Category: Poetry


Dog days of summer

heat burning down

enough to melt the smile

from the face of a clown

Heat waves make a visible breeze

that moves the air, runs sky to ground,

gives no relief,

and nothing makes a sound.

 

The future is uncertain

or so it seems

due to the ending and beginning of dreams

with the new dream an infant

and the old dream retired,

some senses are numb

while others are wired

beyond belief.

 

An overheated radiator smells like celery

as long as it isn’t your car,

Some things you’ve kept forever

actually look as old as you are,

Life looks better up close

than it does from afar,

Nothing tastes as good from a can

as it does from a jar,

Then the curtain falls

and time passes.

____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

 

 

Granola bars

are for people

who want to be healthy,

but cannot escape the munchies.

_____________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

Good Morning (To Cyndy)

 

Good Morning – the Love of my Life,

Even though I miss you when you are gone,

I am excited – and anxious –

To see you again.

 

Because I know that

when you walk in the door,

you will be more beautiful

than when you left.

 

You have been more beautiful

each time I have seen you

for over thirty years

And more so with each passing day.

 

My one wish is simply

That you realize –

and rest in the comfort of the fact –

that I love you – literally – more than life itself.

 

Without you, my life would have little meaning.

You are such a large part of the good parts of who I am.

Have a great day!

Love you.

_____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

The Jester and The Lady

 

Scared is a reason,

Paranoid a curse,

The two souls surviving,

jester and lady,

Through verse.

 

The jester is still hiding

What the lady has seen,

And cries in the darkness

At the mess as it’s been.

 

Line of confusion, illusion,

Harpsichord melody,

The reflection of the essence

of the things that should be.

 

The lines which evolve

from the songwriter’s pen,

are requested by the lady

again, yes, and again.

 

It is her own way of drifting,

as his is to write,

Echoes of laughter

Escort the dawn into light.

 

The lady’s words

put the truth where it stands,

While the moment is tossed

just to see where it lands.

________________________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

Mr. Dramatic Returns to the Attic

 

Mr. Dramatic

has locked himself in the attic

and won’t come out to play.

Woke up on the wrong side,

woman took his pride,

it hasn’t been a very good day.

 

He’ll go for the gusto,

he’ll go for it all,

But, for sometime,

in the meantime,

on his own time,

he’s staring at the inside of walls.

 

Mr. Dramatic has gone far away,

floating away on the tide,

of emotions, feelings, and I don’t know whys,

his mind seemed a good place to hide.

 

It gets a little harder every time

living life in pantomime,

with all the lovely ladies

in costumes at the ball.

 

He doesn’t feel any static

sitting in the attic.

As a matter of fact,

he doesn’t feel anything at all.

 

Mr. Dramatic has gone far away,

floating away on the tide,

of emotions, feelings, and I don’t know whys,

his mind seemed a good place to hide.

 

He held them when they needed holding,

consistently kept them warm;

but when he wants warmth

he must warm himself.

 

The warmth only lasts a little while,

so when he feels the warmth of a smile,

He goes back to his attic

and smiles until he cries.

______________________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

The Hinge

 

Residue of confusion,

Wayward distortion of fact,

The jester has simply

forgotten how to act.

 

It is one thing to let loose

and go on a binge.

Quite another to polish

An old, rusty hinge.

 

The one ignores the fact,

the other faces it.

Mr. Dramatic ignores it

while the jester chases it.

 

The jester just laughs,

though he doesn’t get the punchline.

Mr. Dramatic just imagines

that the hinge has a bright shine.

___________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

Static in the Attic

 

There is nothing but static

in the attic

as Mr. Dramatic stares at the sofa

that could be a bed –

but never becomes one.

 

Mr. Dramatic catches glimpses

in the reflecting mirror,

as the vision appears in the

lost dream of the lover

who once held a friend.

 

Mr. Dramatic remains the victor

of the game never played,

and the leader, reflectively,

of a plan not made, foundations not laid,

a great debt not paid…

 

…to oneself amid the static

in the attic,

as Mr. Dramatic stares from the sofa

that could be a bed –

but never becomes one.

____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

A couple who are friends of mine had their house burn down recently. As a result, I have been flashing back to when our house burned the Friday before I began my senior year in high school on Monday.

The firemen saved a lot of things, but my room was a pile of ashes in the back yard. I came home from a night of drinking the coldest beer I’ve ever had. Ice formed in the mug of beer. When Brian and I got to my street, we couldn’t get to the house. We had to park a block over.

Mom and my brother, Dennis, stood in the yard across the street with our dog, Lady. I joined them and watched as flames tore through what had previously been my bedroom. Someone behind me asked out loud if “anyone had marshmallows.” I went ballistic and let them know what an asinine thing it was to say.

I got more clothes and things to replace things that were in my room. But there are things you cannot simply replace. To this day, I sometimes think of things as if I still have them and realize they burned in the fire.

And that was bad. I was chastised on Monday because I didn’t have a pencil. In the apartment we rented while the house was rebuilt, I heard Imagine, which was still on the charts. I heard the line, “imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can.” I suddenly realized I could.

But I got more possessions, and added to them over the years. As bad as it was, I can’t imagine it happening today. But wait, not quite true. Mike and Cindy Freiley lost everything recently. To lose everything I have now would be devastating. I would get through it. I’ve done it before. But it hurts.

If you would like to help Mike and Cindy, here is the gofundme link.

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

 

Stillness in the Morning

 

There’s a stillness in the morning,

scaring the man to death,

a sigh, a cup of coffee,

then an intake of breath.

 

The songs they sang

keep coming back,

with no sound in the room,

the cool change finally came,

albeit a little too soon.

 

The painting is not completed yet,

when sensible he knows it is true,

but when he looks upon the walls,

the colors change their hue.

 

He’ll deal with it as always,

having been through worse before,

but he would like to see the woman

upon opening the door.

 

The jester gets carried away sometimes

when handling himself,

like trying to hold your pants up

when you haven’t got a belt.

 

He’ll get a little better

when his intensity is felt,

but, meanwhile….

 

There’s a stillness in the morning

scaring the man to death,

a sigh, a cup of coffee,

then intake of breath.

____________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

 

Mr. Dramatic and Modern Day Man

 

Who knows what is in store

for the modern day man.

Who strives to be normal

without knowing what that means.

 

What will come back to

the one who is poor from helping?

What hand will lay upon

his shoulder when his cries?

 

When will the peace come

of any kind at all?

When Mr. Dramatic makes an exit,

without a dramatic fall.

 

Where will the feeling start,

the beginning of great relief,

Where will the feeling end

with shaking of firm belief?

 

Why are those who do not know

the first to criticize?

Why does the collective voice of humanity

sound like a baby’s cries?

 

How? Is the biggest question

and the hardest one to answer.

How can you see the soul of the dance

without understanding the dancer.

Indeed.

____________________________________________________________

Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.

Peace be with you.

paypal.me/danroark

 

 

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