Garden of Poetry

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

Across a Field of Clover Running

Across a field of clover running,
Through the dew-wet sward I go,
Laws of earth and heaven shunning,
Through the streams of sunshine flow.

Bees on nectarous blossoms dancing,
Butterflies upon the wing,
Witness all my aimless prancing,
Hear the joyful song I sing.

Out across the emerald ceiling,
Soaring out across the green,
Like a swooping swallow feeling
Light as I have ever been,

Above a glorious clover field,
I move between the earth and sky.
To no element will I yield.
Listen to my exuberant cry

~ Daniel F Mitchell

~ Daniel F Mitchell

It has always been my contention
That life is a foolish waste of time.
There is no need for apprehension
As to the true meaning of a mime.

In my limited comprehension,
All human convention is a farce.
Effort is a futile pretension,
The resistance of a stubborn arse.

But then, I have a sense of humor,
A downright happy-go-lucky style.
I just laugh at this silly rumor,
While I amuse myself for a while.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

White Horses Ride
 

White horses ride the tide this night,
Spry upon the rolling waves!
Their hooves churn wild the salty spray!
Whitecaps surge at their passing flight!
Spindrift ‘neath their spirit raves,
That billows near then breaks away!

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

~ Daniel F Mitchell