Monthly Archives: August 2017

Embodiment of Perfection

Embodiment of Perfection

Embodiment of Perfection

Embodiment of Perfection

Perfection, what is thy name?
Embodied as a decree!
Conceived above any blame
Is this picture of beauty

In form of snow-pure rabbit.
Gentle child of innocence,
Clothed in angel-knit habit,
Delicate creation, whence

Hath thy creator formed thee?
Art thou solely flesh and blood,
Union with divinity,
Or atonement for the flood?

What god hath made thee, that made
This wretched world’s upheaval?
Hath the artist now forbade
The painting of more evil?

Immaculate conception,
Remorse for all saintly lies,
The rosen hue of redemption
Is in thy forgiving eyes.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Where I Am Sown

Where I Am Sown

Life is but Once

Where I Am Sown

Blessed be the flower of hope –
That sprouts roots in any soil,
With all weather willing to cope,
To reap the reward of toil!

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.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

 

Sonnet for a Distant Neighbor

Sonnet for a Distant Neighbor

Sonnet for a Distant Neighbor

Sonnet for a Distant Neighbor

Oft have I gazed across the sea at you,
The lonely void that limits our discourse,
Space gone unmarked by no lack of remorse –
Too far for all but starlight to get through.
If it were within my power to do,
I would take hope’s reins like a mighty steed,
And stride to your pasture in my due need,
That I should make my inquiry anew.

Has your kind arisen from swamp and sea,
To gaze in wonder at the vast expanse,
And consider how it all came to be?
Weighing the infinite odds of pure chance,
Does your regard ever wander to me,
As you watch the beacon of my sun dance?

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Of Tea

Of Tea
Of Tea
Of Tea

My cup of tea is steeped in deepest lore,
From olden times in lost, exotic lands –
The stuff of ardent scenes since days of yore.
I hold a cup of legend in my hands.
Reposed upon my thoughts as on a throne,
Beneath a tropic jungle’s misted light,
In visions of fragrant haze, I am shown
Incense scent from some ancient temple height.
Sweet wisps of Gypsy secrets at my lips,
I recollect the wealth of friendships past,
Dispelled to naught, like vaporizing ships,
‘Cross seas of mystery and romance vast.
With kindred souls I sip, and muse, and dream,
And sail away on wafts of sultry steam.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Rose for a Nightingale

Rose for a Nightingale
Rose for a Nightingale
Rose For A Nightingale 

Nightingale, thou art not forlorn,
Thy sacrifice not made in vain –
That hung thy life upon a thorn,
And tempered true love with its stain.

Purity, thou art not slighted
By the spurn of a thankless sway.
Thy charity stands unblighted,
Though the whole world withers away.

Nightingale, thy sweet notes impart
The tenets of a godly role.
I hold thy bloom against my heart,
And sing thy song within my soul.

~ Daniel F Mitchell