Category Archives: Poetry

Poetry

Wanderlust

Wanderlust

Wanderlust

Wanderlust

These city walls suppress my breath!
Within a world shaded with doom,
The living live a waking death,
Trapped within an airless tomb.

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!

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Dry Leaf

Dry Leaf

Dry Leaf

Dry Leaf

Oh, dry leaf, insignificant and transient,
Formed so, and abandoned so,
That your passing should have a fixed course,
That your rustling might linger for a time more,
That remembrance of your passing might linger,
This is the core want of my substance.
This is the dire need of my soul, oh, dry leaf.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Shadows and Sand

Shadows and Sand

Shadows and Sand

Shadows and Sand

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.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

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