Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
17.3k · Apr 2014
Longing
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
If I could be beside you in this moment
I'd gather all the stars suspended over California
and shove them in a bottle
that they would cast a gentle glow
to bathe our bodies as we lie
asleep, arms entangled with ourselves
blissful lips within each other's reach
hearts beating synchronized, harmonizing,
adding to the euphony of euphoria,
the anthem of togetherness.
Lately I'm caught between posting my work and watching it get lost in a flood of things that matter, or keeping it to myself. I think I've split it fairly 50/50. But hey, things are looking up, so that's nice.
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
A final inhalation, farewell to oxygen
submitting to oblivion
a conscious lack of everything.
The very absence of air, sickening and
desolate, destitute, despairing
tearing at my aching lungs,
my vacant mind.
Call me a vagabond, a wanderer
entrapped in the extrasensory.

My breath escapes. 

The empty core within myself rings in tune with the extant and extinct.
Neck arching, mouth agape
a single note transcends my lips of stone
unadulterated, unwavering, a melodious sound 
building and joining in harmony to create a symphony of
life, of
death, of
everything we cannot comprehend. 
Sonorous and assonant
my soul cries out
at ever-growing volumes.
My eyes begin to flicker and fade away.

God, can You hear my screams in space
in this vacuum, void of sound?
The final thoughts of an astronaut removing his helmet while in space. Inspired by and written to a track called Suicide by Star by post-rock group God is an Astronaut. The band name, oddly enough, didn't influence this poem at all. Didn't think of it. Seems fitting, though. Check it out.

I think I'm gonna be off HP for a little while, but I'll definitely be back. Just not feeling super inspired lately. This has been a great community and I've truly enjoyed it, though. Thanks to all of you, especially Daniel Lockerbie. You are a rad man.

Farewell, friends! Until next time! (which, knowing me, won't be long).
6.7k · May 2014
Cynical Romantic
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
Love is a public hanging.
I build a beautiful platform
with eloquence
***** the instrument of my demise.

Fully conscious of my impending end
wrap the rope around my throat
she screams the guilty verdict
and soon I dangle,
twitching in the desert breeze.

I'm an immortal criminal, and I never learn,
a perpetual repeat offender.
I’ll soon be swinging from the gallows once again…
it's just a matter of time.
Everything I build seems to fall apart...
Hence begins the transition from
the hopeless romantic
to
the sadly jaded cynic,
the ******-off lovelorn pessimist.
3.1k · Jun 2014
Lady of the Lake
Daniel Samuelson Jun 2014
The legends won't tell
of Arthur when he fell in love
when he swooned for the arm that held Excalibur
extended out to him
how he did a double take
and stuttered and gawked
at the simple beauty of her flawless freckled skin.

And in this moment
I behold the Lady of the Lake
her divine completeness:
holy and whole.
Elegant sloping shoulders
a regal neckline pleading to be united
with loving lips
in an everlasting caress.
Water droplets dripping from her form--
reluctant,
wishing they could reverse the laws of nature
fall up from the surface
to bead and cling to skin again--
desiring to be as close as we
as she entrances me with emerald eyes
rivers of red hair
enchanting lips that know no equal.

She's won me over
and she drags me under
below the water
beneath the lapping waves.
The ripples on the surface
echo my farewell to the world.
Not entirely sure what birthed this. I mean sure, I have a redhead thing. But the Arthurian element is something I don't often contemplate. The musings of a tired mind, I guess.
2.8k · Apr 2014
Self-Portrait
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
Daughter of a rocket scientist 
son of a nuclear engineer
and they begat a son

a boy
too starry-eyed to question the stars—
the way they hang in space, the fusion
that keeps them burning brightly,
or how to launch an object past them—
more concerned with the constellations
of perfect freckles found on his beloved's shoulders

a boy 
too enthralled with Existence
and describing it in artful words
to contemplate its composition
or to ponder Existence's place
on Other Worlds

a boy 
enraptured with the Changing of the Seasons—
photosynthesis and 
chloroplasts and 
planetary tilt?
Irrelevant

a boy 
who'd rather write of Love
than consider its chemical makeup
or wonder how or why it is
who'd prefer to write of leaves
dancing spirals in the breeze 
than aerodynamics and 
air resistance and
gravitational pull

a boy 
who sometimes stops 
and only ponders Science
concerning his Genetics
and wonders where it all was lost.
I often joke about my inability in math and science and with regards to my brilliant grandfathers... And I do wonder to where the brains went. No matter. Maybe it's a recessive or silent gene and maybe I'll have genius kids. *Fingers crossed hopefully*
1.9k · Jan 2014
Anchor
Daniel Samuelson Jan 2014
You told me once I was an anchor for your soul, and I thought it poetry
That I would keep you steady and safe in the seas of everyday
And be forever held against your starboard side.

But how useful is an anchor to a vagabond?
It binds him to his place when he desires anything but to be stationary
And holds him back and burdens him as he goes about his daily life.

How useful is an anchor to a sinking ship?
Already slipping past the surface, the extra weight serving not a purpose
But to drag it to demise at a more accelerated rate.

How useful is an anchor to an aging sailor?
It only serves to remind him of ferocious storms, and perished comrades,
And countless years he spent and lost at sea.

How useful is an anchor to a roaming heart?
And of what benefit am I to you?
1.8k · Jun 2014
On Houseflies and Loneliness
Daniel Samuelson Jun 2014
Like a fly trapped inside a house
endlessly buzzing in solitude
beating and
bumping and
banging on the glass
straining for escape
seeing a world more beautiful
and so much less alone,
I hurl myself at pretty girls
longing to find a love
like once I had...

But in the end
It's just my loneliness and me,
and hitting my head against a wall.
This sounds so complainy, I'm tempted to apologize. It's just a comparison that popped into my head when a giant flying beetle ran into the glass door during a late dinner tonight. But forreal it sounded like someone knocking. Sketch. I'm rambling. Goodnight, HP.
1.8k · Jan 2014
Tundra
Daniel Samuelson Jan 2014
As the flowers bow their heavy heads at the cusp of early winter,
In such a way do I withdraw, as freezing rains begin to fall.
When the dew becomes the frost, summer's grass recedes into the earth.
So do I surrender, stumble, and finally retreat within myself.
When the rain begins to pour upon the sand, it seeps between the grains and soaks into the ground
And in this way, my musings dissolve into the ocean of my mind.
The leaves of trees have long since fallen, trodden underfoot
As have my aspirations, love, and longing for the warmth.
Budding bushes, noting winter's cue, fall into their dormancy
As I close my eyes, let out a sigh, and lurch into a snowy sleep.
This sounds a little glum, but in all actuality I love winter and snow. In fact, if it wasn't 1:45 AM and I didn't have a cold I'd be sledding in it right now.
1.7k · May 2014
Sparks Fly
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
Two poets, hopelessly romantic
hearts and minds ablaze
and their love like a fireworks show:
brilliant and bright and beautiful and

     brief.
You'd think I'd learn sometime.
1.6k · Jan 2014
Dreams
Daniel Samuelson Jan 2014
Every time I catch a glimpse of you
My heart just comes unglued
And all I hear is an echoing
“You'll never be enough for me.”

I’ve heard your flirty stories
Of empty kisses and their glories
And it makes me wish I had the same,
That I could love another and feel no shame.

I’m happy that you’ve found felicity
In the hearts of many boys, consistently.
And me? I feel I’ll be alone for quite a while
And I’ll not be causing any blushful smiles.

But... c’est la vie, you see.

As you always play it coy
As you jump from boy to boy
Do you search for glimpses of me
As I look for you in everyone I see?

Love, I hope your dreams are coming true.
And mine as well? Oh, mine are too.
Every nightmare that’s ever crossed my mind
Has reared its ****** head and come to life.
1.5k · Aug 2014
The Rhythm (I Do)
Daniel Samuelson Aug 2014
Every needle in the wind-whipped pines whispers out a soft "I do"
and the daisies dancing in their grassy ballrooms
"I do, I do, I do"
and the cardinals crowned with Christmas snow
chirping their identical
"I do."
Resonating through the trees and channeled through the earth
in places where the sun shines red
and stars shimmer through the waking hours
"I do."
Perhaps one day
our hearts and lips conform to the rhythm
as we whisper with transparent eyes
"I do,
I do."
I'd like to be anywhere as long as it's with you.
1.4k · Jun 2014
Falling in Love (An Excerpt)
Daniel Samuelson Jun 2014
The breaking light of day danced
in deep blue fissures in her eyes
mimicking the ocean before her,
sunlight glinting off of flecks of gold
as he longed to be the subject of her gaze.
He saw the way the rising Atlantic sun
     kissed
         her
            freckled
               face,
and in that moment
he knew he wanted nothing more
than to kiss her in that way
every sacred morning
for the rest of his life.
I've decided finally to try and write a book. This is an excerpt from said book, poetically adapted. I edited words and spastically pressed the enter key and space bar to make it look less prose-y. Wish me luck in writing! It's obviously not an overnight thing but hey.
Thanks for reading.
1.4k · Apr 2015
Dear Dancer
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2015
Dear dancer,
behold
a much-belated birthday gift,
an elegy, apology.
I drove 3000 miles west last week
pursuing every single sunset
the way I once chased after you
and... I'm sorry.

Dear dancer, you are a tree.
How wrong to think your shade was made for me.
Leaves and blooming branches
stretched towards the sky,
floating petals dancing in the
wayward air,
roots deep beneath the grassy earth...
How wrong to think your shade was made for me.

To me
you'll always be the dancer,
ballerina, book lover,
pirouettes and paper cuts
and piano strings.
I'm sure you make them sing like
symphonies.
To me,
you'll always have your place,
framed against sunsets,
nostalgic memories.
To me,
you'll always have that blushing grin.
Sometimes I'll imagine you in coffee shops,
and I still have that mason jar of ocean sand.

Dear dancer,
I'd be remiss if I didn't give you thanks.
You may not know,
but
you saved me from depression.
You saved me from myself.
You showed me what it's like
to smile,
to smile from the heart,
and you taught me freedom once again.  

Here it is,
an elegy, apology,
one last poem for you.
Happy birthday, dear dancer.
Happy birthday.
Writing for closure.
1.4k · Jul 2013
A Slow Dance
Daniel Samuelson Jul 2013
Do we dance to this song 
After we've said our vows and I do's?
Will you hold me close
In your white wedding dress
And stare into my eyes
As they brim, beholding you?
The melody waltzes on.
Is this our farewell, 
Departure and heartbreak in 12/8 time?
Will we say our last goodbye
As different tears fill my eyes?
The melody waltzes on. 
Will I crumble inside 
When its haunting soundscape 
And splashing cymbals come to mind
And I remember what I had?
The melody waltzes on. 
Somehow I can't discern
Whether the rhythm is truly made for dancing;
It mimics a runner's perfect pace. 
Are we running away or toward each other?
The melody waltzes on. 
Is it a rendezvous or a cry of surrender?
Is it me bending down on a knee
Or hanging my head in defeat?
Is it everything I've wanted
Or what I have when all is gone?
The melody waltzes on.
Written as ekphrastic poetry (meaning it accompanies a work of art). This poem was inspired by (and written to) "A Slow Dance" by instrumental group Explosions in the Sky.
It gives the poem more meaning if you listen for a bit and read it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RDZ4ZFP1jE
Thanks! =)
1.4k · Nov 2014
Autumn
Daniel Samuelson Nov 2014
The paratrooper
clad in chlorophyllic green
stoic in resolve he leaps
jettisoned from lofty perch
spiraling in space
tumbling through time.
Airborne
born into the air
delivered to the dirt
he dies, decomposes
a casualty of consequence
body brown and rotting in the rain.

Wars are waged and seasons change
and the world spins on in spite of all.
So it's more like winter now, at least here at school. The first snow happened on Sunday, and another comes tonight. I wrote this a little over a month ago as the leaves began to fall and decided I ought to post it to make it seem like I'm not completely in a dry season for writing (Spoiler Alert: I am). But here. =)
1.3k · Feb 2016
Plagiarist/Mockingbird
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2016
The mockingbird in arbored sanctum
rehearses his newest musing
an addition to his lifelong
plagiaristic monologue

satisfied,
he ***** into the chaparral
to declaim his litany to
anything with ears.
1.3k · Sep 2017
anxiety
Daniel Samuelson Sep 2017
Imagine yourself
a linear expression of experience,
a long strip of film like
the kind in old projectors with the
sepiatic sputters and flickers--
yes! Imagine yourself a strip of film but
rolled up messily like
the earbuds in your pocket or
folding fitted bedsheets.
You are a movie and the filmstrip endpiece lies at your feet,
you are knots and coils and tangles and
if you were to lie down at the top of this mountain for a moment--just a moment!--perhaps
the wind would catch the loops of film and
you would feel yourself
unravel.
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
You breathe your salty sobs into my neck
each teary breath against my flesh
creating chills
not unlike the ones your kisses used to cause.
But, this is it.
Goodbye, farewell. You'll be something
for someone else, and I'll likely stay the same.
I can tell you're running out of somedays
and I can't bear to watch me break your heart...

Darling, I'm a natural disaster
so pack your bags and save yourself...
save yourself for someone who deserves you.
I've been largely inactive and uninspired for a while due to final exams, and consequently I missed out on 1200 or so brilliant poems and works of art in my feed... ******.
Stay inspired, friends. I love reading what you have to say. =)
1.2k · Feb 2014
Progress, Perhaps
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2014
Finally, I took your pictures down
The ones that hung above my desk and haunted me
Reminding me of better days when I had all I ever wanted,
When you would look me in the eyes and I'd desire nothing more...
When our intertwined fingers were my definition of perfection...

But why should I keep our sentimental moments front and center in my view 
When you've already burned the memories and scattered the ashes in the sea?

Too often I find my lovesick nostalgia suffocating me while I stare into your pretty Polaroid face.
So, I stuffed our every photo in the back side of a picture frame--
--a photo booth at senior prom, our graduation, a smiling push on a swing,
A black-and-white of holding hands, walking away, heads cast down but eyes lit bright--
--and I shoved them in a box, hoping that my mind will someday follow suit.
I have learned I need to let you go
Even though I never want to lose you.

*Update*: My best friend/roommate put up pictures of himself making faces and eating pizza in the empty spaces that her pictures once occupied. He's the best.
1.2k · May 2014
Tornado Warning (Swept Away)
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
As I fall for you, I begin to wonder:
Why am I so swept away? 
       A man should just be
            the "heartless" one
                unaffected by
           presence
   absence
love
  or
  loss.
Meh.
Inspiration? A lovelorn heart and this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rsv9nUmSyrI
1.2k · Jul 2014
Holding You
Daniel Samuelson Jul 2014
All creation seems to cease
     we lie beside
With hearts like houses
     next-door neighbors
Hands like envelopes
     folded tight and sealed
Lips like long lost lovers
     blissful, close and warm
Love like a thousand red balloons
     high above the earth, ready to explode.
1.1k · Jun 2014
You Had Me At...
Daniel Samuelson Jun 2014
Hello.
I'll not bother with the trivialities.
I'll forgo the lingering, longing stares
nix the stuttered words and long-departed trains of thought
skip the goofy, giddy smiles and tangential conversations
and I'll never utter the words,
"I think you're truly beautiful"
because you are,
and because you are
you've heard it all before.
Late night histrionics have got the better of me and my mind, and out came words. Briefly breaking my hiatus. I'll be back now and then and again but life is kind of not conducive to writing or thought at the moment. Not cool. Ah, well. Hope you all are doing fantastically. =)
1.1k · Apr 2014
2500 Miles, Pt. II
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
Say I burned and spurned and left you on your own
but in this moment, just before you cast your stone
remember, it was you who said "I want to be alone."
So, darling, play the victim as you please.
You said you wanted a reprieve...
all I did was provide you with the means.
Happy Easter, HP!!

You can find part one here:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/478852/2500-miles/
1.1k · Feb 2014
Liv
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2014
Liv
A faraway look in your rapid-blinking eyes
As you search the ceiling for memories of him
The way you dart them back and forth
As you reminisce with mouth agape

A faint remembering grin that longs for his
And you fiddle with your fingers
Like a little girl with a darling crush
And every detail of his heart and mind
Pours past your smiling lips
With a longing for the past and a wishing for the future.
Wrote this in a couple minutes as I watched my friend describe to me a boy she once loved. Thought it was a beautiful moment, so I attempted to capture it.
1.1k · Mar 2014
Santa Margarita
Daniel Samuelson Mar 2014
A screaming pierces the serenity of the river valley.
Overturned wreck of a car and splattered, shattered, scattered glass.
A fresh-cut gouge in the dirt embankment where he clipped it
and in retaliation it flipped him on his roof. 
He staggers from the chaos
moaning not from pain, but from the Jaeger, Keystone, and regret
of totaling his mother's car. 
He flees the scene with his homies, his fellow drunken cronies
and the witnesses are left behind, scratching heads and raising brows. 
I among them contemplate the carnage
and I try remembering a different time, ten years ago or so...

This place used to be so beautiful
before the partiers and potheads and Varrio Locos took it over. 
Shallow waters filled with algae drifts and interspersed with boulder bridges. 
Sandy beaches, nature trails, wild grapes, and fishing holes. 
The last free-flowing, undammed, undamned river in the state...
Now it's bloated with beer and blood and bad decisions. 
Not a bare rock face remains, each one caked up in graffiti makeup. 
And the air, once frequented by the heady scent of sycamore
is far too thick with marijuana anymore.
Santa Margarita, choking on smoke and dope and disrespect,
once my heart and home and refuge, now and forever a cheapened wasteland.
I hate how we humans must adulterate whatever beauty we can find, just so we can prove in some way that we do indeed exist. We may claim dominance over nature, but need we express it? And as a disclaimer, drunk car crash dude was fine and no one (thankfully) was dumb enough to be in his car.
1.0k · Jan 2014
The Wind
Daniel Samuelson Jan 2014
In the absence of you, what have I left to pursue?
Everything I know is nothing but an unattainable end:
The hunt for perfection in what is flawed,
The search for beauty among the mundane,
The crusade for sanctity and sacredness in all that is profane.
Hence, everything I seek is only madness, and all I say is meaningless.
Simple musings of a man whose mind succumbed to a broken heart
Driven to insanity when he lost the only thing he loved.
1.0k · Sep 2014
The Gift
Daniel Samuelson Sep 2014
An ever-growing list of things that I can't fix
a set of scribbles on a blank lined page
a lifetime of regretful (in)decisions
a stack of unstamped postcards that I swear I meant to send
my clinginess, my neediness
a drawer full of unused paper clips
two eyes that work too well to see what lies beneath the skin
a mouth that I may never learn to tame
two ears that someday soon will cease to hear
a cluttered, clumsy, cumbersome soul
two hands with scars and calloused fingertips
a mind that only ever thinks of you
two legs that don't know where the hell to go
and
a heart that's only satisfied when beating next to yours...

And this is all I have to give to you.
Hi, HP! It's been too long.
I've been spending a lot of time in nature for my ecopsychology class, and thought I'd be more inspired to write poetry this semester. But, life gets in the way. Penned this in a few minutes of downtime during a class. Enjoy!
991 · May 2014
Hypnagogia
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
Semi-conscious, muddy clarity
voices like static
buzzing, monotone droning
singing, sustaining single notes
whispering their sinister intentions
or moaning, screaming
“Who am I, what am I, where have I gone?”

A single voice to clear the static:
I’m right here.”
A pause.
Right behind you.”
Unsettling and dark
dripping poison on his lips,
a serpent, fallen, far from a protector.

Breathing ceases, pulse increases...
So this is what it’s like to be seen by demons.
He stares into my soul, the deepest recesses
the darkness dressed in best intentions
the gilded rotting apple of my heart...
A final chilling stare
he fades away to haunt me in my sleep.
"Hypnagogia is the experience of the transitional state from wakefulness to sleep: the hypnagogic state of consciousness." -Wikipedia
In such a state a long time ago, I once heard a cacophony of voices, followed by what I've written. Very eerie. It's nice to finally get it on paper, though.
Daniel Samuelson Jan 2014
Are you still worth my every waking moment?
You used to be my saving grace, my salvation, my atonement.

Now it seems like every ounce of love you had for me has been replaced with hate,
And so I wonder: is every wishful dream of you a waste?

I swear that love (and lack thereof) need not define me
Because I find my heart and lovesick mind confining...

God, remind me of the days I wrote for reasons other than emotion
For something like the clouds, an iron fence, or even for the ocean.

I used to say I’d never write a love poem, not for you or anyone.
But now I’ve nothing left to focus on, seeing how my heart has come undone.

For once upon a time, love was something beautiful and blurred
Not intended to be reckoned with or outlined by my simple human words.
Working on getting out of this love-centered poetry rut. I ought to write on things more meaningful.
968 · Jun 2014
Oceanside, CA
Daniel Samuelson Jun 2014
Crumbling concrete screens at the old drive-in
reminiscent of an era bygone.
Progress is our god
we've no time for nostalgia.
California moves too quickly for sentiment;
what's past is past, and is no more.
Musings.
928 · Apr 2014
Halcyon
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
Someday, I intend to walk on the horizon
the perfect line where sea meets sky
and in that halcyon union of blue and blue
I'd love to stand alone with you.
913 · Feb 2014
James Taylor
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2014
Lying lonely in a hotel room in Charlotte
I'm listening to James Taylor like you said you'd never do
And if I could I'd curse you, calling you a heartbreak or a harlot
But as we both know, simply not a word of it is true. 

I start to wonder what you're doing at this very instant
Back in California, Golden State of emergency. 
Are you smiling at an endless sunset
As you dream of happy endings that I'll never even see?

You press your lips against another's and still I never cross your mind. 
I drag my disembodied heart along rock bottom's floor
As you experience your highest highs, sitting blissfully at his side
And wistfully I'm singing, "Hard times, come again no more..."
"And signs that might be omens
Say I'm going, going, gone to Carolina..."
831 · Feb 2014
I Pine for You (Short)
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2014
Each infrequent word you say to me
Causes me to long for you.

Every time that you ignore me
Makes me wish you missed me too.
Saddened heart // Prolific mind.
I've not been alone during this Valentinial time of year since... like 7th grade. So? Things change... Why can't I?
Daniel Samuelson Oct 2016
The sunset slowly dies and
I collapse into your bed
breathing in the echoes of your scent
this extinct perfume I'll never know again
hands groping for any remnant of warmth you left behind.
The pillows miss your precious headweight
and I sleep in tear-choked sorrow, grasping to a slowly fleeting
memory of you.

Endless oceans separate the space between my ears—
How I wish you sailed in them still.
All I hear now is the distant sirens’ song—
they beckon me to heed their call.
But I know their voices aren't your own.
I could spend sleepless nights searching these waters
until I found a trace of you,
a ghost, nothing but a memory
that forever left its imprint
on this ever-aching heart.
Inspired by a dream I had the night before the tragic Orlando shooting. I sent my thoughts to my good friend on this site, Mr. Daniel Lockerbie (http://hellopoetry.com/daniel-lockerbie/) and we created our second collaborative poem.
790 · Jul 2013
On Beauty
Daniel Samuelson Jul 2013
If you live your life to follow the sunset
You'll surely end up where you started,
For beauty is fleeting like the day
And charm is deceptive; it passes away. 
But when evening is nigh
As the sun elapses sky,
When the age of winter approaches
And pursuit of youth is all but hopeless,
I'll hold you and look love in the eyes
Clutching close my everlasting sunrise.
789 · Apr 2014
Muse
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
Inspiration often manifests itself
in a female form
poetry, prose, pretty girls
igniting creativity. 

7th grade
heart smitten
hand clenched
scrawling, attempting
to formulate the essence
of the oak tree where we met. 
Charcoal pencil
cardstock paper
smudged hands
furrowed brow
stealing glances at her face 
(call it "motivation")
increasing heartbeat
blood flowing to my 
fingertips
through the wood and onto paper.

It's cyclical...
tree trunk felled 
for pencil and paper, reincarnated
as an oak
in a marriage of the two. 
Wood reformulated,
oak leaves reaching to the sun-- 
the glowing aura of her. 

The oak tree picture
its likeness
and she--
all left behind 
in time
distance
memory. 
Years later, I feel it again:
the siren song of a muse. 

But long abandoned charcoal,
cardstock paper gone. 
Now,
I am a painter
I decorate my canvases with words
of you, for you 
the one who makes
my fingertips prolific
they fumble
searching for the path 
to a Masterpiece.
This is a story of then and now, two different people, obviously. Pardon the length; I hope it doesn't deter you from reading. =)
I read once somewhere that a study asked men to draw a picture in the presence of an attractive woman, and their art was far superior to a control group. Not nonsensical, but intriguing.
777 · Jul 2014
Alive
Daniel Samuelson Jul 2014
“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.”

All is perception
through eyes of flesh.

What is known?
Outside of picture frames
My visage is a mystery.

In a ***** mirror
Dark room
Dimly,
I see myself.

Someday, we will see this
Earth from above
Through the eyes of God.

Face to face with eternity,
We will know.

Face to face with creation,
We will see.

In the presence of the Architect,
We will understand.

Outside of time and space,
We will truly be

alive.
1 Corinthians 13:12
"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known."

This poem commemorates one year of Hello Poetry membership for me (tomorrow).

This poem is dedicated to an awesome dude named Daniel Lockerbie (http://hellopoetry.com/daniel-lockerbie/).
For once, I looked in a mirror to find myself
And my name was Daniel.
My friend, I hope we meet face to face in real life someday.

Side note, for the few of you that've followed me (and my hopeless romantic struggles) for a while... I'VE BEEN SUCCESSFUL IN FINDING A LADYFRIEND. Just be happy with me. ;)

That's all! Have an awesome day/night/whatever.
766 · Jan 2014
Folly
Daniel Samuelson Jan 2014
A settled man with the heart of a vagabond
belonging to an artful brain and clumsy hands,
to eloquent thoughts and a stuttering mouth,
to an overarching desire to fly and touch the clouds
and an overwhelming fear of falling to the ground.
756 · Nov 2013
Reflections, Pt. II
Daniel Samuelson Nov 2013
I’ve learned that happiness
cannot be found in the form of comforting words.
I’ve learned that the third time you told me you were sure
hurt me just as badly as the other two.
But I had to make certain.
I’ve learned that a part of me died that night
when you told me you wanted something else
and I held your hand one final time.
I’ve learned that love (at times) is hellish
and that Molotov cocktail of rejection and forsakenness
that came bursting from my heart
left a bloodstain on the love letter I would have given you.
I’ve learned that pain gives way to numbness
When the nerves inside your soul are severed.
I’ve learned that I miss you most in the mornings
when I awake to find you only love me in my dreams.
I’ve learned that I’m not worth the wait, the distance, or the pain.
I’ve learned that I’ll never truly get you off my mind.
Most importantly I’ve learned that happiness is often only real while unconscious.
A response of sorts to "Reflections (What I've Learned in College)" by Gambit. Thank you for the inspiration.
755 · Sep 2017
exhaustion
Daniel Samuelson Sep 2017
So this is how the dreamer dies,
like awakening---
a vague and fading
recollection of the yesteryears and
the sleep sinks around the backside of the eyes
where it haunts the mind in
mirror images.
The vividity of living fades to grey and
all is calm, all is
monochromatic.
And so the dreamer dies, like falling back asleep.
737 · Feb 2014
Metal (10w)
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2014
Because I need
something
to scream back at my soul.
I enjoy so many different types of music, but more often than not I need something heavy to drown out what I feel.
736 · Nov 2013
The Yearning
Daniel Samuelson Nov 2013
Sometimes I wonder if you ever think of me and, if so,
How you manage to brush me from your thoughts
And dream of someone else (I know I never could).
Vagrant minds procure no solace but in love, and
Only in its fair requital. Alas...
Nothing’s ever meant so much to me.
No one’s ever occupied my mind for
Every passing moment of my empty days.
730 · Jul 2013
On Suffering / Pandora
Daniel Samuelson Jul 2013
I glared Pandora in her sinful eyes
And simply asked her, "Why?"
Concerning all the dreadfulness unleashed upon the earth
And only for a peek, for the sake of curiosity. 
Serpents and plagues spewed past her decaying lips,
Tears streamed and turned to blood 
On contact with her ancient skin. 
Her eyes pooled and screamed "I'm sorry,"
But faint and drowning, as if under oceans:
Seas of anguish
And centuries of bearing blame.
719 · Feb 2014
Ad Astra (To the Stars)
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2014
Lying rigid in the frozen dewy grass, breathing fog into the air
If only I could see beyond the clouds, I'd look into the starscape
And trace the constellations with my eyes
Searching for the one we called our own
Remembering the way we lay beside each other one sacred summer night
Straining our eyes, staring longingly at meteors and satellites.
Tonight, those stars so hidden from my view are the same presiding over you
And that used to comfort me, knowing that you're not unreachable.
But tonight, I see through starry eyes
looking down at us with their celestial vision
To witness a bright and happy girl whose smile steals the world
And a broken, lonely man who used to call her "love."
Every time I think I'm getting over you... I don't. And it hurts knowing that you don't feel the same. I just want to get on with life sometimes.
714 · Sep 2017
a conversation
Daniel Samuelson Sep 2017
Do you remember the rain, love?
I try to not.
Why?
When I do, I remember the trees. The colors, the greens and greys. The heaviness of the air just before it. The smell when it finally hits the thirsty earth. I remember your smile. All the things I miss too much to remember.
I still smile.
Not like you did when you heard the first thunder of a storm.
Fair.
I really miss the way you'd come alive like that. You'd be at your desk, pen scribbling with the same speed as the splatters on the asphalt. Happy. The clouds, the rain, they brought out the life in you. They watered your soul.
Sort of a blatant analogy, no?
I suppose. But it's true.
...
*I want the rains to return.
704 · Feb 2016
Mojave
Daniel Samuelson Feb 2016
I.

Smoke rising to an endless sky
fading twilight in your moon-bright eyes
crickets cry in crooning lullabies
as we kiss the world goodbye.
We lie beneath the stars while
embers from our fire fall
singe our skin and float away
like firefly kisses, like reminders that we
still aren’t dreaming
moonrise and a
soft "I love you" in the dark.

II.

Love,
let me be your now and your forever
let me be your somewhere in between
let me be your ever-loving shelter
for you are everything to me.

Let me be your comfort in the nighttime
let me be your never-ending dream
let me be your sunrise every morning
for you
are everything
to me.
692 · Apr 2014
Mansion Made of Straw
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
My heart,
a mansion made of straw:
Complex and
beautiful
but lit ablaze
by a single spark.
Intricate and
intimate
but bound to
collapse.
Spacious and
accommodating
but thin-walled,
colder in the nights.
Furnished and
ready for use
but over-staged,
exaggerated potential.

Do me a favor:
tear down the walls
burn it all, scatter ashes
that I may be an empty lot
to be renovated by an Architect.
I feel I fall in love too easily. Mind you, I'm picky beyond belief, but I think I'm just a hopeless romantic.
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
Made of glass,
but wishing
to be tinted
and shatterproof.
689 · Jul 2013
Alone
Daniel Samuelson Jul 2013
Take me to the land I've seen in dreams,
Where airy thoughts condense in ashen streams,
Where the empty skeletons of trees
Crack and rattle in unfelt breeze,
Where long-lost lovers unite and reminisce
Amidst the fog and quietness,
Where love escapes from lips like vapid mists
And the night is alive with eternal bliss. 
Take me to that place, so far from home,
Far from all I've ever known
Where no one is ever truly alone
And no one is ever truly alone.
I write most of my poetry in the twilight of sleep. This poem (no exception) makes an attempt to describe a landscape I saw in a half-dream: dark, secluded, foggy, but somehow beautiful.

*Update*: I found this place while traveling through Virginia. I can't begin to describe how crazy that experience was. Deja vu on some insane level. I think I'd like to live there someday.
667 · Mar 2014
Wanderlust
Daniel Samuelson Mar 2014
When it comes time for my soul to part from my body,
bury me somewhere I've never seen before.
Inter me in a place I've not yet visited.
If you have any difficulty doing so,
then you may be assured
my life was one worth living.
I wanna die with a worn-out passport.
Next page