Tag Archives: poem

To Bathe in Eternal Rain

To Bathe in Eternal Rain

To Bathe in Eternal Rain

To Bathe in Eternal Rain

Do you fear to be free?
Are you afraid to fly,
To be, but not to be,
To be born as you die,
To bathe in eternal rain,
To wash off this mud,
You, clad in pain,
Imprisoned in flesh and blood!

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Back into the Black Hole

Back into the Black Hole

Back Into The Black Hole

Back into the Black Hole  

Cosmic dust is what we are,
Remnants of an ancient star,
Drifted to a distant shore,
To dance a while in sunlight,
Then slip away into the night,
Back into the black hole once more.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

 

Fading Alone

Fading Alone

Fading Alone

Fading Alone

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.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Hay-Hauler

Hay-Hauler

Hay Hauler

Hay-Hauler

I will remember you, boy man of years ago,
In the last lavender glimmer of summer day,
Walking out of the back field in a golden glow,
Wearing the perfume of sweat and newly-baled hay.

I will recall your thoughts as you looked behind you,
Beyond farm and fences to the wandering sun,
Wondering what would be, years after you were through,
And if time would still remember what you had done.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Of Counting Sunbeams

Of Counting Sunbeams

Counting Sunbeams

Of Counting Sunbeams

I count the sunbeams of golden noon,
Sowing glory upon my outstretched hand –
My form of mud, of dust, of crumbling sand.
Perhaps I reap a swathe of harvest moon.

As distant fantasies of my childhood,
Upon the angel-winged breeze I ride,
United, as one with evil and good.
In the reflection of stars, I abide.

I distill all feeling into one breath,
Divinity upon the autumn air.
I justify the weight of looming death,
Abiding here, yet being everywhere.

I sing today the song of all I see.
I appraise the worth of my conception –
Basking in the effulgent mystery,
Of being a moment of perception.

With uplifted voice, today I refrain –
Should tomorrow’s chance never come again.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

 

Pumpkin Patch

Pumpkin Patch

Pumpkin Patch

Pumpkin Patch

A pumpkin patch is a magical plot,
A lush supernatural garden spot,
Where goblins and ghouls meet to masquerade
As plain orange pumpkins out on parade.

A pumpkin patch is a rendezvous place,
Where summer disappears without a trace,
And autumn turns down a dark, narrow lane,
To hide in vines on a parallel plane
With all of the past seasons come and gone
To their final spring on a wizen lawn.

A pumpkin patch is paradise on earth,
A haven for friendless spirits to roam,
To which all drifters are destined from birth,
A home for ghosts who never found a home.

Come, lonely wanderers, rest from your day.
Rolling, rustling, leaves will show you the way
To gather together with a drear host,
And join in chorus with the silent throng.

When some night, I become a lonely ghost,
I will haunt a pumpkin patch the night long.

 

~ Daniel F Mitchell