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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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Boone, North Carolina, United States
North Carolina poet and musician Fabian G. Franklin invites you to join him on a poetic journey through the soul.