Search This Blog

Sunday, January 30, 2011

The Trap

By the singing trees near the shining lake
We would set a trap for more and more
We would use raw dreams as candy bait
And tie tinsel things to the secret door

When the morning glory trumpet blew
We’d race like the buzz of honey bees
To pick up diamonds made of dew
And soak the pockets of memories

Through emerald fields we kicked our heels
Like young colts laughing at the sun
In the golden straw we found love’s awe
And wore daisy crowns till day was done

By the shining stars near the singing moon
We would light the candle made of truth
And let the wax wane until it dripped blue
And melted away the joy of youth

Friday, January 28, 2011

Banishment (The nature of light)

In early dawn I slumbered
Wrapped in velvet black of night
Dreams like wishes numbered
In my sleeping inward sight

The morning star came; calling
Gold upon the windowpane
Piercing bright light falling
Sure as day and summer rain

A single crack of curtain
Draped across Venetian blind
Was that failing certain
Covering the light would find

Stabbing through the tiny slit
And into my weary eye
The room all brightly lit
A horrid thing to wake by

How can this be, I pondered
Longing to return to dreams
Of this thing I wondered
Sneaking through the curtain seams

Crack so small and room so bright
Filling up with morning sun
The lovely dreams of night
By a single ray undone

Somehow seemed impossible
The trick of this illusion
I thought not plausible
The source of my confusion

A thread of innocent light
Brightened darkness so neatly
A lesson learned from sight
Banished the night completely

Thursday, January 27, 2011

The Rage of Genius

Chalk Portrait of Caravaggio: Ottavio Leoni 1621

Ocher crusted edge of palette knife
Those you trusted now seek your life
This criminal; a man without a home
Tacit tones subliminal; all the toast of Rome

Stone throwing rages and street fights
Now alone and forced into flight
Ranucio is dead and you, badly wounded
Fled to Alban and from Rome hounded

Befriended by Colonna, still hardened
Determined and grim until your pardon
In Valletta you paint at the Oratory
The Beheading of St. John, a martyr’s story

Gold in your pockets, a snarl on your lip
Roaming the streets with sword on your hip
Knighted and from knighthood fallen
A fugitive now from the isles of Malta

Locked in the Fort Castel Sant’ Angelo
You escape the vengeance of pious pope
Your paintings with your ship set sail
But you were locked up drunk in jail

Broke and broken; no coin to your name
You die pursuing your fleeting fame
Only masterpieces remain to bestow
On the world the name Caravaggio

Saturday, January 1, 2011


Gentle mist stirring above
Tranquil floating kiss of love
Upon the frozen cheek of sky
Winter mornings passing by

Forecast rain or sleet and snow
Tell me where your spirits go
Appearing silent from the blue
Vanishing in heaven’s hue

Summer doldrums breeze might stir
Hoary tufts of rabbit’s fur
Magic tendrils disappear
Into vaults of nervous air

Anvils in the heavens hang
Purple bruises flashing fangs
In bolts electric and exciting
Rumbling thunder, jagged lightning

Children lying in green meadows
Imagine shifting animals
Fantastic dragons and unicorns
Are there by fantasy reborn

Not a place to have one’s head
Like angels for their blissful bed
Bellows of the wind might billow
Sails of rest; celestial pillows

Ethereal white; your wedding veils
Listening for the golden bells
From the sun to shine and sing
In morning like the bright dove’s wing

The black and gray of rainy days
Has sung your darker harmonies
But sweet the pink of soft reflections
Cotton candy spun confections

In my mental predilections
Make you nearer to perfection
Heaven’s curtains; cotton shroud
Blanket me with drifting clouds

About Me

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