Dan Writes a Poem

I will get around to a bit more fiction at some point, but I wanted to branch off into another genre today. Breathe a collective sigh, if you will, as I introduce some of the world’s most amateur poetry!

Actually I feel pretty good about these ones, it’s the dozens that I’ve brushed under the carpet that I really don’t want you to see. I’m simply going to copy and paste from my files, see what you good people think, and then allow my poetic side to quietly bow out again until further notice.

I won’t do too much of the interpretation legwork for you, but I will say this: while one of these poems is light and sweet, the other two reflect times of sadness in my life. They aren’t angsty, but then they aren’t uplifting either. I hope you can appreciate both, as each sentiment has a place in the human experience. Mine, at least.

Without further delay:


You’ve been waiting on the other side
Mountains between moments.

A tiny trail of last night’s sounds
Its smells, its faces.

He’s been up watching for you
Dry orange expectations
Sending signals blindly heavenward.

She was in that dark room
He could not say her name
Without opening his lips.

Liquid euphoria in his arms
His blood runs warmly
One rapture
Buried in new light.

Good morning


How much I wanted you right then
You skittered slightly underground
Afraid of scavengers aprowl
Your cross dangling sideways.

The cream of towering gods you drank
Curdled in their hearts and passed
Awkward through space, cast over hills
To you, sweet one, to you.

Carrying cloves in long red lines
Crisscrossing earth unsplendidly
I sought your face from here to home
Heaven broke my brow and haunted you.

Today, you were full and wonderful
Near and far and kept in jars
You fluttered up, and looking down
You saw my soul and cried.

I tried and did my best to mend
But I was bruised and bested then
The more her needle rose and fell
The faster flew my soul to hell.


Your wet warm statement froze
Locked in long lines and lettering
A spacious ode to please the few
Sometime faithful gathered here.

You sang
We listened briefly then
Dusky days and dreamers tangled
Drowned in new absurdities
Stories, shame and wildflowers.

Such small sparrows circling down
A voice familiar, comforting
Winter you said
Unknown to me
Your name slipped into my heart.

Lips defined in algebra
Absolutes and symmetry
Low lofty thoughts
Her hands concise
Captured cold within the hour.

They’ll bury you where you stand
They’ll swallow your fire away
Your gentle expectations
Your name signed in concrete terms.

Were you their son and so an heir?
Were you a scripted syllable?

I was not then as now aware
My heart, you’re young and now
You’re late.


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