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Daniel Long Dec 2018
Much madness
is divinest sense –

An eye that hath discerned the severest madness,
according to Emily’s judicious eyes, hath much sense –

The starker lunacy
be equated to divinity –

‘Tis common, unwritten law that we assent common beliefs
And ‘tis uncommon beliefs that common law demurs –

In this, as all overcome,
The stoic few as she will come –

Sanity hath common sanction
Or, you’re forthwith a risk –

Touched by a chain
And bound in shame –
A  tribute to the famous poet Emily Dickinson. I chose the poem "Much Madness is Divinest Sense," authored by her. You will find references to the original piece, but I put my own little wordplay on it with rhyming. Enjoy!
Daniel Long Dec 2018
Mirrors within your eyes…
Stare tranquilly in ice.
Those fog risen lids…
stilled moments echoing.

Frozen they are…
seasoning affection
nowhere near
to thaw tearcicles.
my poetry/short story website:
Daniel Long Dec 2018
An hour for evil to be smite.
The fallen angel said: let there be night!
And God said: let there be light!

Tis’ the hour of His birth,
And the time of our rebirth.
Oh, believers of the heavens,
Tis’ the hour of your redemptions!

To within our souls,
God has sloped his hands over Heaven’s grassy knolls
To cleanse the ink of sin
That too many of our free-wills are stained within.

On the eve of His birth
And the time of our prayer for rebirth,
All the peoples of the Faith dance in spirit,
So, tis’ the night our Lord shall save it!

Oh, sinners of the of the earth themselves
Best pray for their holy escape,
Redeem yourselves! Release yourselves
from Lucifer’s black cape!

The light of our Faith skewers any darkness with a holy sword,
For the newborn babe of this hour of our Lord.
As brilliant, and mighty as he will one day stoutly stand;
Leading us of the true Faith through every land!

Within a humble manger,
Over a now sanctified bed of hay,
Far from sinful danger,
The King of Kings lay.

Our Faith and Pride follow!
For those filled with sorrow.
Open your arms for the redeemer!
For a true child of God finds this not as a dreamer!

Breaking every bind between Faith and sin,
The Lord has freed the believers in the world they abode in.
We now on this night see a sinner; a slave,
But by the grace of holy-love, we now see a brother that unto us fate gave.

And for this, we are forever grateful to Him
And we shall on Christmas Eve sing his hymn.
From His birth, to His suffering, to His rebirth.
So, now tis’ the hour of His birth.

Believers die to rise,
Sinners die to have a fall so grim.
In death we rise.
In death we rise with Him!
My poetry/short story website:
Daniel Long Dec 2018
Two tear-rivers streamed in my black forest,
And sorry I could not dam it to a respite
And be it I’ve longed to change,
And parting one eyelid, as far as I could be sane
To where I tear in the rain;

Then locked the other eyelid, as just as teary,  
And quench perhaps their thirst daily,
Because it was thundery, and wanted to cry;
Though as for that within the rain I was sly,
Had falling tear-showers really be from the sinking sky?

Both these eyes to the world equally keen
In rain no tears shall be seen.
Oh, sorrowed storms hide the bursting stream!
Yet strolling my way sobbing on,
If ever should come back the sun, I’d be gone.

I should be telling this with a hesitance
But somewhere ages ago I died:
Two tear-rivers flowed in my mind,
Succumbing to one less sufferance
And that has solaced all the difference.
A sad poem.
Daniel Long Dec 2018
Nightfall has spilt its ink
staining the landscape with its morbid hue.

The moon stares and bleaches
the oily water with thousands of winks.

A mountains silhouette
carved the abysmal blue

of the nighttime horizon…
the purgatory of our sins.

The power of Gods eye
thrusts through the darkness

and the spotlight of his white iris
pierces the blackened hue that is our sins.

Satan resides deep in the oily depths
where he and his plague of followers drown in sin.

The lords light shall be visible here,
though not so brilliantly,
as Styx is dyed in a pitch tinge.

Far above the freezing, muddy floor of Styx,
the dampened air of purgatory clouded in mist;

by our Fathers starry eye.
A poem about hell.
My poetry/short story website:
Daniel Long Dec 2018
Frailly erected upon two twigs
within the hallowing walls of the dusking sun beam,
I’m encircled by the furious winds of a ******’s no-mans-land.

This land encompassing me
is one violated by its own submission
into vision-less ignorance.

I stand here,
the temptation to reach through;
exposing myself into the obscurities around me.

Is it within this light that I am being misguided?
Is it the world beyond holding the truth
from which has deceived me time and again?

There’s only one way to find my path,
be it dark and unkind, I must step out of my life
into the world that whirls in frightening speed around me.

I gaze through the purifying threshold
feeling the eyes of the nocturnal creatures
piercing from far beyond.

They know me;
they see me,
fearing what they don’t understand.

This world is too small,
I walk amongst the folks I coexist
within these cruel existences.

I gasp… my skin tightens…
I take one last look up into my dusking sun;
“I wonder how you shine in the world beyond!”
A poem about schizophrenia
Daniel Long Dec 2018
Stunned still! In spotlights
of narrow-minded illogicalities?

Your poisonous intentions
inflicted with sharpened utters of disrespect!

Of what pure breed
have you been endowed?

Leave useless judgments to your own misguidance
and me to tend my dreams!
A poem about former friends of mine.
My poetry/short story website:
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