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Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Dementia




Walking home one summer night
The sky was filled with sudden light
A shooting star that left a trail
Behind a multi-colored tail

Too swift to be a comet's light
A meteoroid or meteorite
Broken off as a piercing spear
Traversing through the atmosphere

And I alone witnessed the sight
As I stood below the burning light
Wondering how I might explain
A sight that others had not seen

Like spotting a fairy or an elf
Some things are best kept to oneself;
Certainly heavenly trails of fire
Lest one be branded as a liar

And so I spoke not a word for fear
As summers passed me year by year
Until at last I had grown old
And the thing was never told

At last I found I was not afraid
Of what others thought or others said
I became free to suffer a whim
It mattered not if they thought me dim

There was such a shining light in me
Burning bright with liberty
And I had become that shooting star
Of a memory that had traveled far




Saturday, November 4, 2017

Overboard



There were owls before dawn
Singing to each other
One song; long and loud,
The other, soft and deep

Clouds drifted dark sky
A light breeze blew
And a fine mist
Made soft and easy sweep

Soon came a dripping
And low, distant thunder
Dreams slipping
Between majestic trees

The great owls hushed
Eerie silence ensued
Until lightning flashed
Adrift on celestial seas

Roaring ocean waves
Beyond morning's door
Through a mighty sieve
Tapping window panes

Owls became hosts
To summer's sighing ghost
Slipping overboard
In cold November rain

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Lost on the Bayou



Deep in the shadows
Green lights play
Will o' the wisp
At the close of day
Black licorice trunks of
Bald cypress decay
Drifting ghost mists
Dance and sway

Spanish moss drips
On dryer ground
From mighty oaks
Where mint is found
Near beds of moss;
Drops of blood
Flower from green;
Soft underfoot

Rich is the air
With the smell of loam
In the place that
Lichens call their home
Thoughts become tangled
As mangrove roots
Flowers hang from
Extended shoots

Honeysuckle, sickening sweet
Drifts in humid August heat

Alligators swim
Beneath and through
Black water brackish
Along the bayou
Mosquitoes hum
With dragonflies
Wings like drums
Of voodoo rites

See the spider
Drop from his thread
Spinning silk
Building his web
Over pools of
Soft quicksand
As water ripples
With moccasins

Here the serpent
Is king on a throne
Wherever he slithers
He finds a home
Hawks scream warning
Too late to turn back
Lost where waters
Are cool and black

Deep in the shadows
Green lights drown
Black waters rise
To drink them down
With souls of the lost
Until skies turn blue
As red-throated loons
Sing in the bayou

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Water, Blood and the Sea



There was water and sound
In the womb
Motion and warmth inside

There is life and salt
In the ocean
Endless flow of wave and tide

There was a rush of blood
In our birth
Forced into the cold and light

Whitecaps push onto the shore
In a hush
Washing sand cool and white

The coral seems umbilical
On the floor
Of the throbbing sea

Resting upon the bed of earth
With the urchin
And the anemone

In the vast pulse of the spherical
World it flows
Blood in the heart of humanity

And there all is as it should be
Salt and life
Water, blood and the sea

Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Harvest Prayer


Blankets of fog rest softly on corn
Caressing brown tassels in early light
A soft mist kisses the cheeks of morning
And soothes the soul with ethereal white

Across the field, shadows of trees
Stand silhouette like guards of dawn;
Soldiers silent in corridors eastern
Await the king in castles of the sun

He burns in glory just below the horizon
Sending forth rays into velvet sky
Pulling quilts from the beds of his children
As they raise their green sleeves high

The palaces glow in rosy reflection
Clouds crown the day with a wreath
Then golden laurels in every direction
And every honor the sun can bequeath

Waking stalks rustle quietly in prayer
Their striated leaves like a chorus
Whispering hope to the farmer where
He stands listening for their voices

Sunday, September 17, 2017

In Davy Jones' Locker



Beneath the crushing weight
Of waves and endless tides
Below the blue, into the night
A pirate ship with treasure hides

Coins of gold and precious jewels
Upon the bottom rest
Where Davy Jones laughs at fools
Who seek his treasure chest

In life, he was a simple man;
A sailor by his trade
Since, the captain has been damned
For prideful boasts he made

He went sailing round the Cape
With lockers full of plunder
And dared that God or stormy sea
Should ever take him under

Between Agulhas and The Point
At a place they call "Good Hope"
There arose a mighty storm
No mortal man could cope

For all the skipper's daring talk
And deals made with the devil
It was God's plank he had to walk
And there befell him evil

For such a wicked wave arose
And swept the open deck
It pulled the hull and sails below
Until the ship was wrecked

Then to the bottom of the sea
Went Davy with his crew
And true believers they will be
Who round the Cape anew

Crags are washing in the churn
And jagged boulders bare
Near here the sea took Davy Jones
But no man can say where

But if you look for pirate's gold
Or adventure, seek your measure
Take warning in the tale that's told
Of Davy and his treasure

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Soldiers





Soldiers. soldiers
Where are you bound
And what are you going to do
With those hand grenades and bayonet blades?
Where are you marching to?

Soldiers , soldiers
Where have you been
Have you conquered another hill?
When explosions cease, will you find peace
Or will you be soldiers still?

About Me

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Poet and musician Fabian G. Franklin invites you to join him on a poetic journey through the soul and nature.