I loved you
since the time I looked
into the deep oceans of your eyes.
From the waves of passion thrashing
beneath my earthly body,
to stormless shoals smothered
with warmth of morning sun.
Disabused of name or tongue
or past ships lost
to uncharted Atlantis,
I found you in a place
where infinite sky meets
the bottomless sea.
Because I loved you more
than space could hold,
more than I could fit
in a smaller world.
Now I know why stars explode
across the Universe,
what marks the road to take
to distant worlds.
And there with you I'll go,
our destinies complete-
though not in terms of endings
set with time or date,
but our journey together
that never ends.
How I've loved you!
But I can only love you more
as I sail across your oceans
and we love upon the shores.
Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas Sonata
Of glancing snowflakes fondling the waiting earth,
Or hunted geese safely huddled on the pond,
Of smoke-swept chimneys with smell of burning wood
And lighted houses glistening like the sun.
Of cards and gifts from those both known and loved,
Rememberance of whom departed but yet beloved,
Of song and dance that make the heart feel gay,
Each and all a gift of Christmas Day.
I see your eyes within the twinkling lights
And feel your presence with each flake of snow,
Your warmth and spirit the billowy stream of smoke,
The goose-lined pond the tender space of home.
Though Christmas Day may leave us far apart,
Thoughts of you shall linger in my heart.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
Or hunted geese safely huddled on the pond,
Of smoke-swept chimneys with smell of burning wood
And lighted houses glistening like the sun.
Of cards and gifts from those both known and loved,
Rememberance of whom departed but yet beloved,
Of song and dance that make the heart feel gay,
Each and all a gift of Christmas Day.
I see your eyes within the twinkling lights
And feel your presence with each flake of snow,
Your warmth and spirit the billowy stream of smoke,
The goose-lined pond the tender space of home.
Though Christmas Day may leave us far apart,
Thoughts of you shall linger in my heart.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
Monday, December 15, 2008
Christmas in Vermont
Green Mountains covered in winter ice
unmoved by the tumbling river below
that twists itself over boulders left
long before the snow.
A narrow country road, it snakes
a route beside the stream,
winding and weaving, high and low
mimicking each fickle slope-
a tableau fit for dreams.
Gabled rooftops protrude the icey veil
revealing saltboxes having tallowed the road-
motley structures huddled in clusters
as if to stay warm
from the stinging cold.
Neither buildings tall or showy or many
(yet poignant in their stories centuries told)
nor bustling streets chockablock with neon disturb
the peaceful lanes which shape
this village frozen in time.
Who should live in this place
time has forgotten?-
a scene reminiscent
of a Grandma Moses painting
of a quaint New England town fast asleep,
whose dreams are contagious to every dreamer,
that tug at your heartstrings to stay,
that make you want to linger.
Without regret, I'll leave
a part of me here-
dreams of a simpler life perhaps
or the hope for a World more serene
with kindness and love for all to show-
to stay here long after
my footprints
in the snow.
Copyright 2008 Francis D. Daniels
unmoved by the tumbling river below
that twists itself over boulders left
long before the snow.
A narrow country road, it snakes
a route beside the stream,
winding and weaving, high and low
mimicking each fickle slope-
a tableau fit for dreams.
Gabled rooftops protrude the icey veil
revealing saltboxes having tallowed the road-
motley structures huddled in clusters
as if to stay warm
from the stinging cold.
Neither buildings tall or showy or many
(yet poignant in their stories centuries told)
nor bustling streets chockablock with neon disturb
the peaceful lanes which shape
this village frozen in time.
Who should live in this place
time has forgotten?-
a scene reminiscent
of a Grandma Moses painting
of a quaint New England town fast asleep,
whose dreams are contagious to every dreamer,
that tug at your heartstrings to stay,
that make you want to linger.
Without regret, I'll leave
a part of me here-
dreams of a simpler life perhaps
or the hope for a World more serene
with kindness and love for all to show-
to stay here long after
my footprints
in the snow.
Copyright 2008 Francis D. Daniels
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Reflections From Time Bandits (A Musical CD by Pier Paderni and Andrea Ortu)
Like mirrors looking back
to forgotten paths,
laughing, loving, dreaming-
dream's food, images de'ja vu.
On echoing notes thoughts ride
a magic carpet through endless sky,
timeless moments,
worlds unknown,
but known.
Spirit of Light,
Goddess of Night
whose starburst flush my eyes,
could it be my old home,
a friend, a love, a life?
What piper this be
who guides me here?
What god he serves,
what rite?
Lost in the sound,
stripped and bear,
free willing spirit I am
floating in air.
'Cross twinkling lakes
and bamboo streams, drenched
in winds of unchained melody
and love unbound
through space and time.
Copyright 2008 Francis D. Daniels
to forgotten paths,
laughing, loving, dreaming-
dream's food, images de'ja vu.
On echoing notes thoughts ride
a magic carpet through endless sky,
timeless moments,
worlds unknown,
but known.
Spirit of Light,
Goddess of Night
whose starburst flush my eyes,
could it be my old home,
a friend, a love, a life?
What piper this be
who guides me here?
What god he serves,
what rite?
Lost in the sound,
stripped and bear,
free willing spirit I am
floating in air.
'Cross twinkling lakes
and bamboo streams, drenched
in winds of unchained melody
and love unbound
through space and time.
Copyright 2008 Francis D. Daniels
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Matrix
See how the sun eases from its sleep.
There's no need to fear the day.
Should you listen, you may hear
the songbirds sing, and smell
sweet blossoms suffused in air.
There's no worry in the seagull's cry-
he's announcing his eagerness to play,
nor the grimace in the pelican's face,
rather, an aloof disposition smuggly displayed.
And the wind as it wafts across the sea,
stirring, fast and free,
is marking its fate with some sailing ship
for a new port to reach.
And as the day falls asleep,
dark, sullen voices appear,
no need to fear the night
for it is guarded by the moon
who rains out her kisses about the earth
and magic flitter from her starry sisters,
who fill our thoughts with wistful contemplation-
To awake to find a new morning
morphed from the matrix
of our dreams.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
There's no need to fear the day.
Should you listen, you may hear
the songbirds sing, and smell
sweet blossoms suffused in air.
There's no worry in the seagull's cry-
he's announcing his eagerness to play,
nor the grimace in the pelican's face,
rather, an aloof disposition smuggly displayed.
And the wind as it wafts across the sea,
stirring, fast and free,
is marking its fate with some sailing ship
for a new port to reach.
And as the day falls asleep,
dark, sullen voices appear,
no need to fear the night
for it is guarded by the moon
who rains out her kisses about the earth
and magic flitter from her starry sisters,
who fill our thoughts with wistful contemplation-
To awake to find a new morning
morphed from the matrix
of our dreams.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
Saturday, October 25, 2008
A Temple Long Ago
Lives shroud in dark silence,
lost to oblivion the names,
but forever live the memory
long ago.
The mirror of time, glass unbroken,
so many faces we've come to own,
while the feelings remain the token
of long ago.
Stoic temple, stones stern and cold,
perched high on misty mountaintop,
from where we cloaked ourselves
from the vagaries of life too grim
to behold- long, so long ago.
A lesson from the robins, nightingales
and owls who never shun the trees,
wildflowers who grace the meadows and moors,
the mantes, beetles and bees
unspoken, but purpose not forgotten:
Like a lotus in a stream,
like the magic of a dream,
in the hourglass we are the sand,
as the heart portrays the play
and the mind recalls the day
when life was long ago.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
lost to oblivion the names,
but forever live the memory
long ago.
The mirror of time, glass unbroken,
so many faces we've come to own,
while the feelings remain the token
of long ago.
Stoic temple, stones stern and cold,
perched high on misty mountaintop,
from where we cloaked ourselves
from the vagaries of life too grim
to behold- long, so long ago.
A lesson from the robins, nightingales
and owls who never shun the trees,
wildflowers who grace the meadows and moors,
the mantes, beetles and bees
unspoken, but purpose not forgotten:
Like a lotus in a stream,
like the magic of a dream,
in the hourglass we are the sand,
as the heart portrays the play
and the mind recalls the day
when life was long ago.
Copyright 2008 Francis Don Daniels
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