Dan Reynolds

Dan Reynolds Poems

Each year I fear a little less than last
as time erodes the terrors I have known.
No longer doomed to deem the die is cast,
though 'change for change's sake' is overblown.

I cannot claim the cloak of innocence
for deeds I do no more, and yet... did once.
My catholic culture, quelled, still seems immense
contributing to this, , , deistic dunce.

Thank God I'm an Atheist ©

One fine night, in the middle of the day,
two atheists knelt down to pray.

How can a cat connect, yet stay adrift?
How can it share a look that says so much?
The 'Cat''s acceptance of 'Us' is a gift
endorsed by letting carers dare to touch,

The dragonfly decided not to land,
nor decorate his ornate garden pond.
It sought some other gardener's hallowed hand
across the lawn, the beck wall and beyond.

I wondered, if the hero had been overweight or baldy
would women weep, perhaps lose sleep, o'er Tristan and Isolde?
And then I pushed derision from my vision of the plot
and asked my heart to seek the part, wherein the story got

If Michael was a mentor and a friend
you'd think I should have known when he had died.
A year or so has skipped by since his end.
A year in which I've been pre-occupied

To answer, 'What does 'Love' look like? ', we need
to ponder on where love itself exists.
Where does this cherished treasure choose to breed?
Within romantic hearts or fighter's fists?

The Mole the Merrier? (Part 1)

There’s a mole at the bottom of the garden,
I’m told they’re awful cute.

Considering how poetry is seen
by those who read or write within its laws,
I see now that the average is mean,
and hear the constant sharpening of claws.

The light had barely broken
when his flutter caught my ear.
Through bleary, sleep-stained, sticky eyes
upon my sill, he did appear.

Regardless of the tongue with which we’re born,
the thoughts within develop at a pace
until the day when from us, they are torn,
and proffered to a wasteful human race.

Scent of my….

The road mender's brazier on a warm summer's day
When the smell of tar was melting from the pavement anyway

There once was a flower who learned how to think
evolving to harness it's best chance of life
no visible brain and no definite link
to show how or when it fell on its own knife.

Do You Know the Muffin Man
who visits every morn
who nothing does as nothing can
while ripening the corn?

How can I welcome Spring without regret?
This time of new-found hope for life's rebirth
When every daffodil exhumes my debt
to you whose genes have placed me on this earth.

Those who search, may not all find,
Answers which just spring to mind.
The fruitless waste of perspiration,
In search of unearned inspiration,

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The glass
is quickly running

(May be sung to the tune of 'Hallelujah'; ¬)

They say ye canny fill yer breechs
Wi' tatty scones and boiled leeks

They say, 'a picture's worth a thousand words'.
A slight exageration, you might think?
This notion needs dispatching for the birds,
as scrutiny reveals the dubious link.

The Best Poem Of Dan Reynolds

New Year Sonnet

Each year I fear a little less than last
as time erodes the terrors I have known.
No longer doomed to deem the die is cast,
though 'change for change's sake' is overblown.

I know I need a catalyst, ad lib
to spur the odd excursion from the droll
I know the pen is nowt without the nib
I know the ink inside me is the goal.

I seek not to discover what is new
when what is old has yet to be explained.
I'll dig down deep and ask, 'What can I do
to share the knowledge I've already gained? '

In order to bequeath our wisdom's wealth...
This year I'll start by honouring myself.

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