Tag Archives: poem

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

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

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

 

Flowers

Flowers

Firmly Rooted

Flowers

We’re dying – there’s no denying.
But why waste our precious hours
On a lot of useless crying,
When we might be smelling flowers!

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!

~Daniel F Mitchell

Across a Field of Clover Running

Across a Field of Clover Running

Across a Field of Clover Running

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