The Maiden and the Derelict Ship

In the glaring of the sea, I saw a derelict,
Floating lost and silently, spinning an aimless pirouette.
Then on my side, upon the shore of the shining sea,
Standing like a stone alone, a maiden wept there quietly.

She pointed to the waves and swayed with the melancholy dance,
Twas a strange circuitous waltz I saw, a kind of sad romance;
And it filled her curious mind with thoughtful reverie,
Of all the things she'd lost or found, and what she kept she'd set free.

Kneeling on the glittering shore, where her castles made of sand,
Once stood proud with ramparts high to defy the Tide's command.
She scooped the remnants with both hands, the ruins made by waves,
With eternal might and strength, it's subtle surf pervades.

Then lifting her eyes to the heavens, she watched the leaden drifts
Form across the ominous sky, the dark clouds deep and swift.
The cerulean sky and the white clouds, now frocked in mantels grey and black,
Dressed as if in mourning for the Sun's gay rays that now held back.

Gentle tears escaped the corner's and down the young girl's face,
Pining for the derelict that had sailed once with proud, high grace;
Pled she to the gods and Fates to give her rest at last,
And moor beneath the briny waves, where peace will hold it sure and fast,
To the shelter it may find, swaying in the trackless face,
Deep below the waves it sails in it's splendid former grace.

So with a child's simple faith, she waited patiently,
In her youthful expectation of all life's possibilities.
The Master of the ship's design was flawless and each detail met,
Using only finest teak and oak from keel to mast was set.

Desires and dreams may find disaster, while we hope it naught
That fears will make it fall the faster, wasting what's been wrought.
Thus the maiden slowly turned from the ruthless restless waves,
And rose the swells above the masts amain to her watery grave.

Feeling a kindred spirit to the derelict ship's final fate,
She turned and headed back to home, for it was getting late.
She wondered if a lesson some how could be gleaned from this?
But she was just a child, she thought, and thus all was dismissed.

Danielle LaReaux/Daniel Thomas Roe©2006

The Death of Ægeus

(or The Tragedy of Theseus)

He sat and watched the rising sun
Come from the ocean blue,
When a sailing ship's silhouette
Caught his eyeing view.
Excited with anticipation,
The dark prowed ship drew nigh;
He hoped the gods had grace upon
His sorrowing soul, or let him die.
He prayed goodtidings Rosey-fingered
Dawn that arc'd the morning skies,
Would bring to him and be his meed:
"If my son still lives, a white sail flies!"

In the bowels of the dark prowed ship,
Sick from love sat alone his son;
The white sail in the hollow hull,
Left he in grief, forgot, unflung.

As the father watched his heart beat faster,
The black sail whipped through lusty wind:
"This token sign tells me disaster,
For my son will not come home again!"

As the ship to port his sad eyes followed,
Thought he bereft of his dear son;
From off the cliff, the wine sea swallowed,
As he lept it's height and fell head long.

Sorrow upon sorrow, for portentous fate
Had snatched the two he loved away:
The first forgot and left asleep,
The other dead for a token's display.

Daniel Thomas Roe©1996

Vivian with the Smokey Grey Eyes

A little girl with smokey eyes;
As bright and clear as morning skies.
And golden hair, wild with wavy locks
That dance a flutter in the breeze like flocks
Of gambolling lambs 'neath the trusting gaze
Of the Shepard's eyes watchful eye unfazed:
Comforts each lamb, each one he'd raised
As though his child, born in his arms,
Asleep, secure and kept from harm.

Whether day or night: awake or asleep,
He keeps them safe within his deep
Love where fear is stayed
(Though in this dreadful world we are betrayed.)
But, child, one day Christ will come on the clouds;
He'll come and take us from here with a loud shout
From heaven, where no evil can live
To stain our thoughts; our soul the Devil sieves.

In that place no evil will pursue
Us to the Mansion prepared for me and you.

Daniel Thomas Roe aka Danielle LaReaux aka Daniel Gary Roe, copyright 2007

Perhaps

I look beyond my panning view,
that once made up my impressions and dreams.
A romantic with wide spectrum's the hue
Of what other dreamers with visions unseen.
Along with a million sad souls,
Who have lived side by side
With their Monsters and demons within:
In symbiotic coexistence,
There to live or die,
Drawing strength from one another's sins.

(O mitigate these unpalliated pains
That I might draw strength from you, God!)

And learn to live again?
That the scathing of Bakkus's sweet dram,
And the fragrance of nepenthe's,
No longer tempt my throbbing mind?

Ah, bitterness the shattered keel,
And fear the useless rudder;
I am an aimless ship adrift on a sea, carried along
On currents of emotion.

Whither I go? I do not know!
But all my strength is sapped from me,
Now flowing into the gutter.

(And, O how I wish for one bye gone day of devotion and faith!)

"But," I say, "perhaps safe harbor
Lies up ahead? A secure mooring;
A port of joy!"

Or perhaps," say I,
To me self in reply,
"A reef of crags lay hid in the dark,
And the sweet sound of the Siren's luring!?"

Aye, Seemed simpler in ages ago
When men rejoiced in their labors;
Not merely to feed on some grand repast,
Neither to fill up with idle pleasures.
For what hope is left to a selfish narcissistic world,
Where even the blessings of God go unheeded
As some oddity of the past?
For there are nobler men, and more devout than me,
Have I missed the mark of the fruition of my love, my labors,
Mistaking affluence for God's blessing?

Though not comfort can be drawn from such reflection,
Yet my critique of men holy or profane
Is seen through a poet's natural eye:
It's the helplessness of man's bane for which I weep.

Perhaps this prophet's soul;
This poet's heart is poisoned by self-loathing?
Perhaps I should stop, to sow love,
And then reap a harvest growing?

Aye, perhaps, perhaps!

Perhaps there is still some elusive hope
That I may snare and have peace anon:
Perhaps I find it?
Will I even know it,
This illusive apparition I seek to find?

(O to taste the sweet persimmons
That grow among the lilac and the palmettos;
To hear the lonely sound of the Hermit Thrush,
Carried along the breeze, through the trees,
The Oak and the Ash!
Or the babbling brook in the Spring
As the last vestiges of winter is cast off,
And warmed by the rays of the Sun.
And the Black-eyed Susan, sprouting with a
Rejoicing all her own to her creator,
There where she makes her bed
Among the lilies and the wild flowers,
In the meadow beneath the cerulean sky
By the whispering Wood)

But here I stand in my melancholy,
Wooed and swayed with my impatient demands.

And what shall I choose?
To die a poet with feigned immortality,
Or live a life of obscurity?

Daughter of the Autumn

She sat alone in structures stone,
Peering thru one portal 'lone.
At her canvassed panning view.
She thought across her fading scape,
Of plush greens
To flaming sence,
Yellow, reds a mix of every shade:
But her moments were few.

Long she waited patiently
For here gift of creativeity
To perform,
And adorn
From her nimble hands, as each stroke
From her brush would provoke
The admiration of the North Breese.

Daughter of the Autumn gust
Had turned your color into dust!

Dani LaReaux aka Daniel Gary Roe akaDaniel Thomas Roe copyright 1998

Ode to the Summer

The sultry, sighing signs of Summer,
Season so superbly wistful,
Sings as youth, so restive, eagar;
Who runs thru fields in bliss and vigor-
Until daytime's closing hour.

Capture you the storm clouds coming,
Release the south Wind from her moorimng;
Ambassador of the Summer, quiet
All the tumult and the riot
That the restless sky is up-drumming?

Sweet fruit's succulent in summer,
Teaser of the tingling tastebuds,
Quaff and eat refreshment cool,
Each plump piece, t'is a jewel:
Gift from god's hand, filled with wonder.

Summer's bright cascading,
From the deeprocks; her laughter rising,
Yet mischief sparkles from bright sockets--
With eye's playful, her wit undaunted;
(Eyes of clever, wit sometimes flaunted!)
Summer ends; youth is never fading.

Spring

The ides of March had passed, and April Showers
That fall, brings life, revives that earth again:
Bees gather pollen to make thier honey from flowers,
When a choral erupts from thrush, and sparrow, and wren!
Tree blossom's bloom, then upward rising, they're sending
Thier sweet aroma, mingling thick in the air,
As the prayers of saints to heaven's Thorn, Accending,
Refreshes woods that long Winter's siege stripped bare!
Birds flying north from southern capes and glades,
Where they all hid while long, cold Winter had clung,
And return to homes they've held as their's past age,
To mate and rear another brood of young:
As the welcome signs of Spring pervades,
The spiral of life through weal and woe go on.

Danielle LaReaux/aka Daniiel Gary Roe copyright1998

Winter's Symphony

In the still resplendence of the silent city street,
A shroud of snow lies undisturbed, while Earth beneath is fast asleep.
The crisp East Wind drives her crysal frost o'er my window pane,
Each one unique, indistinct, like diamonds set in gilded chains.

And the radiantly bright stars, dancing thru the cobalt sky;
Snowflakes whirl a pirouette, with heaves of such a melodious sigh!
The warm refulgence of the lamp, glowing dimly through the house:
Un'afeared of the blustery Winter's rampage, when aroused!
Intemperate is the Northeast Wind, whose call to arms alarms us all,
But Auster with her temper sweet, calms the beast; disarms us all.

While the shades of night recede into the dawn, the sullen sky,
It's greeted by the solstice sphere (a welcome friend, vaguely nigh)
And the warming of her rays, off Majestic Robes of White!
Removes from Ea, her rainment fair, revealing her naked form. Aright
And lithe she moves and sways to his blasting symphony;
Bringing to a bright crescendo: So comes Mid-Season's harmonies.

Yet the Northwest Miscreant will have his way!
Over the soft melodic movements of her sway: His rage demands display.
Until Auster kiss,s the fridged mouth (the South Wind becomes a symphony,)
And Winters cold cacaphony, becomes a hushed passing dream.

Danielle LaReaux aka Daniel Gary Roe copyright 3/11/98

Juenesse Doree

The guilded morning's
first light fell across
the placid lake,
Where through the mist
that lightly hung,
a torpid breeze
sedate,
Stirred the live oaks
where the moss
That swayed like cobweds,
homes long lost,
(Like a dreamer's fears
that all him of his
dreams had cost)
His will to live within
the die he cast that's
now become his fate.

The gilded youth of vernal
Spring's first starlight
pierced the sky,
Her sisters like a billion
sparks, of the velvet
welken's eye,
Grew as dusk faded to black,
And vanishing clouds depart
their golden flax;
Reflecting the full
moon's knack:
Imperfect light illuming
with a soft elusive
flirting sigh.

The humid cloak of
vaporous mist rising
from the sheen
Of a vitriolic surface
of an angry lake,
though placid and serene!
Plunged my heart into
its depths of waters black,

But with odd comfort bade to me:
Thy youth shall not come back.
Twas a gilded youth
that I thought I lacked.

Church Windows

The pictured panes of passions played up-gleaming,
Above dim walls in sunlight, moonlight streaming
Silently portrays kind mercy's teaching
The wonders of God's grace to mankind reaching.
In toils and tears great drops of blood Him sweating,
The path Golgotha to Him not forgetting.
In holy quiet the patron supplicating,
While follow eyes with each pane's recreating
Each dreadful scene that purged sin's derelication
By His willing love to death and Resurrection.
Like windows stained, His blood stained every part
Of each prostate sinner with a willing heart.
Then light falls dimly and the shadows grow:
Breathe deep the holy silence—revive the weary soul.

Daniel Thomas Reaux copyright 1995

Angel's Laugh/Danielle LaReaux

Listening to the chatter of the rain,
How oft I long to hear my angel laugh,
The laugh that takes my dour world's pain,
Dimming the sadness with cheerful graft.
Your smile, your laugh reminds me of another,
She my darling child, my second daughter,
Who's strong will and who's determined heart,
Had shaped those things I 've love of your mother.
She's the sentinel who stands vigil guard
O're you that your cherub laugh will never fade,
Nor your bright star to ever a moment wane
From those who'll love you through life's light and shade
Of doubt and fear, those illusions that may cause you pain.

Now that your first year has come to its end,
Time the second shall begin.
To Chelsea Erin Hamm, my granddaughter, on her fisrt birthday.12/1/o5