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Saturday, March 16, 2013

Old Age, Death and the Poet

Mornings come unsolicited; peeling away the comforting edges of night
Secret vistas my mind had visited hang surreal in dreamy lingering light
Outside, cold clouds drift the blue; covering my dreams in shades of gray;
Blanketing sorrows with somber hue; hopes of tomorrow with cruel today

The spring of eternal hope has stopped; plugged with rocks of insecurity;
Fallen from vast walls around my heart where time and death are surety
The hoary frost upon the land has settled into my thinning hair and beard
Things I know and understand have become instruments of pain and fear

Cummings said, “Old age sticks”. Shakespeare asked, “What dreams may come?”
Is that it then? Do we cease living; fathoming depths of death; grown numb?
I am left with the love song of Eliot sitting by the crash of stormy seas
Feeling I am but a pair of ragged claws. The mermaids will not sing for me.

Distant hills are beckoning; draped in purple gowns and egret feather hats
Where once I roamed; a boy and his dog, why do I choose to remember that?
What is happiness but peace of mind? Is it also adventure into the unknown?
If that were so; death would be kind to frail and crippled flesh and bone.

Ms. Dickinson could not stop for death and so it kindly stopped for her
But now I count my hours left passing in passenger train-like blur
Stop for me I beckoned but rumbling along; it seems life passed me by
My voice fades in faltering echoes as my poetry and songs both die

Do not, I beg, expect from me; visions of eternity. I never met with God.
Shall I be saved; spared from the grave or sickening thud of falling clods?
The dead do not hear; so I might be spared the sound of devouring earth
I strive to recall those first sounds of arrival from the moment of my birth

Where does youth go? In truth, I do not know. But it can be captured by hearts
This life I am married to like a wife will soon divorce me as we part
Perhaps I will find my youth again in distant hills beyond the clouds
Will dreams return with life reborn or am I only dreaming now?


Friday, March 8, 2013

Something in the Water

Something in the Water


We walked down to the river
Just to get out of the heat
In a red tee shirt and blue jean shorts
You were pretty as you could be

When you stripped down
To your black bikini
I know what I was dreaming of
Must have been something in the water
That made me fall in love

Splashed and swam all afternoon
Till our cheeks were a rosy red
You were laughing and smiling too
At all the crazy things I said

I wrapped you up in my beach towel
Wrapped you up in my arms
While I was trying to catch your eye
I was captured by your charms

There aint nothing like that feeling
On that sweet hot summer’s day
Must have been something in the water
That made me feel this way

There was something in the water
Something in your smile
There was something in your laughter
That drove this poor boy wild
Something in my heart told me
Some things I shouldn’t say
But I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss
Because you made me feel this way

I was feeling a little giddy
Getting drunk on your perfume
Your tangled hair so sexy
Your lip gloss shining too

There aint nothing in no alcohol
Or up in heaven above
That can ever touch that feeling at all
As I was drowning in your love


Was it something in the water
Or something in your kiss
That made my soul lose all control
And fall in love like this

As I held your body closer
I held what I was dreaming of
There was something in the water
That made me fall in love

There was something in the water
Something in your smile
There was something in your laughter
That drove this poor boy wild
Something in my heart told me
Some things I shouldn’t say
But I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss
Because you made me feel this way

You and me in the water baby
There’s nothing left to say



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.