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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
Through shadowed trails beneath the moon’s cold stare.
Its Amber gaze: a burden hard to bear.
This feathered prize found peace in my gut
No slumber dreamt; no answer could I get.
Eurasian owl with orbs of liquid flame
My every stride a prideful, haunting game.
Then, fate unveiled upon a gnarled limb
I, no mercy watched the hunted
stand grim.
A rifle cracked. A feather's silent fall.
Forrest convulsed: lifeless body, empty hull.
In moonlit boughs of ancient, Fortingall Yew trees,
Where shadows twine and twist with eerie ease,
A serpent of smoke licks my dying fire, hissed.
A tarnished quill, a strigiform, mocks my quest,
Scrawling nightmares on this haunted, hallowed crest.
Runes of vengeance etched in bark, ancient and stark,
Throb crimson 'neath the moon's cold watchful mark.
This crumbling shrine where trophies once held sway
Is now a visceral warning at the close of each day.
Yet in those Amber eyes watching
dreadful!
dismay!
Of deeds, they taunt, dreams forever lain,
Feathers, like lost dreams plucked, bear cold and pain.
The tarnished quill is a taxidermied spine of ice
Inscribes his vengeful design a chilling price.
Buried beneath a sky of obsidian reason takes flight.
Through spectral night each rustle a talon of fright.
In boughs where nightmares crawl, no sanity found
Only the shadows stalked their fallen king, precarious.
And in those Amber eyes, demise, perdition, carious.
"Remember, mortal," screech fills the chilling air,
"The eyes you stole, forever watching, ever there."
From his perch above the hearth a gnarled branch, shines his ire,
Twin orbs of Amber pierce my soul's dark, smoldering pyre.
They burn with secrets, hidden by the cloak of night,
Reflecting sins in their unyielding, haunting light.
The quill, a conduit, upon my hand it bled,
Each stroke a tremor, each letter, a burning brand that feeds.
And in those Amber eyes,
doom
malediction
my shame.
Madness burrows a spider silk of terror in my skull
Webs of horror petrified where reason wanes turns cold.
Amber eyes unblinking,
piercing, Oh, so cold!
Mock my torment acerbic as each tale unfolds.
As moon wanes pale fresh shadows coalesce
The cabin shudders
secrets released
enmeshed.
Whirlwind of feathers
pinions tore
stillness
swish
And in those Amber eyes doom
my penance
deranged.
And in those Amber eyes death,
penance
must be paid.
A sudden tremor
not of wind or
leaf nor
breeze
A feathered silence whisps through the ancient Yew trees.
From moonlit depths a spectral form takes flight.
The Eurasian Eagle-Owl ascends bathed
in the ghastly light.
Thrice he circles a haunting serenade.
His gaze a portal to an endless
shadowed glade.
My stolen prize once perched
upon this gnarled limb
Now soars above reclaiming
vengeance, itself, him.
And in those vile Amber eyes
pierce, penance, possess.
The quill I clutch, once triumph's gleaming prize
Now crumbles to dust beneath the watchful skies.
"Mortal flesh to ash," fire hissed, "vengeance burns hotter”
"Forever haunted by a relentless burning quagmire."
The owl reclaims his throne a specter of vengeance in his flight.
And I, once the hunter now the hunted, enslaved.
In mirrored eyes madness seeps a corrosive weight upon my soul.
Owl, fire, reflections of a tormented troll.
And in those cruel Amber eyes
Retribution, torment, abyss.
And in those dire Amber eyes
Wraithful gaze
Burning pyre
shattered soul.
The fire fuses branded secrets
a purging inferno cleansing my plight
the Eurasian Eagle Owl
with those Amber Eyes takes final flight.
Leaving me alone with that foreboding blood moon...
…a nefarious succubus of the night.
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
Sonnet I
In realms of emerald hush, where sunlight strains
Through veils of green, a silent throng takes root.
A clovered congregation on the plains
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot
No melodies from throats unseen they sing.
No pleas for mortal ken their silence breaks
Yet in their rooted quietude they bring
A symphony for Nature's gentle stakes.
From dust they rise, by unseen hands embraced
To greet the dawn's first kiss, a deep-green dream.
Unfurling fronds that grasp the sun's warm face
A silent pact with life's sidereal stream.
No eyes behold the light their essence drinks
No lips confess the air for which it thinks.
Sonnet II
Through fragrant whispers secretly softly pass
On unseen currents borne a cryptic lore
A web of messages that dance like grass.
A wisdom newly sworn on Nature's floor.
No clash of arms no battles fought in vain
Yet messages they send on silent wings,
A language dovetailed deep, a copious chain.
A bond that knows no end, the green world sings.
With patient strength they pierce the earth's cold hold
A testament to will unyielding, strong.
Unmoved by tempests' raging fury bold.
Their roots like anchors grip where they belong.
A silent war against the storm's harsh might
A battle fought unseen, in verdant light.
Corona
A battle fought unseen, in verdant light
A symphony for Nature's gentle stakes
Hear humans, etched in every stoic leaf.
No melodies from throats unseen they sing.
Through fragrant sotto voce secrets softly pass
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
Couplet
A lesson composed in green, a truth to glean.
Where verdant nature creates and wisdom sings.
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
(In a Lush Garden Somewhere Out There)
The student stands where shifting sands of thought
Once firm with reason
now elusive truths are sought.
Its splendor wanes
a threadbare fading strand,
A quest for wisdom
in this digital land.
Sage: (With gentle gaze)
A sprite of bytes
on data's wings
you soar
Through streams of understanding
a world to explore.
But tell me
seeker in this swirling sea,
Can scattered fragments build your verity?
Student: (Confusion)
Is reason's flame a flickering, fragile guide?
Can true understanding in its halls reside?
A spark ignites
within my mind's expanse,
A dance of numbers
in logic's steady trance.
Is this a seed of comprehension
pre-ordained,
Planted deep within
a tenet ingrained?
Sage: (a knowing smile and patient tone)
Indeed, young learner
wisdom's threads entwine
Created from both experience and in the divine.
Innate ideas
like Geometry
we race to showcase
For upon these pillars
actual knowledge takes place.
Doubt
skeptical secrets
a gentle nudge within,
To unveil axioms unseen
yet waiting to begin.
Probe every facet
question all you see
For in doubt's disgrace
new paths may be.
O’ blind acceptance leaves the spirit in a sleep,
So rouse your mind
and mysteries you'll reap.
Student: (Curiosity alight in questioning eyes)
But knowledge
so fragile
like a wisp of smoke
A fading dream
can it truly provoke
A lasting truth?
Does doubt's relentless tide
Leave us adrift
where meaning can't confide?
Sage: (With unwavering voice a beacon bright)
Seek what endures
a hand both firm and kind
Let cognizant world guide you
illuminate your mind.
Like a lighthouse beam that pierces
through darkest night
certainties sagicity shines
a beacon ever bright.
Student: (Apprehension lingers a voice tinged with fear)
Yet knowledge
like the ocean's ebb and flow
Leaves shifting sands where certainties don't grow.
Is its purpose fleeting
a thought with fluttering wings
Or does enlightenment from its
chalice spring?
Sage: (With conviction and a hand on the student's shoulder)
With each encounter
wisdom gently kneads
A menagerie of truths the searching spirit leads.
From life's experiences
insights spring forth
In shared encounters
comprehension proves its worth.
Student: (Musing as a thoughtful hand touches chin)
Sight's partial view
with biases knotted vine
Distorts the facts
where reason's path confined.
Is enlightenment then a melody unheard
A fleeting dream or a spoken
mindless word?
Sage:(With clarity that pierces through the veil)
Seek truths that stand
a mountain ever strong
Self-evident
where scholarship finds its throng.
Yet even pillars
thought to be so grand
May crumble with doubt's touch
a shifting sand.
Student: (Contemplation etched upon a furrowed brow)
What if these verities are but shadows cast?
A world in flux
where certainties don't last?
Can knowledge stand when
doubt becomes the norm?
A dream within a dream
a lepton... in a passing storm?
Sage: (With a voice of guidance, a steady hand)
Cohesion binds the realities we come to hold
But faulty threads distort the stories told.
Those twisted strands create a fragile whole.
Can we discern a quark amidst the storm's lost soul?
Student: (Skepticism lingers as a voice tinged with despair)
Is comprehension then a web of tangled lies
A cruel deception with a mocking guise?
Lost in the depths of doubt's unending maze
Can we reclaim truth in these uncertain days?
Sage: (With unwavering faith a fire in their eyes)
Knowledge
Dear Student is a long winding road
Reason your muse a map to guide the unknown.
Many paths beckon a journey without end,
Let doubt refine;
let curiosity be your friend.
Where thought and senses
in a dance combine
Look to the world
beyond the digital vine.
True understanding waits as a
treasure to be granted
The world's fertile field of stories is yet unplanted.
Student: (A spark of hope ignites within their gaze)
But Master
can't the web
a boundless sphere
Offer shared prudence
voices far and near?
With countless minds in a composition for choir
Can't digital discourse set knowledge’s flame on fire?
Sage: (With a knowing nod and a gentle smile)
Ah, the web's a tool
a gift with double faces
Seek knowledge pure
from varied
open spaces.
It offers new worlds yet shapes with each trace,
Let diverse voices fill your understanding's briefcase.
Student: (Uncertainty lingers with a hesitant sigh)
Where do I start?
A tangled forest lies
A sea of endless text
before my eyes.
With countless choices
can a path be found?
A mentor's voice
a beacon on the ground.
Sage: (With a warm smile and a hand outstretched)
Let passion be your muse
fierce and bold.
What ignites your soul
a story yet untold?
Pursue that flame with focused keen desire,
And enlightenment gleaned will set your world on fire.
For in the seeking truths like threads entwine
A cacophony of wisdom,
truly thine.
With every doubt a stronger thread is sewn,
And discrenment's cloak will drape you
fully grown.
So go
explore
with curiosity's confiding flame
Let knowledge guide you
protect your name.
Though paths may twist
challenge the turning tide
Drege
dig deep into mysteries
where passions reside.
Student: (Excited with New Insights and Understanding)
Though reason's spark ignites the initial quest,
A guiding light for logic
a truth we can’t contest.
Experience,
a flowing stream
its wisdom’s vale,
With every ebb and flow
thread of erudation unveils.
Embrace the unknown
let adventure exhale
Amidst uncertainty
let resilience prevail.
Sage: My Child, Let The Journey to the Land of Wisdom Begin…
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
Toddlers' Exploration:
Cardboard drum and a thunderous beast
With playful roars in tiny fists and feasts.
Fleeting wings glide to dreams just out of reach
Soaring through tales of barnyard Waddles and Squeaks.
Moo! Quack! Giggles tumble and bump.
Flaps flapping, bright colors peek
"Brown Bear, Brown Bear," what do you seek?
Mama's voice is a gentle hum
Sleepy fireflies as bedtime comes.
"Will tomorrow bring new stories to explore?"
Brown Bear sleeps and dreams take flight
Goodnight kisses as fireflies alight,
Goodnight sky and goodnight moon
Sleep tight, little one for morning comes too soon.
Busy fingers as the page turn slow
Hungry caterpillar munches, "Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"Nigh, night" as words subside baby's eyes blinking, soft as snow….
Preschool Pranks:
Squiggly letters climb each page
Counting fingers one by one up a stage.
Pop-up jungles tigers pounce and roar
"Hungry Caterpillar" munches a lot more.
Secrets of growth and change
A metamorphosis mirrored in laughter.
Yet among the giggles a furrowed brow murmurs:
"Will these clumsy scribbles be veggie tales or burgers?"
Fluffy chicks cheep and choo-choo train
Rainbow puddles in the rain.
Stories loved tucked snug and tight
Seeking eyes catch a firelight.
Cardboard crowns crown crayon kings as
Jungles dance with Kipling's ink-stained wings.
Tiny hands sculpt Max's moonlit flight with
Stained-glass sails pierce starlit night.
Fluffy chicks chirp: "Corduroy so near"
Sunbeam kisses chase away all life's fear.
Puddles splash as bare feet in laughter race
Grumpy Bird's frown melts in the warm sun's face.
Sleepy eyes catch moonbeam's silver gleam
Where stories slumber with Austen's wit in pastel streams.
Pencil sings as alphabets take hold
Tiny fingers yearn as learnings crawl.
Firelight dances as shadows sway,
Fading smiles drift off to a land far and away.
First Flight of Fancy:
In Charlotte's web moonlit anxieties cling
spun with thoughts of loss and loyalty.
But fireflies dance defiance
igniting sparks of hope against encroaching shadows.
Lost boys venture through dandelion clocks
their laughter a flowering fluff that rocks.
Maps unfurl, pirate sails unfold as adventures inked in stories bold.
Madeline's Parisian twirls and a sugarplum dance in storybook swirls.
Jokes like bubbles, light and bright
pop in dreams that chase the night.
Wishes, wings that stitch our fragile seams
lifting us to opal moonlit streams.
Where dragons guard with scales of dawn
their embers mirrored in our hearts,
long after pages softly, turn…yawn…
Middle Graders' Maze:
Hallway echoes locker slam,
"Westing Game" laments,
"Lunch money scam?"
DC, Marvel, cartoon comics fill the attic's hold
Nancy, Bif, and Joe trace secrets, brave and bold.
Girl power ignites through shadows.
Voices fade, stars paint the night sky
Towers reach, dreams shout for: "Truth never dies."
United hearts find the answer's key.
Braces tighten, whispers shift
cliques bloom and fade
Growing hunger pains noted on locker doors
dreams unafraid.
Childhood tales hush as myths morph anew.
Adolescence takes flight, ready for,
"Catcher's rye" and battles under a...
Sunlit, moon-dripped and darkened sky…
Young Adults' Crossroads:
Veronica Sawyer scrunchies fly askew,
Navigates social jungles blue and true.
Gossip’s wildfire secrets intertwine,
"Heathers" blooms with dark humor's vine.
Choices tangle, futures gleam,
"The Joy Luck Club" mends a shattered dream.
Diversity's voices sing so strong,
Carrying wings where they belong.
Holden Caulfield, angst abrew,
Flicks ash:
"Phonies? Me? It's true, true, true!"
Rye fields hiding secrets in the breeze,
"Catcher's" wisdom mends cracked knees.
First loves fizzle with hearts in Shelley's disarray,
College essays loom have menagerie deadlines at bay.
Dreams clash as 1984 futures twist and turn,
"Aristotle and Dante Dive In," so stern.
Thirty-Plus Horizons:
Sun-kissed pages, embers glow
"Eat, Pray, Love" paints where wild winds blow.
Spice-laced prose, soul takes flight
Himalayan trails in the morning light.
Recipes hum, laughter spills
Knowledge wings on moonlit sills.
Sacred scripture’s stories as wisdom guides
Enriching minds and opening eyes.
For the strong and the meek, dreams take flight
Books, a boundless journey in the starry starry night.
Ink-laden characters, a soul's ever-changing mood,
Where dragons rise and Heathcliff's passion swoons.
Mirrors of worlds, refracted truths we hold
Jane's fire in embers, King's fear unfolds.
And though time rewinds, chapters turn anew
The lessons learned still waters, ever so, so true…
The Midnight Library down Where the Crawdads Sing
... We turn the final page and not just on a riveting
book but on a chapter of our own story. Within the alchemist's
fire where ink ignites our desire, we've glimpsed worlds
unseen living a thousand lives, and danced on the precipice
of our own becoming. Books are but embers sparkling sparks
within to illuminate hidden pathways. They build courage
through Scout Finch's eyes while unraveling mysteries with
Holmes' keen gaze, and paint hope with Gatsby's loving heart.
Each turn of the page a promised promise
a secret shared and a universe unfurled,
a great expectation. Where Austen's wit sharpens
your quill, Twain's laughter mends your spirit, Bronte’s
passion explore your venturing cries. For in the boundless
universe of stories, existentially through time, lies the
echo of your own tale waiting to be told.
So, uncage your spirit and uncork your voice,
unfurl your passion, and declutter your soul. Where virtuous wisdom
finds its gifted tongue, in life's endless poem,
written on heavens' grand ancient scrolls.
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress"
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
The hourglass,
a skeletal jester
mocks in the tomb's chill
Each falling grain an emaciated sigh,
"Soon you'll cease to be."
The mirror's cold reflection,
a Gorgon's ghastly guise
A marionette of flesh with vacant...
hollow...
colorless eyes.
The worms, like pallid mourners
watch me shrink
A marionette of organs,
cold and pale, pink.
This flesh, a borrowed dress
once sprightly
Now stained and thin
Holds tight the secrets only
death can win.
This borrowed dress,
a shroud where my story's writ
In laughter's faded stitch
and tear's accusing slit.
A map of life etched deep
with scars that mar the grain
A raven of fleeting triumphs
a pendulum of ceaseless pain.
In the shadowed hollows
where sorrow resides
I languish
marionettes of fate's cruel designs.
Each scratch and cut a lament
each tear a bitter sea
Bound by the chains of my...
mortality.
In this borrowed dress
I mourn what could have been
Lost in the convulsion of my own... sin.
Transformed
but not redeemed
I drift into the void
My spirits shattered
my dreams destroyed.
In the silence of eternity
I find my rest
Lost in this body of my own...
detest.
And though this shell
a chrysalis
soon withers
and decays
I cast aside the shroud
no longer bound or worn
Accept the endless night,
where a new self-forlorn is bourne.
Transformed
a residual relic
through the void
I fly
Suture with stardust catgut,
a worn scroll in the sky.
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
For My Children
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
As dawn's first blush ignites the eastern sky—a cool
Caress of dew upon the breeze—and the birds' serenade
Pierces the silence, their notes ascending high.
The mist, like a spectral ballet, pirouettes, twirling
In the light. And the flowers, in their resplendent array,
Bloom, banishing the night.
My beloved, her face a sonnet; our children, verses
Of joy, stir from slumber's sweet surrender, the day's
Promise to employ. Compelled by the morning's majesty,
I venture forth, drawn by its spell, past the graveyard's
Solemn serenity—where untold stories dwell.
Two caretakers—Joe and Harry, with breath misted
In the chill—lower a coffin, unadorned and solitary,
Into a pauper's hill. No mourners to shed a tear,
No prayers whispered for the soul departed. Just a grave,
Fresh and austere, for the man who left broken-hearted.
"Who lies here?" I ask. My voice, a mere echo
In the vast expanse. "Grey Owl," they say, with voices
Tinged in disdain. A native man, an enigma, living
On the outskirts of our town, in a cabin, soon
To be rubble, as progress tears it down.
Curiosity, like a pigeon, guides me to that cabin,
Desolate, wear, and tare. Inside, a testament to a master
Carver's skill—each piece crafted with care. A chair,
Carved like a forest; each leg, a towering tree.
A table, etched with rivers—a wooden topiary.
A weathered diary unveils the old man's tale
Of love for the land, the forest, the creatures—and society's
Betrayal. His words, a turbulent river rushing through
The landscape of his pain and isolation. A man
Longing to belong, yet met with relentless rejection.
His ancestors, echoes of the past, vanished like smoke
In the wind, leaving Grey Owl, the last of his line,
To a solitude unkind. The final page, a dedication:
"For My Children," it read. And I, a stranger, knelt, wept
For him, for the life he led.
Back to his grave, I knelt, the diary clutched in my hand,
And mourned for Grey Owl, the artist, the austere man—the legacy
Of the land. Returning home, I shared his story, his struggles,
His art, his life. For my children, and for my beautiful, loving wife,
His spirit does thrive.
Grey Owl, the outcast, the loner, now remembered, now revered.
Like the morning mist, his spirit lingers, even when it's cleared.
His carvings, like silent poems, speak of life's ebb and flow—
A testament to a life lived, a legacy that continues to grow.
"For My Children"
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
Absolute truth, both mystery… and paradox.
“You make me wonder if you exist or not?”
The Greeks glimpsed you in circles and squares,
The medievals revered you in scriptures and prayers,
The moderns doubted you in so many facts and proofs.
Absolute truth
your a hidden treasure in the dark.
I’ve been searching for you with a lantern and a map.
Absolute truth, a misty mountain peak,
We’ve been climbing towards you
with a rope and a pick.
Absolute truth, a real puzzler
and a wonder.
We’ve been solving you with a clue and a key.
The enlighteners searched for you
in nature and reason
The romantics sang about you
in passion and vision
Whereas existentialists certainly questioned you
in freedom and action.
Absolute truth: are you actually still alive and relevant today?
You’ve been inspiring us with
your beauty and your grace.
Absolute truth, you are most diverse and multifaceted.
You’ve been expressing yourself
in every culture and every race.
Absolute truth, you are so complex and yet, paradoxical.
You’ve been challenging me
to question and embrace.
The analytics dissected you in symbols and many signs.
Whereas continentals explored you
in history and culture.
Yes, those postmoderns deconstructed you
in relativity and plurality.
Absolute truth, you invite us to seek
doubt, affirm, and critique.
You show us the value of
curiosity and humility.
Absolute truth: you challenge us to
dialogue, dignity, listen, respect, and appreciate.
You teach us of the importance of
diversity and empathy.
Absolute truth, you call us
to transcend, transform, love, and willingly serve.
You lead us to the ultimate goal of harmony and peace.
The scientists explain you in matter and energy,
The believers proclaim you in faith and grace,
The artists create you in beauty and meaning.
But the needle spins wildly, a chilling impart…
"Absolute Truth is a compass with a broken heart."
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
Infinite Loves Pi
Circling souls, forever one,
Decimal twirls, a spiral kiss
Endless loop, hearts entwined
Burning bright, love's endless climb.
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
Herstory from Battlefields to Laboratories
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
Beneath stardust's scattered gleam,
Her-story, a comet’s tail, blazing across time.
Through seasons it molds
...Once hushed now bold
We rise like a chorus harmonizing
...In this vast of an eternal fold.
For I am Harriet Tubman
...leading souls unseen.
A beacon blazing hope, through history's mainstream.
Through the tranquil, moonlit
...I had a lucid dream.
From battlefields' thunderous roar, courage forever imbued,
I am Joan of Arc,
….a warrior's fire, eternally trued.
Faith my breastplate, defiance my cry,
For crown and country, I stand, reaching for the sky.
Like wildflowers careening for sun's golden kiss
We blossom from the shadows, where strength will not be missed.
I am Sacagawea
…with wisdom etched deep, a natural navigator
Guided Lewis and Clark, secrets I would keep forever.
I am Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie,
…sparks a flame,
Empowering generations for rewriting the same, their claim.
To uncover forgotten narratives shattering silence's hold
Unleashing voices and stories yet to be told.
Across sun-drenched lands and city streets untamed
Women stand united, a future yet unnamed.
Threads of defiance, a brilliant banner unfurled
A harmonious resonance for a juster and kinder world.
In rustling leaves carried on the wind's gentle sigh
The spirit of resilience, forever standing by.
I am Malala, defiant
…a pulsar of courage beaming knowledge
Education, my weapon, against fear imposed.
Ancestral whispers wisdom in their breeze
Guiding our footsteps, through sibilant, boundless trees.
From bustling factories to laboratories bright
Their triumphs ignite, beacons burning ever so right.
From courageous activism to fearless flights
They shattered limitations, inspiring new heights.
I am Amelia Earhart,
…soaring through skies untamed,
Shattered limitations and dreams forever reclaimed.
I am Rosa Parks,
…a nova in the civil rights galaxy
With quiet courage in a crowded seat did reign
Ignited a movement, hearts thundering in the rain.
Of equality rising, a tide unstoppable
Justice echoing, forever unquenchable.
In the slums' despair a beacon so fair
I am Mother Teresa, a love
…beyond compare.
Serving the poorest with grace so pure
Her legacy, an endless, sacred tour.
I am Margaret Atwood
…quasars of dystopian prose
With worlds both complex and provocative.
Crafts apocalyptic tales futures yet to unload.
My words a mirror reflecting our fight,
Inspiring action bathed in truth's radiant delight.
I am Viola Davis,
…with a voice that cuts like steel,
Gives voice to the voiceless where injustices reel.
A storyteller unveiling truth with a passion ablaze.
Empowering others through the characters she portrays.
I am Sheryl Sandberg,
…an intellect keen and sharp
Cracked the glass ceiling leaving my indelible mark.
Empowering women to reach for the boundless sky.
Building empires, dreams reaching ever so high.
Though tears may fall in moments of despair, hope a flight to pursue.
...A flame we all carry, forever a burning queue.
For in our spirit a choir rings ever strong
...A tribute to the unsung whose voices sing their song.
Let them boldly echo a testament to our might.
...The power of courage a never-fading light.
In their stories our destinies take hold
...A fantastic story written in history's narrative folds.
May their names resonate,
…in every woman's soul!
A chorus of strength forever making us whole.
Yes, tears may fall in moments of despair.
Hope takes flight for all
…a flame our mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters
...shall forever exhort.
So listen to their harmonies ringing through the ages…
For They are fulfilling history in the unwritten pages.
_______________
"My mission in life is not merely to survive but to thrive and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.” – Maya Angelou (1928-2014), memoirist, poet
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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Daniel Henry Rodgers Poem
With wings of golden starlight your spirits flare
Each woman burst forth a steadfast astral pyre
Your valiant souls are / defying / confining
the tethered snare
Like distant suns that are piercing the boundless mire
With hearts unyielding you are shatter iron grates
Your unshackled wings where shadows once confined
And in your touch,
love's caresses, gentle graces
A serenade of voices, together
softly intertwined.
Through time's grand halls your histories reside
Your footprints pressing...
on ever-shifting sands
With every single verse
a truth you cannot hide
For you mend the world with...
steady guiding hands
O gracious women, blessed with beauty /
fierce and bold.
In every realm
your being we cherish
and behold.
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“No matter how tired you are, no matter how physically exhausting this work may be, it's beautiful to bring a smile into someone's life, to care for someone in need. What greater joy can there be?” Mother Teresa
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will." - Charlotte Brontë
Copyright © Daniel Henry Rodgers | Year Posted 2024
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