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Monday, February 28, 2011


I have seen the evening sun
Sink into the ocean
And rise the next day
Never quenched at all
I have known some true love
And other foolish notions
And all in all
I’ve had myself a ball

I have heard the sound
Of my daughter’s laughter
And listened to the silence
Of a snowy winter’s morn
Guess I’ve been around
The happy ever after
Left behind my innocence
The day that I was born

I should have wrote it down in song
Or stopped to take a picture
It didn’t seem to last too long
And I would likely venture
That life has wings that are unseen
And time just flies away
You wake up one tomorrow
In a dream of yesterday

I have watched the shooting stars
And wondered who was winning
In the velvet summer night
When they lit up the sky
Seen lightning flash, heard thunder roar
I’ve looked for new beginnings
So many things are out of sight
There, right before our eyes

Have you seen the coming of
The glory of the future
Like the rapture, it would not quite
Fit into your plans
But we can’t go damning love
While looking for the truth here
Better yet if we were just to
Love our fellow man

I should have wrote it down in song
Or stopped to take a picture
It didn’t seem to last too long
And I would likely venture
That life has wings that are unseen
And time just flies away
You wake up one tomorrow
In a dream of yesterday

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Indigo and Azure

Indigo and azure
Ocean and sky
Sea waves crashing
Gulls squawk by
Violet sunset
Bleeding through
Shards of crimson
Pierce the blue
The moon amused
To see such passion
Bowed his head
In theatrical fashion
Then lit his face
With candle glow
And hung; a spotlight
For the show

Based in the west country of England

Richard Palmer-Romero painted this seascape from the coast of Spain.

His landscapes, seascapes and animal portraits are quite beautiful.

This image is used with written permission from the artist.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Paradise Beach

Within the heart and mind of man
Are endless shores of shifting sand
Where frothing waves by tempest tossed
Find words unspoken; Eden lost

There at evening’s lowest tide
Wash shells of miracles not yet tried
Whose coverings were for seeds of yore
That cleansed the spirit’s ocean floor

That trials and burdens often bore
Now, one, within the silent roar
Here on shores still wet with brine
Lie dreams and hopes of other times

Where no beachcombers wander near
To save, collect or harvest dear
Memories of an inward quest
To stow within some treasure chest

But here not far from mortal’s reach
Lie pearls and riches on the beach
Pirate’s booty; silver, gold
Wealth that dwells within the soul

Bounty that would kings entice;
The sun and stars of paradise
Heaven’s glory here is told
In every story that unfolds

And here I’ve walked; a mortal man
Yet left no footprints on the sand
And seeing thus, have found it odd
To walk so close to self and God

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


He sat and sang while I listened in awe
Amazed by the vastness of his repertoire
In his gray pinstriped tuxedo singing
He set the bells of morning ringing

The sun not limiting his imitative skill;
From darkness; nightingale and whippoorwill
So many songs and he knew them all;
The wren, the finch and the cardinal

Some of the tunes were bright and gay
Echoing the brilliant light of day
While others were mournful, sad and dark
From swallow’s trill to lilting lark

The shrill piercing cry of red tailed hawk
Was followed by a seagull’s squawk
And to tell each man should spread his song
He threw in a doorbell and a telephone

I was so excited that I laughed with glee
At the myriad of songs he sang for me
A kinship I found in each note that I heard
For the poet is nothing if not mockingbird

Monday, February 21, 2011

Don't Tread on Me

Beneath the pity; before the blush;
Into poor hands few coins are pushed
The change is clearly needed bad
But coins are the only change to be had

Behind the tears; after the shock;
With brutal News at Six O’clock
Torn young bodies never older
War is the art of fools and soldiers

Rich; the house of government schemers
Poor; the pockets of poets and dreamers
I only offer to their poverty
More dreams and words of charity

Art has no value to a body ill
The glorified rich continue to kill
Iron fisted government dons lead glove
While poets and dreamers look for love

Hospitals fill with casualties
Dying of thirst to drink liberty
Crushed by the weight of tyranny
Wounded for dead democracy

It is better to live and die free men
Than serve as slaves of government
Who will serve the wretched men
That murder patriot citizens

Poets and dreamers march in the streets
Bullets and bombs will never defeat
The want and desire for love to lead them
Martyrs will die for the love of freedom

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

In Motion

Day by day, soaking dark warmth from life
Musky mushroom flavor of fresh earth lingers
In the middle of night by the light I write
Clawing reality with typing fingers

Where do the children grow? I’d like to know;
So many dried cocoons but not enough butterflies
Colors dance when they are alive; all else is imitation
The artist with his sable brushes knows this wisdom

Flowers sway, children play, the sea swells brine
The stars shine, the moon glows, the poet knows
The wisdom too in words of rhyme or prose
Color the beauty but it must move to be alive

Coffee stained fingers rinsed in shaving water
Brush the stubble of sleep on an early chin
Pausing to meditate on future events of motion
Wondering at the history of life contained in them

Wiping the steam from the dream and the mirror
In the swipe of a motion philosophy fades
Day and dancing ways of life seem clearer
At least in the reflections that were saved

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Garden Friend (The Hedgehog)

Spiny little garden friend
On insects makes his meal;
Not above the occasional
Earthworm, frog or snail;
Delicious shoots of tender roots;
He’ll even eat a snake!
When you’re a growing hedgehog,
You must do what it takes!

A favorite pet of families
Who feed him nuts and raisins;
He’d just as soon
Have canned pet food;
He likes the chicken flavors!
The household cat to say hello
Stretched out an eager paw
But much amazed by hedgehog ways
Who rolled into a ball

Through tiny holes like tissue rolls
His head is always pushing
This curious little creature;
This animal pin cushion
He visits British gardens
Seeking out his diet
Though you may never see him
He’s mostly out at night

But should you come across one
Upon some rainy day
Be care not to harm him
And let him go his way
He really is quite harmless
So we should come to terms
With the friendly visitor
Who’s only after worms

About Me

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