Daniel P Martin

Daniel P Martin Poems

The beauty of a Rose, its pure innocence,
The glee it brings when it’s greatness is gifted.
The heart of the beholder filled with wonder,
The senses are taken and one by one are lifted.

My little brother has tickly toes,
A tickly tummy and a tickly nose.

My little brother has lots of green snot,

For the many long years, we travelled together; our paths would seldom part,
My journey goes on in solitude now; you’re a passenger in my heart,
I said to you so many times before, but now more than never its true,

As I lay on my towel, eyes closed; I absorb all that surrounds me
The sun is out and the wind is calm so the beach is full
To my right I can hear the faint but continuous drone of cars
As more and more try to cram into the overcrowded field

My little square of sky,
With people passing by,
A glimpse into the day,
Distant echoes of play,

When perusing the local library shelves,
Among many other browsers,
I crouched to pick a fallen penny,
And split my flipping trousers.

Thoughts burst upon us,
Like some interactive soot ‘em game,
Sometimes villains,
Sometimes good guys,

You make a decision,
To clear your vision,
But the world has gone all blury.

Am I an optimist, can that be me,
The glass is too murky to clearly see,
Do I feel hope in the way that it seems,
Perhaps my hopes are just fanciful dreams.

What building could stand without foundations?
What tree could survive without roots?
What bird could fly without breezes?
What flower could grow without shoots?


Tomorrow; that cad,
That scourge of intention,
Apathy and lethargy,
His evil twin henchmen.

Men are famed to fart a lot,
And Women must accept-it,
Though even I have to admit,
Mine can be rather septic.

Live not in blame,
Live up to your name,
Put the human back in humanity,
Exist in words of love and peace,

I became concerned, that I’d overlooked,
The matter of Health and Safety,
So I came to the conclusion, it was time to do,
A risk assessment of Poetry.

This is my pledge, my resolute vow,
I’ve turned a corner, starting now,
The doom and gloom are in the past,
Happy days are back at last!

Destructive like a whirlwind, with a Cheshire grin,
Scattering his toys around, and raiding the bin,
Following Freya, and destroying her tower,
Flooding the bathroom, when I'm having a shower,

How come nobody told me, that the sun sits in the sky,
That he warms the hearts of lovers as he slowly passes by.
His colours like an orchestra, all awaiting his command,
He conducts them across the ocean, spilling out upon the sand.

Do your best tormentor, but you shall not win today,
For I recognise your footsteps, and I shall not be your prey,
Your name has been exposed now, and your methods are quite clear,
Your subtle ways of hurting, can no more induce such fear.


The summer evening draws leisurely to a close,
Lovers basking in the subtle orange glow,
The residual heat from the day calms and tires them,
Entwined for eternity as their shadows grow.

I welcome progress with a tear in my heart,
The world is evolving and I play my part,
Change is inevitable, and technology the key,
But all the while conscious what the price may be.

Daniel P Martin Biography

I am a 32 Year Old Tax Adviser, but I also love writing poetry. Some of these are deep, meaningful and 'sensible', while other are just silly... That combination is a pretty good description of me really!)

The Best Poem Of Daniel P Martin

Every Rose Has A Thorn

The beauty of a Rose, its pure innocence,
The glee it brings when it’s greatness is gifted.
The heart of the beholder filled with wonder,
The senses are taken and one by one are lifted.

The eyes compare this single and individual flower,
To other types, different kinds and breeds.
By far it exceeds its expectations, its presence causes delight,
By comparison other flowers are weeds.

The nostrils take in this pleasing aroma,
The smell of perfection oozes even from its very name.
The inhaled pollen gently nests inside the smeller;
The Rose and the lover become indistinguishably the same.

But alas, perfection, beauty, love, all only mask what is hidden below, A secret that must remain.
The reality of the Rose shows a sorrowful being,
Saddened by its curse, the potential to cause great pain.

The happiness and the joy, the eternal unquestioning love,
The Rose can turn all this to scorn.
The beautiful creation, the sad and scared soul,
Only too aware of the truth; Every Rose has a Thorn.

Daniel P Martin Comments

Tsira Gogeshvili 02 September 2011

Daniel, It is good poem... But is not felt east scent... it's not secretly that Every rose thorned .....Every rose has potential to cause great pain. and anyone who falls in her love, should be ready to accept pains also from her... Tsira.

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