Ode To Birth

( A grim darkness blanketed all of Eire.
During battle the noble king, Nuada, lost
his hand and thus his reign.
To power rose the evil will of tyranny,
and suppressed all the while,
the People of Danu languished
across the land.
Being true to his creed,
the great healer, Dianceht, summoned
his powers to fit the mangled wrist of Nuada
with a silver hand, while Miach, his son, infused
it with human motion and feeling.
Grasping his Sword of Light, Nuada fought
his people free,
and Eire and the Tuatha D`e Danaan
flourished once again. )


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My love is solemn never to be alloyed,
tainted or colored, weakened and thus destroyed.
It is my nature from which all things abound,
phantasms of creation for worlds I found.
It is the holy spirit that which I am
as everlasting waters. I am the dam
that feeds the rippling stream and caring shoal
whereupon the burdened lie when journey's old.

And as with the dawn, I rise above the bank
annointing the fragrant lime about the shore,
to nourish the seeds of nectar from which I drank
and seal our rite together for evermore.

And knealing beneath my alter of the Earth,
I conjure with sacred verse which is my birth.

Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels

The Enlightenment

( Author's Note: The following text is inspired
by the philosophical works of L. Ron Hubbard,
to whom I am eternally grateful.)

I am touched by your aura
as with magical music and mystical wind.
Thousands of miles are but a grain of sand.

So it is you who make the seasons,
the earth which flows
from the mouth of the sea
to a perfect rose and majestic peaks.

( Even these words I write
are words written with a beauty
which is your hand. )

Spirit of Wine
with bouquet so sweet
the senses faint nearing it,
flood fragrant essence
in the air of my vine
and my limbs droop
limp with sweet drunkeness.

Creator of time without moment,
maker of space without place,
former of all things without form,
yet I feel your presence stirring
in the air like rays of sunlight soothing
my face.

Teacher of love and light,
by your example show the way
to the life of the eight circles, or dynamics,
which live in you.

To see
the harmony of the Universe
first begins with me.

Make me your comrade
to traverse the seas and shores
and help restore the light
to all the eyes of Earth:

The love and care for self,
for spouse and child
and friends and countrymen,
the Caucasian, the Negro and Mongol,
the flowering plants and budding trees,
animals, birds and the fishes of the seas,
for the planet on which we depend called Earth,
and beauty of all the beings of creation-
to journey upon the road of Infinity,
when we own again our godlike stature,
and live the grandeur
of Immortality.

Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels

The Whispers of Kokopelli

In the distance a panorama of mystic buttes
standing vigilant like watchtowers over the mesa-
monuments to Mother Earth's sacred birth.
It is a place of harmony and peace,
its earthen tones of sepia and rust,
as with a painter's brush, mingles
with the golden hues of sun,
to blaze the tablelands with scarlet skies.


( The magic lands of the Anasazi. )
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The sun shines more with each passing day.
Sheets of ice blanketing the earth have melted away.
The reckless winds having raged
with wild abandon seem contented now
to whisper through the lands.

With hands still haunting of winter chill,
cheeks raw and numb,
(though shelters in the ground
a bit warmer now)
and baskets dwindling fast
to last of winter stores,
I've come to know the meaning of joy.

The whispering winds grow louder
with inextricable tone,
different than winter's sharp cries of despair,
there's a resonance that touches the heart,
quickens the spirit to lift it up
where it belongs.

Might it be the Great Spirit Creator-
the hope that wrest from winter frost
the makings of youthful Spring?

Or, a spirit ancestor
pledged by his code to share
his infinite benevolence.

But, oh!
It's Kokopelli with his flute!
Dancing to the magic notes he plays
while upon his hunched back brings
the seeds of Life,
the songs of Spring,
and despite his heavy burden makes
a lasting plenitude.

His music and merriment
a testament to our aegis,
infusing whatever hardship be borne,
is, a mere pittance to pay
for the joy to create.

And I gathered up my cedar flute,
lips and fingers numb,
and to the whispers of Kokopelli,
I played.

Copywright 2009 Francis Don Daniels

When I Am a Poet

One day when I am a poet
I shall sing to you a song.
A song that tells the secret love
in words I cannot say.


One day when I am a poet
I will share with you the dreams
I dream of you each day-
dreams which stay unspoken.


Love-a word which is so small
but means so much
that I'm embarrased to say.
For my feelings for you so overflow
my senses, that all the books ever written
could not tell the story.


How do I say
that one day without you
is a lifetime lost;
how do I tell you
that life without you
is a flower despoiled of bloom,
a bird with withered song.


How do I tell you with words?


One day when I am a poet.


Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels

The Harmony

("...Let reason, the gift divine, be thy highest guide.
Then should you be separated from the body,
you will be imperishable, a divinity, a mortal no more."
Pythagoras, The Golden Verses)



Look around you!
There's music in everything we see.
The sky with its lofty tones resounding
from a rainbow harp.
The forest its violins
whose quivering strings sweetly plucked
by bows of the wind,
serenade a sleepy earth
like songbirds singing hymns.


And there is play.
And love.


Why not change residencies for a day?
Permit yourself to slip past
the barricades of time and space,
to venture free from the trodden path
into the open fields of worlds unclaimed.


Life is a flower.
Let its petals unfurl and bloom
into the magic colors of its fate.
Forever nourish the roots
from which it sprang,
to blossom forth that vital sweetness
which makes all in your magic garden
wax with the music of love.


Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels

The Piano

From your piano
the golden notes that sing
the sounds of life and love
more pure and real than earthly things,
migrating us back to places and times
buried in tombs marked
by solemn epitaph the final ending.
To know ourselves from times before
that stretch to now the written legacy,
to carry forth the dreams of yore
into a new beginning.

One continuous stream of light,
brighter than brightest rays of day,
softer than quiet glimmers of night,
speak to us and point the way
we have long forgotten.

Without you life of beauty is lost;
without you life lived is grim;
without you our dreams slowly fade
to empty material whim.

Speak piano, forever speak
the golden tones we cannot say,
with your magic wand of flitter cast
the future for us to make.

Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels

Tickling the Moon's Feet

Why have we come to hide our hearts,
Why are we here to stealth our souls,
Why do we waste away our precious gift.

Today when I looked into your eyes
you did not see me.

You and I, let's tread away
the silly charade and fly
about the clouds until
our hearts and minds go
crazy with raging love. Mocking
earth's solid clocks and rules,
we'll dance the night to dawn,
even tickle the moon's feet
for a mischievous laugh or two.

So when looking into your eyes,
the world becomes a magic garden,
with colors so bright I shield
my eyes to see. Touching
your hand a river of peace courses
through my veins to make
me drunk with sweet ecstasy.

Now that we are here, it is
as if we're one with infinity:
with reason to live to share
our infinite love,
with reason to love to make
ourselves complete.
Or why would we have come
so far.

Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels