for a timeless settle.

I drank a very bitter cup.
It tasted much like rue.
‘Twas folly sure to pick it up.
Have you been drinking, too?

Let me treat you to a higher state.
An elixir is what we need -
Laughter’s prime inebriate!
A panacea indeed!

From pestilential blackness his soul is freed -
From the adulterate peace of silent woe.
He has labored from burdens of long ago
That his wretched soul in its sorrow decreed,

Pining away a thousand years,
Until his grief lost its madness,
Until hope replaced his sadness,
And his shackles rusted with tears.

Behold the rekindled fire -
His bosom filled with desire!

On one cold and bleak November,
Clear as my mind may remember,
Stirred the ember of my love of life to life again.
Long before the sun ceased shining,
Eclipsed by my soul’s deep pining,
Blackened by the stark divining
That my heart beat on in vain.
From a dark cloud’s silver lining,
Gentle on my windowpane,
Came the subtle song of rain.

Came a song so sweetly singing,
To my very marrow ringing,
As celestial angels earthward arrive to rein
In wayward spirits to repent,
By way of divine chorus lent
To liberate kindred bent
On clinging to damning bane.
I heard voices, heaven-sent,
Joined in eloquent refrain
With the subtle song of rain.

In a rain so softly falling,
I fancied nature’s mother calling,
Until my fleeting streak of sorrow waxed wane,
Entreating me with blissful weeping,
Love of life upon me heaping;
Blessings of eternal reaping –
Power to cleanse the darkest stain -
To my soul, sublimely seeping,
Notes to soothe the deepest pain,
In the subtle song of rain.

Tempestuous showers
Do roots firmly tether.
Thorns on the flowers
Turn soft hands to leather.

Subsiding rain,
And conquered pain,
Turn the vine to bloom again.

O overripe sweetness of victory!
For the intoxicant of triumph’s mead!
To know the slightest moment of glory!
So that someday, when in defeat I bleed,
Lying dying beneath my mortal shield,
Thrust heart through by an invincible foe,
An oath to past fortune may be my toast!

O great gods, grant me a trophy to show,
When the sun sets upon the battlefield,
As I raise my sword in one final boast!

The mortal spirit should be as fire,
Striving as if desire never fails,
Ever yearning, ever burning higher!
Though life dims to the darkness of the grave,
Let it not without glory fade into inexorable night!
While will prevails,
Let intellect rave!
Let love be bold!
Lest divinity straightaway surrender its light,
And warmth yield unresisting to cold.

    Give me will, and I shall fight.
    Give me teeth, and I shall bite.

Provoke me, and shall I not defend?
Taunt me, and shall I not defy?
Silence me, and I shall cry!
Restrict me, and I shall never end!

Teach me, and shall I be convincible?
Tether me, and shall I not fly?
Birth me, and I shall die!
Kill me, and I shall be invincible!

© Copyright 2002 by Daniel F Mitchell 
(Released to Public Domain 2004)

View as an Adobe pdf

Know we were once as you are now,
And would be still if we knew how.
Before these visions of life cease,
Pray thee, seek the river to peace.

Having overcome the immediate challenges to survival,
The man looked up at the taciturn face of the universe,
And whispered, "Why?"

"Damn fool!"
I cried,
"Don’t you ever ask why?
In you I must confide;
You’re as big a fool as I!"

Did you sell your soul for complete control?
Bargain honor for a masquerade role?
Did you give away your heroes for gold?
Exchange human warmth for plasticized cold?
Did you peddle your ideals for a joke?
Swap a cool breeze for hot sulfur and smoke?
Barter morning dew for moral decay?
Accept the rules and throw your dreams away?
Desert rolling green fields for parking lots?
Sell out country roads for burial plots?
Betray the mountains for high-rise demise?
Trade your blue ozone for gray lifeless skies?
Vend scarlet sunsets for sidewalk bloodstains?
Deal away pristine streams for sewer drains?
Have you made paradise wherein to dwell?
Do you think you can tell heaven from hell?

I have waded the swamps of a million seasons,
Thought in a thousand lives,
Discovered a hundred reasons
Why my existence so strives.

In what form shall I know
The one truth of my invention?
Mother, with what intention
Did you crawl from the salt sea so long ago?

I sometimes wonder as I wander earth
  Seeking clues to the mysteries of fate,
If I shall ever be privileged to know
  The purpose of creation’s awful birth.
All may be revealed in some future state,
  As far as past revealed secrets show.
Yesterday, or some million years before,
  I came to life in a primordial sea -
From then till now look what I’ve come to be!
  Where shall I stand in a million years more?

    I wonder if there is a master ghoul,
Somewhere beyond the mirrors and the smoke,
Hiding behind a maze of countless skies.

    I ponder at the motives of a fool,
Who, blinded by self-praise for a bad joke,
Must avoid the gaze of innocent eyes.

Take away all perceptions that make up your dear day.
Devise the guise of truth in your own special way.
Twine the strings of fate any way that it pleases.
Design any divine mime or rhyme that appeases.
Hold your breath.
But one day, you’ll have to meet death.

Weep.
Weep for me.
Weep for you and every living thing you see.

Weep.
And when you’re through,
Dry your eyes, and tell me what that’s going to do.

Sleep.
Sleep in fear.
Choose your dreams most carefully, and still you’re here.

Sleep.
But when you wake,
Bear in mind that time will find you for time’s sake.

All you are,
And all you see,
And all you ever hope to be,
Is but a transient wishing star.

A fading light, a fantasy, an echo in eternity,
Is all you are.

Confusion clouds my mind from time to time.
Fear fills my senses with expanding gloom.
But I see through the most meaningless mime,
And lock fear in a dark and soundproof room.

All of the answers I may never find.
But truth’s hue is progressively showing,
As reason cleans the smudges from my mind,
And supplements wondering and knowing.

If you and I could fly
Into the distant sky,
In search of twinkling light
Beyond the velvet lie,

Would we find truth on high,
Expand and never die?
Perhaps not, but we might!
Should we not at least try?

In the storm, where is security?
Before the temper of the tempest tossed,
The helmsman drowned, direction lost,
The course blown to obscurity,
Where does a soul turn for provision?
In the estuary of decision,
Blinded by despair, where, for evermore,
Might I find a better view?
Mind of reason, unfaltering oar,
I moor my heart in you.

You are blessed not to believe
Fortune in a cookie lies.
In the end, what you achieve
Is gained through persistent tries.
Ignore that which doom mumbles.
Your fate is to understand.
The way the cookie crumbles
Is determined by your hand.

I seek alone untarnished truth.
  Although difficult to find,
It resides in the heart of youth,
  And the meditative mind.

Superstition is a fool’s realm,
  Religion a foul pig sty.
And propaganda takes the helm
  With a narrow-sighted eye.

I decry humankind’s blind rules.
  All its dogmas I despise.
I will not sing the praise of fools.
  And I cannot live with lies.

Long-past thoughts have been given their due -
Stepping stones to reach that which is true.
In with the old and out with the new?
Scorn the day and revere a worn shoe?
Lessons of antiquity are learned.
The mystics are dead, the dogmas spurned.
History’s dim lamps have all been burned.
Now is that for which the ancients yearned.

Or is the conclusion
Continued delusion?

I value not the incessant drone -
The madness of pack mentality.

I have no fear of being alone,
To face my soul and mortality,
Cultivating the fields I have plowed
In my mind by my heart and my word.

Alone I fear being in a crowd,
And not knowing the whim of the herd.

Leaving one garden, I found another.
  And as I was planted, so I bore fruit!
There I praised the vineyard of my brother,
  Though he raised a crop I could not compute.
Are the ram’s lecherous tendencies sin?
  Shall all ears the magpie’s harsh note deride?
Can a wolf for his appetite be blamed?
  I sing the naked truth of all my kin!
It is time to cast our fig leaves aside,
  And walk forth proudly, feeling unashamed.

A psychologist, a psychic, and a psycho,
Met one day beneath an oak.
They considered the tree’s’ grandly twisted show.
Then to each other they spoke.

There seems to be the possibility,
Suggested by its nonconformity,
Of some inner desire to be free.

The concept has always been clear to me.

Once I fought in a cold war,
In trenches ten thousand miles wide.
I’m not sure I left a scar,
Or won a battle for my side.
But I was glad to drop my gun.
I’m not sure either side lost.
But not withstanding the cost,
I think everyone won.

When shall human nature at last perceive
  Peaceful coexistence nailed to a cross
Whose failed ideologies achieve
  Little more than retribution and loss!
That humankind might turn the tattered page
  That advocates intolerance and blame,
And fancies of self-emulating flight
  That discard life in suicidal rage,
As moths flutter headlong into the flame,
  Martyred to misconceived notions of right!

You’ve been told many times not to trust a stranger.
    Did you ever wonder why?
  Look at the time and tell me you’re not in danger -
      And still you deny.

But in your heart you find an empty space
    That all reassurances can’t relieve.
  Now look deep within my eyes,
      And tell me that you don’t believe.
  You must look past the lies
    Reflected from your fading face.

The sun is setting. And
    the
       stars
          are
             falling
         From the sky.
    The night is calling.
And you are going to die.

(A brief pause for regret)

Do I have your attention yet?

In your final moment of introspect,
  When you stare death straight in his sullen eyes,
Shall you look back on your life and reflect,
  Or be overwhelmed by your own demise?
Did you help make the world a better place?
  Can you lift up your banner at long length?
Or shall you lower your head in disgrace?
  Did you work with all your might, mind, and strength,
Or squander your spirit in idle waste?
  Did you complain about your unfair lot,
Or through your difficulties wisdom seek?
  Did you make decisions with undo haste?
Did you oppose the cruel, and defend the weak?
  Or taint your honor with ignoble thought?
Did you satiate your most sordid need,
  Or seek a creed of moral distinction?
Did you set service and love as your goal,
  Or endeavor for selfishness and greed?
Did you save a species from extinction?
  Ease the suffering of a single soul?
Did you struggle for truth and never cease,
  Or did you perpetuate fallacy?
Did you fight for justice, to right all wrong?
  Did you strive with all your being for peace,
Or was violence your only legacy?
  Did you succor heavy hearts with your song?
Was existence a virtue or a crime?
  In life, what did you do for human kind,
That might warrant a line of gentle verse?
  Assess your effort while you still have time.
In your passing what did you leave behind?
  Oh, what did you do for the universe?

In silence the destitute pray,
Disposing their time in an offhand way,
Longing to face that final hour,
While steadily wilts the bloom of the flower.

There was a soul that starved away,
And died once more of sorrow,
Having not lived a single day,
Before there was no morrow.

When I see children gathered to play ball,
In some yard hardly wide enough to play,
I think of the childhood yard where I played,
Games with other kids – baseball most of all.

When a lifetime was measured by a day,
We had but one thought to make us afraid -
The inhabitant beyond the great wall -
The croon behind the fence – The Baseball Witch!

We rarely had to bear her prune-like face,
Just her occasional rusty-gate voice,

Now, boys, I don’t want your toys in my yard!

We suspected we knew how she got rich -
The confiscated balls fallen from space!

We never forfeited a ball by choice.
Our fair foul balls we were forced to discard!
All stray balls became Hers, by some mandate
That we all lacked the courage to protest.

Even pleas to adult authorities
Found no one willing to question our fate,
No soul brave enough to accept a quest
To face the witch, only to hear her wheeze,

Now, I told you before about those balls,
If they come in my yard they become trash!

All but the foolish avoided the trip.
Parents’ bribery, threats, angry phone calls,
No grownup tactic, either wise or brash,
Could make her relinquish her evil grip.

Then one eventful summer afternoon,
When I hit, with horror, across the fence,
Our last coverless ball, (found in some field)
Fate took a course that changed history’s tune.
The loss obliged me to make recompense
To my friends for the witch’s total yield.

The witch was gone out – I could make a raid,
Across the fence, then quickly back again.
That it could be done was a proven fact.

I was too desperate to be afraid.
For our last ball I would face deathly pain.
Should I be caught in the heinous act,
I was instructed to eat our prize ball,
Swallow it so doctors would have a chance
To retrieve it, should my body be found.
(If anything remained after my fall)

So, I scaled the fence, and went at a prance,
Across the most unholy of all ground.
Our ball lay before her open garage,
Like a jewel guarded by some sleeping beast,
Who at the very least would give me pox.

I stooped down, but was stopped by a mirage,
A baseball-playing boy’s greatest eye feast -
Years of missing balls in a cardboard box!

I returned a boy of legend, a knight,
Celebrated with a box full of fame,
Conqueror of a witch’s petty hate!

We played ball again – victors versus spite!
Though, we often heard her dry-throated blame,

Well, you dirty little thieves, just you wait!

The mighty chief of Timberoo
Was proud as proud can be.
He strutted where the large crowds grew,
Where everyone might see.

His portrait hung in every house,
Attesting to his fame.
Every subject, from man to mouse,
Owed allegiance to his name.

All men looked to the chief for rule.
All women praised his grace.
Children swore his oath in school.
All people dreamed of his face.

He was the mighty chief of Timberoo,
As proud as proud can be,
Shepherd to all sheep, but a few,
Granting all but liberty.

And then one day, we’ve been told,
He fell from his high place.
Men who’d come by much more gold,
Sold him to disgrace.

Then the mighty chief of Timberoo
Was sad as sad can be.
Other chiefs, now, who are you?
Nothing at all, you see!

So sure was the leader at the head of the band,
Onward, intrepid soldiers! Here let’s make a stand!
To defend the purpose of gods and malfeasance of men!
Don’t breathe yet! I’ll tell you when.

But still the world turned.

"I am confused as to my place in the scheme,"
Cooed a dove from the gloom.

"The moon is coming soon," a frog crooned his theme,
In the midst of pending doom.

And a cricket fiddled while the stars burned.

The weary world came tumbling down,
As the devil ranted "die"!
He rent our Lady Liberty’s gown,
With a great dismaying cry.

In a vicious stoke of evil’s might,
He tried to strip her of her pride.
But her children rallied to her plight,
Gathering faithfully at her side.

Kindred of her noble creed,
Created to be ever free,
Knelt before her in her need,
To hear their mother’s solemn plea.

Who will calm her troubling fears?
Who will mend her hurt?
Who will wipe away her tears,
And wash away the dirt?

Who will lend a helping hand
To thwart the dogs at bay?
Who will take a certain stand?
Who will win the day?

Onward then to wage her war!
The souls of our fathers entreat!
Who will soothe her aching feet,
And bring her peace once more?

When the sparks of intifada transpire,
And ignite a wave of hateful desire,
The flames of rage grow higher and higher,
And reason is lost in a lake of fire.

Fueled to the core, in murder they partake.
Midst fumes of sulfur, tied fast to a stake,
In feverish anger, souls churn and bake,
And burn to ashes in a fire lake.

Who will tether the dogs of war,
What firm yet gentle hand?
Who at last will even the score!
What foe will take a stand!

Who will allay the hunger pangs!
What spurn the savage track!
Who will pull the ravenous fangs!
What heart dares brave the pack!

Who desires to sit quietly by,
In meadows where white rabbits play,
When the dogs of war all sleeping lie,
And the bones are buried faraway?

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Sweet little thing!
Apple of her mother’s eye!
Give that girl a golden ring!

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Didn’t get her way.
Listen to poor Sassy cry.
Send sweet Sassy out to play.

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Strode through the town,
Looking no one in the eye,
Parading in her finest gown.

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Scolds her mother for the rain.
Sassy wants to know just why,
Sometimes her wishes are in vain.

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Frowns at the worms on the walk,
Dismisses them with a sigh.
Sassy has no time to talk!

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Lives in castles in the air.
But someday Sassy Pie shall die,
And then the worms will have their share.

Boy in baggy pants soiled by street dust

I dance to escape all worry,
With an effort all mortals should laud.
With body and soul in a flurry,
I dance that the world will applaud.

Girl swaying slowly with a microphone

I sing my glory aloud,
Unsurpassed by any voice before.
I sing down to the crowd,
Intimate yet proud,
Whose attention I want, yet deplore.

Vagrant man wearing orange plastic women’s slippers

I am an invisible man,
Without a body or name.
The masses pass me by,
Sometimes wondering why -
And this is my claim to fame.

Woman who looks no one in the eyes

I walk to be seen,
Sensual and lean,
Dressed in my gaudy gown,
Impeccably clean,
Cunning and mean,
Queen of a haughty frown.

Man with a big wooden cross

For God I live!
His message I give,
In a fervor born of his love.
For my brothers I care!
I desire to share
His bounteous blessings above.

Grizzled old fellow with a broken-headed drum

My beat is unsteady, I know.
But I ignore the disdaining smile,
I play my tune for a while,
Before it is time to go

Boy of pink spiked hair and a jacket with demonic symbols

Get out of my way!
I’m in no mood to play,
Though my skateboard is tucked under my arm.
I feel angry inside.
But aside from my pride,
I’m not sure what has done me harm.

Man with dilated pupils rambling on the curbside

Oration is my opiate.
I speak of remedies to deal with fate.
With trembling hands, I gesticulate
Words my tongue cannot articulate.

          She loathes me!
          She loathes so hot!   

It must be the season.
Here she goes again -
Anger without reason.
Don’t ask her to explain.

When she gets snappy,
Let her win the fight!
Would you rather be happy?
Or would you rather be right?

When I dwelt in a haze of innocence,
For endless days, gazing with crystal eyes,
In a whimsical daze of ignorance
Beyond all inclination to surmise
Else but happy promises more intense
Than my crude tongue had syllables to size,
I formed my perception in a semblance
Of translucent windowpanes stained with lies.

But one night I dreamed at last I would die -
Slip soundly into sleep and never wake.

Bliss is not the basis of every dream.
In waking, I find I cannot deny
That all promises of glass someday break,
And not every poem has a happy theme.

Look no further, confounded friend,
  For your ticket to eternity.
There is no first-class chariot to the end -
  Admission is free.
Reality finds you wherever you go.
  Take freely your breath.
Soon mystic morons’ bickering shall be done.
  Accept what you don’t know as what you don’t know.
When you are wise with death,
  Then belief and truth shall become as one.

Measure the race-long vein, the sordid stain;
  All vain strivings heaped by humankind,
And reason shall find an absence of gain
  Beyond a bane of the rational mind.
Sores of misbegotten religious creeds,
  Power-mad fiends sure-damning all who live,
All amount to the sum of nothing more
  Than scores of forgotten foolhardy deeds.
What blessed bounty would progression give,
  Should someone learn the lessons gone before!

Where do you wander, errant knight,
In adamant hope of success?
What noble deed inspires your flight?
What fight does your effort address?

Is life really what you esteem?
Or is illusion what you know?
Have you added up all you dream?
Shall you truly reap what you sow?

Are you sure that you shall arise
At the end of your enterprise?
The moment before you die,
Cast your gaze up to the sky,

When stained glass images of light
In your mind are all that remain,
And the cold fragments of your plight
Settle down around you like rain.

My resolve falters, and my longings cease
  Pursuing the end to which artists make
Token lip service passages of peace.
  Tired of creation for creation’s sake,
Knowing that in the hollow of my hands
  I hold no more than mere words to hide in,
Ever blinded by false security -
  As ants set order to temporal sands,
Only to suffer effort blown to sin,
  When chaos sweeps will to obscurity.

    We are only shadows and sand,
Blending into deepening shades of dusk.
    We are fire in mystery’s hand,
Fragrance of bloom lost to decay’s stale musk.

    We are vague promises broken,
Form and motion that time will soon rescind.
    We are secrets vainly spoken,
Rumors on the dusty tongue of the wind.

When the elements conspired against me,
Rattling at the door,
Trying the tightest window seams,
Testing the roof and the ceiling beams,
And in a thunderous acrimony,
Assailed the garden floor,
There dispatching the sweet peas offhand
To a cruel and senseless death,
Taunting in roaring reprimand,
Howled they with heaving breath,

Behold our might!
Rage fills our goblet to the brim!
We stab our fiery pikes at the mountain height!
We sway the oaks at whim!

__________

I stood before the belligerent night,
And lifted my eyes on high.
And I raged back,
In counterattack,

I shall soon subside,
As you.
But I will storm while I am able!

Destroy my flesh, but invincible is my soul!
Thwart my ambitions, but inalienable is my goal!

Squeeze the song from my throat.
Tear the words from my tongue.
Yet from mouths of innocence, note,
Unadulterated notes are sung.

Make falsehood the law of state.
Give perjury the only debate.

Still, babes, with innate cries,
Shall claim their divine right
To declare fact the greatest might,
Looking ever to sky and stars with longing eyes,

Till veracity, in tireless attrition,
Rallies his victory to fruition

Against infidels to freedom and youth,
And with a silver ax severs all diseased heads.
Then old liars, palsied on their death beds,
Shall succumb with their sins in consequence of truth.

In a damp room,
With molded paper,
On walls of foreign confines,
We drew pictures of bright futures,
There in the gloom.

With an innocent taper,
We illuminated what truth defines,
And sealed it to our souls with golden sutures.

I said, "All roads lead to nowhere!
What’s a traveler to do?"

You said, "That’s no reason to despair.
Any avenue, any skew!
Let’s choose random paths leading anywhere,
Maybe blaze new trails, and see if we get through."

When our innocence yearned,
And our passion burned,
We vowed to walk on air,
To our courses stay true,
Of life take a share,
And at least enjoy the view.

In a faraway room,
Behind a gray curtain,
We dreamed and conspired,
Surrounded by doom.

Though uncertainty alone was certain,
To lofty ways we aspired.

Sorry are the fools,
Who find out too late,
We can’t change the rules,
But we make our own fate.

Seekers of reward
Trade their hours for jewels.
Greed is soon buried beneath a hoard
Of other rich fools.

Courters of renown
At last find that fame
Is little more than a paper crown
On a pauper’s name.

Crumbling castles of sand
Are the wages of power.
Walls of pride briefly stand,
But falls the highest tower.

Nothing in life is sure.
But he who follows wisdom
Does his glory secure,
Should there follow a kingdom.

Why squabble for gravel in the field?
Why fight in the dust, silly sparrows,
When you might seek a more lofty yield,
Soaring heaven’s vast height like arrows!

I.

Though the armies of folly array,
Their dogmas in dogged display,
All foolishness at last shall fail,
And wisdom over all prevail.

II.

Fear and lies are my enemy.
Truth alone can set me free.

III.

Truth is the heart of the soul,
That no mortal law can control.

IV.

Be resolute in your quest for learning.
Be cautious of the direction of your yearning.

V.

Hear all arguments and weigh them through,
In case you might find something new.

VI.

How shall I gain exaltation?
Man rises on the shoulders of man.
Therefore I must do what I can
To bring my brothers’ emancipation.

And in the night when the wind calls,
What tune shall it blow?
What turn shall it take?
Which direction go?

And in the night when the rain falls,
What flower shall grow?
What seed might wake?
What hand may sow?

And in the night when the dark comes,
What beacon shall glow?
What light divine?
What wisdom show?

And in the end when the cold numbs,
What river shall flow?
What sun shall shine?
Does anyone know?

Lift your eyes, O humanity!
Above your pride and vanity!
You are but a transient endeavor,
Tossed in the timeless tides of forever!

For what is it that my soul pines
In this darkness to understand!
What mystical riddle defines
These lines in the palm of my hand?
What sublime alchemy divines
The meaning of rumors and sand?

Who vexes me with restless sleep?
From which awareness cannot wake!
Is my only question too deep?
Or the answer too hard to take?
In veracity, would I weep?
Or would my heart with rapture break?

What loss passes before my eyes!
And all the gods but misspent trust!
O what is there in truth but lies!
What am I but shadows and dust!

Microbe in a drop of water in my eye,
Do you see me as well as I see you?
Can you look through the blue iris that is your sky,
And perceive as well as I what is false or true?

Perhaps you are too small to see.
You would understand, too,
If you were great like me,
And I were minuscule as you.

What is this you whisper of relativity,
Of understanding the concept of place,
Our relationship with infinity,
The universal principle of endless space,

And how one world fits inside another,
All linked in all, and all in transition!
I suppose, in a way, you are my brother.
I believe I’m beginning to see your position.

The sky is gray with sorrow,
As a wise but somber face,
Reflecting on the morrow,
Looking down from clouded space.

The misty tears are flowing,
As an old man mourning youth,
With gusty grievance blowing,
Knowing well the whole blue truth.

The candle burned bright on the windowsill,
Flame flickering shapes from some mystical spark,
Till the drapes parted in sudden surprise.

Observe how lights embark
In smoking lies.

Who will know the room is dark,
When the night is still?

Overhead the setting sun hangs motionless upon the sky,
Thinking of the scenes it shined on yesterday;
Time that passed away in wisps like smoke before a blinking eye,
The who and why just left along the way.

I stand before the rising tide, and cast my gaze to open sea,
Beyond the waves that stretch before my finite reach of hand.
Here I dream of what has been, and what in coming days shall be;
That passes between my fingertips like grains of shapeless sand.

High above, the fleeting clouds, in shapes I can’t identify,
Float listlessly across the painted eve.
Swooping low a seagull cries an ancient dreamer’s lullaby,
Whose notes forgotten memories aggrieve.

Soft against the rising night, the lingering thoughts of daylight bring,
From distant shores, and yet so very near,
Echoes of past voices that in melodies of chaos sing,
As wind might whisper unto a listening ear.

I observe with sorrow the day setting,
In that endless instant when time stands still,
Yesterday forgetting, morning fretting,
Surrendering hope to a greater will.

Bowing my head with the dimming sunset,
Laden to breaking beneath mortal weight,
I am moved to a deep state of regret
That no articulation might relate.

I would find some consolation knowing
The meaning, if any, of my brief life -
Perhaps resolve my doubt before going;
The purpose of pain, suffering, and strife.

Am I only a spark of random chance,
Kindled for a moment of mystery;
The light of a miraculous trance,
Shining through the darkness of history?

My spirit has become stark and forlorn,
Parched and barren, in vast dunes of despair,
To think that tender flowers might be born
Only to wither in the desert air.

Do the fires of stars a deity define?
Or shall the light at last sputter and die?
Shall the most flawless of all gems shine
Admired not by some great adoring eye?

Shall the order of all things be esteemed
The object of confusion’s random stand?
Or meaningless chaos filled and redeemed
By some creator’s omnipotent hand?

Overseer of all heavenly order,
Does your lot forbid compassion and love
For the lowly souls within your border,
Who prayerfully seek guidance from above?

Surely the law with blood lust is sodden,
That grants the merciless a divine leave
To vanquish the weak and the downtrodden -
Survival of the fittest to achieve.

Pray thee, look me straight in my bleeding heart,
And tell me I amount to more than mud,
Your designs some higher justice impart,
That you are guiltless of innocent blood!

Someday in enlightened joy arriving,
With a concurring judgment, let me say
Life was comprised of more than vain striving
And the futile suffering for a day.

Let the omnipotent powers that be,
Not falter in their effort to be fair!
Let the supreme will that created me,
Either gods or chance, harken to my prayer!

And chaos and creators refusing
The edict of their silence to rescind,
I shall account this meaningless musing
As supplication to the soulless wind.

Now slumbers away the peerless flower.
Wilts to obscurity the crimson rose.

Sleeps the sentient heart in calm’s bower.
Silent all troubles in tranquil repose.

Now bows low the golden grass in season.
And droops the head without certain reason.

Mortal consequences all dreams impeach.
Vain spoken are the vows that lovers make

Full are the spirits who life’s riddles know.
Free is the soul without chain or master.

Now glides a star beyond night’s finite reach,
Leaving a token of light in the wake.

Still the sad tears! Well I know why they flow
Upon epitaphs of alabaster.

Death smiles on everyone,
With a broad, nefarious grin.
He rattles the doorknob just for fun,
As he grimly saunters in.

All one can do is hand him a cup,
And fill it to the brim,
Then take a bow, and step right up,
And grin right back at him.

© Copyright 2002 by Daniel F Mitchell 
(Released to Public Domain 2004)

View as an Adobe pdf

A splendid woman in a dream appeared,
In flowing robes of alabaster dressed,
Trembling, as nigh unto a swoon, she neared,
Her hands in prayerful supplication pressed.
With a voice of clear resonance she blessed,
With one love, on her lustrous lips, all things.
Pressing onward, by darkness not oppressed,
She praised the light that hope to despair brings,
Floating gracefully as a wish on angel wings.

Radiant was her face at breaking dawn,
As the glittering of a thousand jewels!
And eyes of turquoise and emerald pools,
That changed hue with the sky they gazed upon!
And black velvet hair lush around her wreathed!
Her brow was crowned with a halo of gold!
Her shapely waist in jasper and jade sheathed!
Her fair countenance by mere words untold!
She was goddess to a paradisiacal fold!

Full on her cheeks shone the adoring sun,
Who bowed low, though a proud and pompous king,
As full she curtsied in her subtle pun -
Free from all the darts a fire god could fling.
She pursed her sweet jasmine-scented lips,
Soft-set beneath a lavender-lace veil,
Whispering well to newly-arrived ships,
Raising with her breath a gossamer sail,
To receive all wayward wanderers without fail.

She spread forth a table of spearmint leaves,
Covered with a cloth of rosemary sprigs,
And set out pillows of barley straw sheaves,
And brought platters of honey-centered figs,
And clusters of grapes glistening with dew,
And tangerines with aromatic rinds,
And myriad dishes aligned in queue.
How with a language germane to all minds,
She opened her door to refreshment of all kinds!

Then she danced, O how with exceeding feat!
She danced to the tune of the sailor’s lute,
To the twinkling stars’ illustrious beat,
To the meteor’s irascible flute!
And heaven about her, though deaf and mute,
Changed colors to the blend of her heart’s choice!
And the sun felt his jealous love complete!
And the sea and the sky sang with one voice,
Until all lonely hearts were lifted to rejoice.

Once a fearful-eyed child sat on her knee,
Concerned with heavy thoughts of coming night,
But was soon comforted to some degree,
By her full intervention in his plight.
She spoke of concepts throughout history,
On which a lost soul could somewhat depend.
She said she was not sure of wrong or right.
But she vowed to remain a faithful friend,
And hold him against her bosom until the end

The traveler knelt before her gentle feet,
And rested his sleepy head in her lap.
Confident that his journey was complete,
He prepared his soul for a restful nap,
While she hummed a comforting lullaby,
Of tides and undercurrents and destiny.
And the sad soul accepted with a sigh,
How a sailor is truly blessed to be
Safe at home, on an Island in the sea.

From your point of view, in your clearest mind,
On the highest point of Earth’s lowly land,
Is there anything that keeps you from space?
In your estimate, in the thoughts you find,
From the exact time and place where you stand,
Tell me, does the wind blow fresh on your face?

You can never go back.
You can only ask why.

I tried to find the track
That once led to your door;
A time and place I knew before.
But you were not home.

Those days are through.
This day is done.

How lonely it is to be alone!
What words might I use to atone?

Through my scattering thoughts I roam.

I watch the sleepy sun
Taking the light from the sky,
Closing my eyes with the final beam,
To all that I ever knew.

I wonder if it was all a dream.

Darkness traces the lines of my forehead,
With shadows draped before these fading eyes
As sins that no absolution might shed,
Nor penance while in this mortal disguise.
I plead guilty to the crime of being,
To the city beyond my windowpane,
With a blank gaze silently decreeing
The candlelight of all souls lit in vain,
Seeking resolution through amity
Beyond the glass reflection of my face,
(If only my loneliness to postpone)
Watching the beacons of humanity -
Like dying embers in a common space,
Burning together, yet fading alone.

Outside the transient wind throats
A sad and ghostly moan.
And I listen, understanding the notes,
Alone.

I recall days of merry revelry,
When butterflies danced and sun shone,
When I did not know what it meant to be
Alone.

I envision friendly faces,
When joy was reaped and camaraderie sown,
When I dwelt in places, where only time his line traces,
Alone.

Now I witness the wages of a wanton waste of song,
Given over to eternity’s heartless drone.
I wish that I could right my every wrong,
Alone.

I wish the night would speak to me,
Appear to me in flesh and bone,
So that I would not have to be
Alone.

Hey, you,
Out beyond the lies,
With no burns upon your eyes,
Can you lead me?

Hey, you,
Out beyond the fright,
Wielding all that might,
Will you hold me?

In a fit of delight,
Through clover black as sable,
Silver horses race down moonbeams,
Roaming endless fields afar.

Satin rabbits prance like fireflies.
Ashen ladies dressed in silk,
Strew bright flowers at our table,
As we dance across the night.

We will lie on a star.
We will drink cosmic milk.
We will fly on our dreams,
Riding fire across the skies.

In the end, I must depend
On my maker as my friend,
Or die of thirst in a foreign land,
As I quench my want with burning sand,
Making wishes to mirages on the way,
Musing away, day after day.

In thy columned cathedral does there dwell
Some pious priest of yore or mystic lore
Who might with merciful design impart
Life’s meaning or of eternity tell?
Ignore no more poets who walk thy shore,
Whose lips sing mention of thy empty heart,
And breathe human passion through thy silent hall -
Should no soul remain to hear thy trees fall.

When brightening
Rays of Jupiter’s eye
In dawning doom swell
Upon the nocturnal tide,

When frightening
Thunder claps on high,
As a vast awesome bell,
Mere mortals to deride,

When tightening
Terror is spawning nigh,
As taunting demons yell
From the other side,

Then heightening
Despair for my welfare I shall cry,
Pawning to fate wherein I dwell,
And in resignation to faith hide.

Were I to meditate a thousand years,
Searching for answers and questions in vain,
Would truth mitigate all my mortal fears,
And my tired mind find some lasting gain -
Knowing the purpose of life and demise?
And comprehending all of why and how,
Sure, with my cup of wisdom brimming full,
Nothing to surmise,
Would I understand much better than now
The potential of an undying soul?

Wink, all-knowing stars, from your high places.
Sing the sweet melodies of paradise.
Unveil the mysteries in your faces.
Sprinkle a twinkling glimmer of advice.
Fervently I would lean my yearning ear
To know what guarded secrets lie in store.
For a glimmer of celestial insight
I await to hear.
With uplifted gaze I humbly implore!
Enlighten me, O omniscient night!

When someday through Elysium I ride,
High upon a steed ethereal bred,
Shall I sheathe the very world at my side,
And wear a crown of sun upon my head?
Shall I bask in honor, glory, and grace,
Finding reality more than I dream,
Finding at last that for which all souls yearn?
To my proper place!
Lead on, usher of the eternal plan!
I am obliged to follow in my turn.

Who would feast beneath your bedside table,
As I, in awe of fairness so replete?
Who savor your taste, were I not able -
Ambrosia spread, but no one to eat!

Who would sing to you of your twinkling eyes?
Without me, where would you be, whore divine?
Were it not for me believing your lies,
No one would love you, sweet harlot of mine!

My heartbeat in darkness beats,
Divulging life in me still.
A metronome of hope entreats
My prayer for a higher will.

Let tranquility be my sole refrain -
An eternal sigh that may never wane!
Only joy in existence would remain,
Were I an angel on the highest plain.

Do you hear the gravestones quaking?
Do you see the glowing light?
Do you feel the ground beneath you shaking?
Behold the glorious sight!

A moment grows nearer,
That no mortal may surmise!
What concept could be dearer
Than the end of all demise?

Tonight is the night for waking,
When existence lies in a trance,
When the dead of life are partaking,
And ghosts come out to dance.

In the culminating hour,
When darkness and light share an opinion,
When time loses all dominion,
And death is stripped of power,

When I see beyond eternity,
With eyes of immortal fire,
With the voice of a celestial choir
I shall sing across infinity.

I shall sprout untethered pinions,
Wings of endless space.
With perpetuation as my face,
And seasons as my minions,

Across the sea in countless ships,

I shall sail away from sorrow and pain.
I shall count an immeasurable gain,
With timeless tomorrow at my fingertips,

Embracing fate as my sister,
When love and lovers have become one.
And though I kiss the eclipse of the sun,
My lips shall not blister.

Their books appear in watery guise,
With wisdom of the ancient wise,
And all the many hopes that used to be.

Their echoes from the deep arise,
Words voiced before their thoughts’ demise,
And graved upon the memory of the sea.

Twilight tongues of coral caves
Flow forth from never-silent graves,
Lost in the sound of skyward-rushing waves.

Turn your eyes from what is past.
These tales of time but moments last.
The truth, beneath lost fable, buried lies.

The tide ahead flows not behind.
The oceans of a sage you’ll find
Reflected in the farthest-reaching skies.

Within the mists of faith swift fly.
To the heart of Sirius hie.
And think not that your efforts are in vain.

Waste not a single tear to cry,
That Isis save you by and by.
Nor pray that Atlantis may rise again.

A vision of rest came to his mind’s eye,
A garden where a mystical tree grew,
Beneath the lapis lazuli dapple
Of a lofty ceiling of autumn sky,
Where the guardian Hesperides three,
Singing the fall of a serpent he slew,
Hand in hand ringing him, danced gleefully.
And Heracles resigned to ecstasy,
And there partook of a golden apple.

In the mud of a primordial field,
Within a shielding fog of ignorance,
We cultivated a marvelous yield,
There, formed more faces of our countenance,

To gaze with a myriad host of eyes
Upon our conquest of the endless sea,
Beneath an ether of numberless skies -
To be as one, yet as many things be.

This is the wisest life we’ve ever known!
What reason misses, omnipresence finds.
Omniscience with spreading roots is grown
In the dreams of many separate minds.

Upon her skin of pearl white,
Upon her countenance of sheer delight,
Upon her serene station,
In a transcendental revelation.

I found sublime enlightenment
In the cool embrace of the moon.
I partook of her sacrament
In the steam of a torrid swoon.

In a beam of silver elegance,
The worldly mask lifted from my eyes,
And in the spell of a moonlit trance,
I beheld soul beneath her disguise.

For a while, in darkness we are forlorn.

But soon the beacons are kindled once
more!

Shall we measure the distance from this
trance?

Whether shooting stars or firefly romance?

Nay! Let us distinguish neither disguise!
Tonight we will dance with stars and fireflies!
Light my fire, most divine fire of my light!
In a night cornfield, dance with me tonight!

I long to be
Lifted above,
Beyond my tears,
Beyond my fears,

Beyond all mortal care,
Rising into the air
On burning desire,
Where our dreams inspire.

I look to fields afar.
Will you fly there with me,
To any random star,
Where anything can be?

Not yielding to the loss of youth,
We may know one more unfound pleasure,
Beyond the veil of lies and truth -
Perhaps joy beyond measure.

While errant sunbeams wander,
As daylight falls off to sleep,
The stars arrive to ponder
Thy fields of infinite deep.

I come to thee for space.
In thee I seek my inner light.
In thee I found my place.
Thou art my love, O peace of night.

© Copyright 2002 by Daniel F Mitchell 
(Released to Public Domain 2004)

View as an Adobe pdf

I know that today
Is more certain than tomorrow.
And who can truly say
That happiness outlives sorrow?

Don’t wait for the bell
That rings for the regretful dunce.
Live every moment well.
Breath is dear, and life is but once.  

I will feast on any table.
I will grow what can be grown.
I will bud as I am able.
I will bloom where I am sown.

But my wild eyes refuse to see.
My mind resides on passing clouds.
I long to run from misery,
Far from the maddening crowds!

With the horizon I shall be,
On the trail of the fleeting day,
For the wanderlust is in me,
And nothing can make me stay!

O for a palette of colors so fair!
O for a touch of artful mastery!
For a steady hand and the heart to dare
Frame joy with such dazzling symmetry!

Flowers, in your many forms, I adore
The sweet essence that fills you to the core,
And blooms from eternity’s barren soil!
Though your petals wither and your leaves spoil,
Though blossomed to a short season of shades,
There is much of life your spirit may tell!

O for the wisdom to understand well
Of painting boldly though the canvas fades!

Gaze unashamed upon my countenance.
  Relinquish your ear to my silver tongue.
Repose in affection’s exquisite trance;
  This courtship on lips and fingertips sung.
Cast your raiment aside at my kiss.
  Bare your bosom to my gentle design.
Touch me and let desire set you free.
  In a sanctuary of sensual bliss,
Together we will drink of rapture’s wine
  Until we are giddy with revelry!

See how I shine in her cinnamon eyes,
Dancing till dark beneath cinnamon skies,
    Beneath a cinnamon tree.

I am in a trace with a cinnamon girl,
Lost in romance, in a cinnamon whirl,
    Beneath a cinnamon tree.

I am swimming in a cinnamon sea,
Deep in spicy waters where passions flow free,
    Beneath a cinnamon tree.

I am in flight through a cinnamon night,
Floating on clouds of cinnamon delight,
    Beneath a cinnamon tree.

One enchanted moment,
One transcendental night,
My mind with bliss did foment,
My heart on wings took flight.

A rainbow in the dark
Bore me to a rapturous height,
And in me lit a spark
That outshined an infinity of night.

Foxes must be clever
Because they are not strong.
A canary must ever endeavor
To sing love’s sweetest song.

The flower pays a nectarous fee
For the mercenary sting of bees.
The way she smiled up at me
Made me feel weak in the knees.

You make me feel so spry!
You make me sigh!
You make me want to cry
And try to fly up to the sky!

You make me dance!
You put me in a trance!
I feel that there’s a chance
I’ll prance above all creation!

Elation!
Inebriation!
Inspiration!

I want to shout!
There really is no doubt
You’re what it’s all about,
This high, this raving sensation!

Celebration!
Elevation!
Exhilaration!
Exaltation!

Elation!

I am blessed to be
Rendered above
All matters by your love.

Give me your hand,
And I’ll take you away
To a marvelous land,
Where I’ll sing you a song,
So you’ll never despair.
I will take you along
As I waltz in midair.

With the clouds we will float, one by one.
And we’ll fall with the rain,
Till we put out the sun.
The chance may never come again!

Come, let’s take a look all around us!
Come, let’s see all creation astound us!
We’ll say while we may that the world was thus!
We’ll play while we may, while the world is thus!

And won’t you take this heart that I give you?
And won’t you make a part of this dream true?

Give me the time, and I’ll give you the world!
I will sing you a rhyme till this mime has unfurled!
Give me a chance, and I’ll win you the moon!
Come now, let’s dance, till the galaxies swoon!

And look, my dear, the stars are so lovely,
Like daffodils of fire above me!
And won’t you walk the garden beside me?
And won’t you walk the garden beside me?

I fancy lost love from the brook calling,
And picture a sparkling girl I once knew -
A scene from some past remembrance or dream.
How the sun in her radiant smile flashed,
When lost in whimsical frolic we splashed
In cascading waters long passed to sea!

Beneath the weight of memory, I recline,
Against the trunk of a consoling pine,
Worn as rock beneath a cascading stream,
Reminiscence pouring down upon me.

And a songbird from his distant perch calls,
Echoing the song that my sad heart grieves,
Making an account of the passing years,
Reminding me that winter shall come soon,
And I shall be gone before it is through -
Gone to some faraway, forlorn, somewhere!

So here I sit, watching water falling,
Drying my eyes of water, mist, and tears,
While cicadas chant deep meditation,
Humming me to peace for an afternoon.

In buttercups up to my knees,
I stopped to watch the honey bees,
Drinking deeply of sweet delight,
As I drank in the honied breeze.

Standing on a heavenly height,
I witnessed an immortal sight.
I walked in the midst of fire.
I felt a great gardener’s might.

In faith I will live and expire,
With blooms such as these to inspire.
And I will blossom with desire,
To grow ever higher and higher.

Behold the fair faces of faith!
Look on creation, and adore!
Marigolds with their golden smiles,
Mimic the sun’s shining glory.
Tulips vie with the waking day.
Trumpet vines herald their truth,
Blaring in a skyward vector
The summer daylight’s breaking news.
The aster mimes the evening star.
The rhododendron rears her head
As some whimsical shadow wraith.
Jasmine shines where moonbeams are,
Scenting the midnight with her name.
Everlasting peas presume youth,
With faces frosted and hoary.
Bee balm sets out alms for the bees,
Hears butterflies pray on bent knees.
Poppies make a calming nectar,
To convalesce the deepest hurts,
And bring jubilation instead.
Morning glory climb from the floor,
With determination that wins
Even the most difficult test.
Daffodils wear formal fashion,
Even as winter tears their skirts.
The wallflower burgeons her best
With the most humble of garbs,
Setting aside every regret.
Lavender puts on her best dress,
And dances her worries away.
Snapdragons flash their happy grins,
As about the fence they slither,
Unrestrained by time’s heartless vow
To render them toothless and lame.
Roses are blossoms of passion,
Radiating love’s many hues,
Though tormented by wicked barbs
Their hearts prevail over all trials.

All flowers at long last wither,
But while they may, they effloresce.
Set your nightshade aside for now.
A blush remains in your cheeks yet.

Today, with all thy heart,
Love the bloom that wilts tomorrow.
Though from love thou must part,
Waste thou not a tear on sorrow.

At the sudden onset of night,
In the deepening shade,
Love thou dearly that precious light,
Before thy day doth fade.

Sing, tangerine evening breeze,
Verse of reflection composed,
Of long-bygone memories,
Whose tune only evening knows.

Croon of glowing sunsets of yesteryear,
Of lost words whispered in the ear of night;
Secret oaths once sworn in earnest desire
By poets enthralled to transient cheer,
Empowered to sing by some godly might
That fills the heavens with ensouling fire.

O radiant tether!
O undying endeavor!
Our souls whisper together
Of song now one with never.

Who wants to live forever?
Who wants to live forever?

Most divine eye of night,
  Keeper of secrets old,
Here beneath thy keen sight,
  What tales must have been told!
Thou scorner of the morn,
  At high nocturnal noon,
Here witness on the vine
  All creatures ever born
To rise and swiftly swoon!
  Bestow thy silver wine!

Fair light, immerse me now,
  My house of flesh and bone!
Consecrate my pale brow!
  Hear my low-throated drone!
For all songs e’er begat
  Beneath thy history,
Pine on, O endless tune!
  For all the ages that
Looked on thy mystery,
  Shine on, O harvest moon!

  A picture unfolds before my mind’s eye,
Where entwines the courses of Main and Rhine,
  Beneath a sun setting low in the sky,
When you and I witnessed the flow and shine
  Of moments that in innocence confide.

  Now I see the radiant face of joy!
I hear the current lapping at our feet;
  As the voice of some ancient siren’s ploy,
Whose echoes to restless spirits entreat,
  Beseeching love beneath her skirts safe hide.

  Now glide the alabaster swans on glass,
On the face of a golden mirror cast,
  Like concentric ripples that subtly pass
Into deepening eve – not meant to last,
  As lost memories that in dreams abide.

  Now we stand on the hazy banks of time,
Embarking from our port of flesh and bone,
  As the elements of some divine rhyme,
Rigged to sail on fleeting visions alone,
  Across endless stretches of cosmic tide.

  Ah, but where is the book wherein to write
Words formed from the shards of fast-fading light!
  Where is the meaning of bygone delight,
Lost on lips that sing between day and night
  Of ghost ships that never again may ride.

Mortality has shown me a world of pain -
  Dark hours wherein my touch could find no friend,
When I thought I would never see you again,
  Yearning for a swift and merciful end.
I have wallowed in deep mires of sorrow,
  Swallowed gall until it lost all taste,
But now on the foundation of you I stand.
  Though time plunders tomorrow,
And suffering is thrown to waste,
  I am steadied by the strength of your hand.

She loved me for a while,
Though that fire is now an ember,
And the memory faraway.
On some mist-veiled isle,
The thrill I still remember
Of one long-ago day.

Let the light fall from the sky!
Let night dim my fading smile!
The world shall not deny
That she loved me for a while.

Love, ask a gift of me amongst all things,
An unblemished flower in fullest bloom,
The joy a morning moment in May brings,
A sunbeam to brighten the deepest gloom!
Would you have the stars like diamonds strung -
Around your neck all of celestial grace,
Or night like velvet on your shoulders hung
To adorn the radiance of your face?
What gift can I with mortal power impart,
That in your nights of woe you may recall
And feel my sincerity cheer your heart?
I give you nothing, and I give you all.
What gift might suffice to bring you redress?
A word of love is all that I possess!

Say that my poem was about you.
  Lying one wakeful night, wresting
With vision of an endless view,
  The limits of magic testing,
I saw a part of what is true;

As to the weight of time and space.
  By the flame-flicker of watch fires’
Distant twinkling, I found a trace
  Of the subtle power that inspires
Me when I imagine your face -

Peerless of beauty, as the light
  Of stars a million years burning.
Seduced by the raven-haired night,
  Intoxicated with yearning,
I fancied my spirit in flight.

Then as waves on solid land break,
  I roared forth my eternal word -
Your sublime name alone I spake,
  Like an emancipated bird,
Still in love with rhyme for rhyme’s sake.

Genki girl, I miss your kiss,
In moments like this,
When I am alone in the night.

I fix your image in my mind,
Lying on my side to watch the moon,
Silver in his fantastic flight.

The sole consolation I find,
Is telling myself that soon
You will be

Next to me.

Stand back!
See how she jumps!
My heart pumps
From a love attack!

Forever know that love is free.
Try to cage it, and you will see.
Try to stop it, and you will find
The heart is stronger than the mind.

What a wicked thing to do,
To make me fall for you!
What an evil thing to say,
To make me feel this way!
What a monstrous thing to be,
To have this ache inside of me!

Little devil, tell me love is a liar!
Extinguish this fire before it gets higher!

The moon is on fire and stars are shimmering blue.
Hot burns my desire to pass this moment with you!
I had a dream you were sharing this dream with me.
I had a dream but my dream was not meant to be.

I never wanted to fall in love with you.
This love is only going to break my heart.
I fell in love; now what am I going to do?
This love is only going to tear me apart.

Such a silly way to feel,
When really nothing real is real!
Such a silly cause to pain!
Why fall in love if love’s in vain?

The moon is on fire and stars are shimmering blue.
I’m dying of want and no one can save me but you.
I will abide another night with no one near.
My heart is beating but there’s no one here to hear.

Dream of peace, although it may elude you,
Vain though it seems in your darkest hour!
Believe that harmony may soon ensue,
That by planting a seed it might flower.
Vanquished be the wicked will of sorrow
Leaving streaks of weeping upon your face.
Sleep soundly, in the hope of tomorrow,
In the serenity of earnest grace.
Discredit not the power of desire
That turns love to hate, and makes brothers clash,
Or easily extinguishes the fire
Which otherwise burns all purpose to ash.
  A vision might all of our sins redeem.
  Reality is wrought by what we dream.

When my love says she loves me more than breath,
I am inclined to believe her sweet song.
She vows to remain faithful until death,
Whispering that love can never be wrong.

But her deceit is translucently clear.
She lies to me, well knowing that I know.
She falsifies the words I wish to hear.
And her shrewd guile makes my love for her grow.

With each tender deceit, I love her more.
My heart is bent willingly to her will.
Her wholehearted fraudulence I adore.
My love is a liar, but I love her still.

  Her lies are more of love than she can see.
  My love loves me enough to lie to me.

I sought a very exceptional rose;
  A flower supreme in every way -
Bloom that not age, nor blight, nor aphid knows,
  Whose complexion is as clear as the day,
From whose countenance magnificence flows,
  As the Sun presides over lowly Earth,
From which celestial radiance glows,
  Surpassing any common flower’s birth.

I sought among roses a perfect rose,
  Among peerless leaves, among tender buds,
Among thornless stems arrayed in flawless rows,
  From which the essence of pristine dawn floods
And ambrosial fragrance constantly blows,
  Whose dew-kissed petals delicately sway
To the hymns hummingbird’s gay wings compose,
  To flutter of butterflies come to play.

I wanted to believe that desire sows
  Blossoms as pure as a pure heart conceives.
But blooms wilt, and waking dreams at last doze,
  And defect alone excellence achieves.
And I see that only from afar grows
  The flower by blemish unpolluted.
Perfection in a distant rose best shows,
  Whose wine’s bouquet is best drunk diluted.

Tedious is the idiom spoken by attrition,
Relentless in defamation of all that is pure,
Foe to all ardor, for no apparent reason
Than joy in thwarting from complete fruition
The blossom of infatuation’s lure -
Harvesting sorrow in full season.

Passion purloined by years, lust burnt to dust,
Zeal must turn inward for the questions that confound,
While forgiveness perseveres and hope softly sings.
And though time turns the most endearing charms to rust,
Stoic loyalty stands his eroding ground,
Forcing love to earn her wings.

To you who stood beside me while time raged:
I will stand by you, though broken and aged.

Save the last light for me -
That wane spark in your eyes
Before you are set free,
While in your worldly guise.

At the close of your day,
At this hour grown so late,
Before you slip away
To your eternal fate,

Let me sing a final dream.
Before you set out on your own,
Upon a heavenward sunbeam,
Before you leave me all alone,

Let me send you reluctantly
Off unto your celestial role -
A last kiss for eternity,
To ease your fear and soothe your soul.

If I lied deep in lavender,
  And you reclined in bay,
If we were resigned to splendor,
  To while all time away,
I wonder if I’d still know you,
  If you’d remember me,
And if we could grasp through and through
  Just what we’d come to be.

If I abode in leaves of gold,
  And you blew in the breeze,
Do you think when the days grew cold
  We might meet in the trees,
And whisper of days that are past?
  Shall we then comprehend
Why temporal things cannot last?
  Do severed bonds ever mend?

I wonder if there is some land
  Where in love we may stay.
Straightaway we’d go hand in hand,
  But I don’t know the way.
Lead on, whether or not you know!
  We’ll never say good-bye!
It matters not which way we go.
  Together we will fly!

Garden I wander, garden of wonder,
Garden around, within, above, under!
Garden, in thy yard I remember when
I found myself a new-born denizen,
Gazing profoundly in dumbfounded awe.
O the marvelous miracles I saw!
Shapes of mystery, of fear, of delight!
O overwhelming color of my sight!
Joy so sweet my spirit was ether-filled!
By sound instilled, by scent high, by touch thrilled,
I wandered the path in earnest yearning,
The fair faces of creation learning.
Lo! Morning-sunlit sward so green and free,
That bound with faith my innocence to me!

The stuff of pleasant dreams is made of such.
Should that the bee had never stung my touch!

Light would be my heart, bright would be my eyes,
Could time forget his tiresome lullabies,
Were I gifted to see beyond my tears,
And blessed to live a life of countless years.
But I am bound to obey the dictate
Of an uncompromising magistrate,
Who grants but a meager portion of breath.
Dolefully I approach the grove of death,
Consoled only by the lingering thought
That as the laws of creation are wrought,
Whether I long come to heaven or end,
Upon the garden’s will I must depend,
To see me drift peacefully off to sleep,
And in her flowers my significance keep.

    Am I the product of all that I sense -
    Just fantasy, and nothing more intense?
    Or is there a more refined conception,
    Of which I lack a means of perception?

One enchanted moment of paradise
Arrived in my mind one bright afternoon,
Wrought by some supernatural device
That sent my spirit into a deep swoon.

Would that I could purchase there forever -
Transcendental reality capture,
And hold it in a never-failing clasp!
Henceforth, let bliss be my true endeavor,
With adamant claims to total rapture,
A dispensation of dreams in my grasp!

I am content with earthly enterprise,
But I look e’er to the opposing shore,
In hope that eternity may arise
Per my expectations of something more.

Hand-in-hand we walk along some bright lane,
Going where we are going,
All attempts to turn aside in vain,
Knowing without knowing
That we must move along.

You sing some tune from childhood,
Your voice blending with meadowlark song.
And I would sing, too, if I could.
But my tongue can find no notes to sing.

Strayed to streets cobbled with bones a million years old,
I am a stranger to everything.
The sun shines silver and cold.
Black cherries on stems of alabaster grow -
A taste too sweet to be real.
Hollow lutes from the treetops blow
Some emotion I can no longer feel.

Then you whisper softly in my ear.
And I know that it is time to wake.

Too long have we feared fear.
Too long have we slept for sleep’s sake.

Taunt away, specters of past!
The pain cannot last.
Your time is through,
As all I ever dreamt or knew.

I walked beneath heaven tonight,
Stood underneath endless sky,
Gazed upon a celestial sight,
Looked the gods straight in the eye.

Will you longer detain me here,
Hide behind a bolted door,
Cower under your roof in fear,
Damned earthbound for evermore?

I would fly if I were able,
Recline on a shining star,
Dine from an immortal table,
If my hand could reach that far.

Father Time, don’t leave me behind.
Set my hourglass at never.

Silence is kind.

If you don’t mind,
Wrap me in the hush of forever.

Let not my life be deemed a fleeting dream,
Fast dissipating into nevermore,
Adrift upon time’s everlasting stream,
Floating away to oblivion’s shore!
Let not my breath be aspiration vain,
As transient wind passing through the trees,
An inspiration without lasting gain,
A dying utterance, a wistful breeze!
Let me live each day as my final day,
Breathing each breath as though it were my last!
Let my thoughts in this precious present stay,
Reflecting this universe, deep and vast!
Let this one moment echo forever,
A poem composed on the slate of never!

Roses pink are the sign of my morning,
Symbols of hope for the new-waking day,
Both a greeting of peace and dire warning,
That all things pure and precious pass away.
What is death if we know a day of life?
What is loss if we love but an hour?
All the heavy hurt of our mortal strife,
Redeemed by the blossoms of a flower!
How fragile are the petals of being!
How weakly clings the dew upon the leaves!
How fleeting is this sight I am seeing,
For soon this tender moment wilts and grieves!
 
The thorns and tendrils of impending death
Magnify the worth of each fragrant breath!

O, how free was I when I went my way,
Each dogma cast as grit beneath my tread!
And how the simple facts in order lay,
When rid of every falsehood in my head!
Atheist I am called for my worldview,
Denying lies which render theists blind,
Seeking the path toward all that is true,
With a stalwart heart and resolute mind.
But I have more than rejection of lies
And cowardly comfort of endless breath,
Which religious fools and liars devise
To dull away the sting of certain death.
  Rich in the lavish lap of truth I live,
  Possessing gifts that gods can never give.

When time has slipped from your feeble hold,
And your sands have turned to dust and mold,
When winter winds pass right through you,
When the sun won’t shine and the clouds rain rue,
When you’re left to wonder what it all was for,
Try to succor your soul with something more
Than empty words and lies -
When you’re worn, when you’re old and wise.

When the fight is done,
And the world has won,
Abandon yourself to the forces that control you,
Console your dashed hope with anything that might do.
If you lose your faith that another day shall be,
Of fear and regret be free,
When you come to face demise,
When you’re learned, when you’re old and wise.

Perhaps we shall meet another day.
Suffice it well enough to give hope a say.
Before you take the hand of fate, I want you so to know
I’m proud to have you as my friend – I’ll follow where you go.
And if our time is finished forever,
To make the bond less painful to sever,
I leave this poem to sing the sadness from your eyes,
In the end, when you’re old and wise.

I. East Wind

O East wind, I have awoke to your song
Through lilacs sung, until I am in need
Of nothing more than your voice my life long,
Quickening my spirit with such sweet mead!
With spring you herald the new-dawning day!
Upon wings of glorious being fly,
‘Cross the horizon’s mountain-framed sashes!
O azure angel, have you come to stay,
To cleanse the heavens, clear the clouds, and dry
This dew glistening on my eyelashes?

II. South Wind

South wind, I heard rumors of far-off lands,
Breathed, languid and sultry, soft on my ear,
From wide seas where memory never stands
Still long enough for the meaning to clear.
A tranquil song of carelessness you sing,
An offhand ode to some tropical noon
Seen sailing through palm-secluded harbors.
Tidings of full-blooming blossom you bring,
Swaying cypress beneath the evening moon,
Settling perfumed among rose arbors.

III. West Wind

O west wind whispering from the sunset
Secrets of otherwise-forgotten dead,
Hushing the meadowlark’s joy with regret,
Ushering bulbs and seeds to a cold bed,
Before your low dirge flee the autumn leaves,
Like reluctant spirits on the threshold
Of demise, clutching at the hedge and gate,
While the willows weep, and the lodge pole grieves.
And I am moved to tears; as I grow old,
Believing more each year your words of fate.

IV. North Wind

North wind, in your raving where is the soul?
What fury makes your warlike trumpet blow?
Across the sullen seas you heave and roll,
O’er lifeless lands entombed in ice and snow,
Bringing the march of a barbarous hoard,
Leaving all forests and fields destitute
Before an onslaught of conscienceless harms.
Proud fool, you have put all life to the sword!
Now nothing answers your call for tribute,
Save a rattling of the alder’s arms.

Who has not wondered at the waking morn,
When day opened dew-wet lashes anew,
Of essence who watched while the world was born,
Wearing fragranced lace of virginal hue!
I saw her extend tender fingertips,
Forth aspiring as towering spires,
While shy cherries scarcely dared bare their limbs.
Her bloom proceeded from mystical lips
That whispered of timeless budding desires,
In a choir of a thousand sacred hymns.
__________

Do you remember one warm afternoon,
When she danced in the form of leaves of grass,
To a beat of monarch’s wings and bee tune -
And frolicked free, in revelry and sass,
Until the tulips colored to the rims,
And daffodils brimmed over with nectar!
She was passionate in yielding a gain!
As a sparkling sunbeam in a brook swims,
She reflected her radiant specter,
Dwelling in rainbows after a light rain.
__________

A season of plenty came to her door,
When grain weighed heavy the harvester’s hand,
And no unsatisfied want could ask more
Than a full portion of her fruitful land -
A share in her bountiful granaries!
She had stocked her store with goodness to share.
Thus with no greater virtue to impart,
She gleaned the magic-laden apple trees,
Partaking of the crisp October air,
Until sweet-ripened to the very heart.
__________

In an amber glow of low-setting sun,
Weary drooped below the edge of the sky,
Where bare-boned beeches and alders are done,
I have seen resignation in her eye.
Now remorseless north winds blow cruel and cold,
Sifting the stubbled fields with wisps of snow.
And storm clouds threaten from their lofty lair.
She has forgotten, since she has grown old,
All of her promises made so long ago.
O where are you going, my mother fair?

Place a laurel upon your beaming brow.
Forth assume your rightful title to fame.
Hear how the crowd proudly cheers for you now.
All thumbs direct heavenward your great name.
Though cheers soon diminish, and laurels sour,
And in time, king and vanquished are the same,
Though the brightest shining star fades away,
Come forward, and be anointed this hour!
To the victor go the spoils of the game!
Glory be unto you, god for the day!

See how the stars shine for you -
Countless points of divine light
Whose glorious fires imbue
With promise eternal night.

See how heaven pines for you,
Divining your endless sigh;
Dreams of poppy fields come true,
When in peerless peace you lie.

Though withers fast the vine of ambition,
From the seeds of imagination
Hope shall come to a fruition.
Godhood is my insinuation.

With eternity as my goal,
I can grow anything my heart esteems
On the arbor of my soul,
In a garden of dreams.

Keeper of my destiny,
Hear my final plea.
Bear these words on cosmic flow,
Across eternity.

I declare in parting, so that all may know,
Should time remember me:

Homeward I go!

Now I am free!

© Copyright 2002 by Daniel F Mitchell 
(Released to Public Domain 2004)

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