Biography of Charles Darnell
I was born in Louisiana but I've spent most of my life in Texas, particularly in San Antonio where I met my wife and raised my family.
My work has appeared in anthologies and in print and online journals including The Shine Journal, The Mindful Word, Right Hand Pointing, and others. I am the past winer of the Tempie-Skerritt-Hickman Award and the San Antonio Poetry Fair Award. I recently won the 'On Fire' on line poetry contest in Bangalore, India.
I am a member of the Sun Poets Society in San Antonio.
Charles Darnell Poems
I walk along a melancholy strand, Hearing music played too far To be meant for me. Drifting down the beach,
Ah Jesus! You do me no favors! You give me life, but not my life! You raise me up, what am I to do? You are borne away with the crowd,
Waiting For Joy
We tell ourselves that it will come. It will descend upon us While we are busy Or simply laying about,
You lay in all your splendor, Haughty in your grace And beauty, As if saying to Rome:
Air: A Love Poem
We lay together, Reclined in dark, Your silhouette outlined By ambient light,
Ah, my friend! Come, sit, it has been a long while. No, no, It is just me now.
“Yahoo buckaroo! ” Your bare butt bouncing To the clop of your cowboy boots, Six guns high in the air!
Flight Of Words
There they go! I knew it would happen. They were hanging around Pecking at the surface
Quarter Moon Waxing
The moon is in its first quarter. It grows as it crosses the sky Travels among the background of stars Shines like hard diamonds.
Crows Of Cain
A murder of crows Feast on another kind. The dried gore A new dinner
Father, I offer this confession in answer to the purpose of my life. You sent me in your love before your people To show them a path to Heaven.
The spray hits you in the face. The swells bring the distended belly Quickly up then settles with a greenish hiss, Another and another.
Lay Me Down
In my long sleep. Cover me with The warmth of earth. Grow sweet lilies
The Marriage Of Jeanne D’arc
The guests surround me now, Here, on this special day. The priest prays his litany, Tradition of long years.
Waiting For Joy
We tell ourselves that it will come.
It will descend upon us
While we are busy
Or simply laying about,
Bestowed like a crown,
A reward for patience.
Or, we seek it in others,
To suck out,