PERSEVERANCE

This will stand though the ground gives way.
His word and truth, the same this day.
Though stars will fade and give their last,
there is a hope that will not pass.
A trumpet calls from our true home,
a savior who died alone.
He made alive what was born dead,
fists and thorns he payed in red.
He bought with blood both you and me,
Our dear Christ is victory.  

~Daniel

Celestial Limerick

This poem was the result of a midnight hike, I do love adventure.

Café Muse

Café Muse 

The sharpened clink of a coffee cup,

as saucer and beverage interrupt.

A noisy blend of steam and grind,

so oft a harbor for the work taxed mind.

A rich warm fragrance fills the air,

of any café anywhere.

But you descend on dry-roast wing,

and fill my veins with pure caffeine.

You carry my troubles away from me, 

Oh barista and valkyrie.

~ Daniel 

Vesper

Vesper

Between Autumn's whispered breeze, and naked arms of maple trees.
Under a waxing moonlit sky, my father heard a trebled cry.
A snarled bark split through the fog.  He ordered "Son secure the dog."
I muzzled Duncan and shut the door, paws pounded at the floor.
I asked "What is it, has something died?" "Get my gloves." He replied.
"The leather ones and a light!" my pulse quickened that fevered flight.
I returned short out of breath, with gloves to work life or death?

The flashlight lit his fingertips, talons turned within his grip.
A rattled rustle of wire mesh, a creature clothed in feathered flesh.
Magnificent struggling coiled mess, a predacious prince nonetheless.
An Owlet young a fledge at best, in chicken wire from wings to breast.
Gently hands unwound, my father's breath a soothing sound.
The raptor resigned to its fate, allayed its fears for a freer state.
Gauntlet griping cradle touch, wild night beast my father's clutch.

There he held with one strong hand, our sentinel wings slightly fanned.
Low he said " take the other glove", its wide eyes cast light above.
He handed me without a word, this giant silent pensive bird.
Still it searched both our eyes, then the limbs and the skies.
Pinions poised set to spring, pounds of pressure on loft lift wing.
A second split in savage flight, born through the air into the night.
To reside alit in these, ancient bows of maple trees.


~Daniel

Respire

Respire

(Another day I almost died)

Thank God for every single breath,
a sliver's slice, twixt life and death.
A fulcrum pin that holds at bay,
Paper thin this precious day.
A mirror's width and single glance,
Shallow scratch sans happenstance.

"This is your's", I declare.
Never before so awe-aware.

 Each light lung-full anther gift.
 As clay ribs draw and lift.

 Alive, I inhale, again.

 ~Daniel

Entrance

Entrance  

(To the lost of Maaloula)

Awe as in awful, awe (full) with pure fear.

Pouring in oceans, drowning the dear.

Buildings like waxworks, kissed by the Sun. 

Ashen dust drawing deep into lungs.

Cut down cross fire, from every side.

Here in the half light, where half-truths abide.

Assure your firm foreknown, reveal your troth Bride.

Peal back broken instinct of paper thin (now).

Make present your Kingdom, with gleaming gold prow.

Faint and failing this moment of pain.

Folded deeper and richer, made more than the same.

Truer sure founded, roots as living stone.

Known in the marrow quick blood and white bone.

There is a shore, a new place to call home.

2 Cor 4:17
~Daniel

Reynard & Vixen

(a fox love poem)

There in the heather, down near the fen,

Where thistles wile whimsy, and ferns all attend.

Low in the bracken, bramble and brush,

Flowers sing sonnets to the Sun's bashful blush.

Here in the briar as raindrops still fall,

Spring beckons its May morning call.

Troth in affection, both red and white,

Foxes in love, to dawning day light.

~Daniel

Beauty (a Warrior Song)

Beauty 

(a Warrior Song)

Fists, Blood and bone, scraping earth and shale. 

Cut red deep, staining tooth and nail. 

She Holds fast at any cost,

chases after any lost.

Pursues with grace for Heaven's sake.

Amid a greater mercies' wake .

The price is heavy because it's free,

This debt was payed on Calvary.

Blessed peacemaker who enters fray,

Holy Saint who fights this day.

(Deserve) is a word not on her tongue.

She breaths in Christ with every lung.

Forgiveness without apology,

Miracle worker on bruise bent knee.

~Daniel

Biblioclast

Biblioclast

A noble work, monument, reflection of its maker.

Perfect bound, Saddle stitch, French fold, Pen and paper.

Did the Luminary grieve the printing press? 

Did the Setter foresee this distress?Pages twisting pulp and sinew, leather's swarthy whistle-crack.

From Gutenberg to Heidelberger to Nuremberg in black.

Heaped up high upon each other.

Volumes, cling to one another.

Covers rent to the Author's cries.

Ink ash spires paint black the skies.

Temple, alter, synagogue... parliament-minaret & steeple.

People burning, burning books. Books and burning people.

~Daniel

Inspired by ~Heinrich Heine 1797-1856  "Where they have burned books,

they will end in burning human beings" 

Speak

Speak

A whisper of a sound, spreads infinite abound.

Tears through empty still.

No silence can resist, as syllables persist.       

Splitting, dark into light, void into fill.

Tethered one to the next, dulcet and complex.

Ever anon nature must yield.

Pouring over and in, founding firm origin. 

Pressing deep all that is sealed.

Pealing passed what is made, giving value to shade.

Foundational form from unfixed.

Expanses to finite, rushing faster then light.

Gracing all that He speaks. 

~Daniel

inspired by (John 1:1-5) & (Genesis 1)

Insolvent

Insolvent  

Oh what glory wonder,

here you've brought your heavens low.

And in my earthen weakness.

Life and breath does flow.

Woe that I would ponder,

any less the you.

And give my adoration,

where it wasn't worthy due.

Oh gratuitous mercy,

how painfully unfair.

That in your HOLY goodness 

my sin you would bear.

~Daniel

Man of Arms

 

Man of Arms  

{a fathers day poem}

{to Gary Ramer my father}

Broad and gleaming, two edged steel,

Gold leaf index worn to peel.

There he sits before the day,

slow to speak with much to say.

Battle weary page unfurled,

reading of another world.

Just an old man, coffee and a book,

until you take a closer look.

A Man in motion, yet still anon,

holy praying before the dawn.

Father fixed fast to fray,

a wartime hero in every way.

He's a Soldier, have you not heard?

He wields with grace the Holy WORD.

Thank you Pa

~Daniel

THIS is WAR

THIS is WAR

Bleeding wounded, solemn slave,

Pallid prisoner, hungry grave.

Brother, sister, refugee.

Bound to darkness, blind are we.

Bodies broken, battle scarred,

Chained in iron, bruised and marred.

Are we just abandoned here?

All alone to ferment fear?

Spoils of a treason war?

Foreigners on this lonely shore?

Forsook, forgot... what for?

Dear comrade,

there is so much more! 

Take heart your not alone!

There is a splint to set that bone.

A hammer to unfetter you,

A bolt of light that cuts straight through!

GET UP! 

We're still at WAR!

The fight and fray is at the door,

The enemy is close at hand,

Your heart is not his captive land! 

Surrender is not what soldiers do.

Death has not Conquered you!

You are free! now take your stand!

Trust The Servant in command!

His victory is a Perfect plan!

Writ long before you were born,

He knew your weakness, and your thorn.

Hear the thrum and turmult sound! 

Here there is no neutral ground.

You are His or you are not,

but for sure. not, forgot!

inspired by Mark Driscoll, Mars Hill, (Ephesians 6:10-24), "I am Victorious" & John Piper, Desiring God, (Romans 7:14–25)   "Who Is This Divided Man?"

~Daniel

Nest Nascent

Nest Nascent

(A Mothers day poem)

((For my Mom))

Borrowed breath of brand new life.

Poured out love in labored strife.

Weary warrior of whispered nights.

Nursing long to faint night-lights.

Harking healer of tearful cries.

Dancing muse of lullabies.

Tender arms, firm in hand.

Held in place to help me stand.

A fixed firm tree in a broken land.

Teacher true who taught to seek.

Lips I learned from how to speak.

Encouraged me to step and walk.

The ears that long to hear me talk.

Selfless servant like no other,

marci.

Daughter, sister, Woman, mother.

~Daniel

coup de grâce

coup de grâce

Oh woe that I would do my damnedest, pull these bootstraps high and hard.

Dig my way out (even deeper), shovel debt from inch to yard.

Oh dread is me that in my pride,  I might drink my just deserve.

And in my lowly merit may, look to self as soul's preserve.

Oh what a weighty burden what lofty wanton stack,

What a wretched kindle pile double high upon my back.

Oh how the potters field gapes wide with hunger night and day,

And for a million lifetimes toil,  I could not hope to fully pay.

But you say "Son put that shovel down I will take the load from you.

I paid complete what you owe, there is nothing more to do,

It is finished! past present future full."

I say, "I don't deserve..." And you reply "I know."

~Daniel

Immortal in Memoriam

Immortal in Memoriam

Supple winsome tender,

Shaded umbra slender.

Dancing sylvan whisper,

Glimpsing just a sliver.

Crowned in Autem, clothed in Spring,

Writhed in mirth like unsung wing. 

Naiad, nymph of rivers clear,

Daughter as the graceful deer,

What fen and ford do you take flight?

What arbored pass would you delight?

Were I to learn your right full name,

Beguiled I'd be all the same.

Parched to hear your thoughts that hide,

On aura's breeze and woodlands wide.

Drunk to drink in knowing you,

Enchanted til my life is due.

~Daniel

on fate & PROVIDENCE

on fate & PROVIDENCE  

To what logician's ascribe and magician's contrive,
I bare no mark.

To the lofty heights, of metaphysician's geist,
I dare not embark. 

But in these two days, and in many ways,
I duly cannot expound.

A clear strange thing came to pass, though through dim lit glass,
a whisper of truth was found.

Now as to my humble estate, I am weary of this thing called (Fate),
of Witch' of Wyrd' and woven webs.

But as for me, and my destiny...
in foreknowing hands is lain.

At mercies' brink, in blood scrawled ink,
of the "Book of the Lamb that was Slain.

The hammer, wood and nail, should paint my fitting tale,
one of Justice in bitter fire.

Yet beyond where our minds can grasp, before time was cast,
in love God conspired. 

To whatever my end, be it betrayal by a friend,
or being cut down by the sword.

I pray one thing remain, the faith to proclaim,
that Jesus Christ is LORD. 

~Daniel