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The Poetry Of Brian Faulkner

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#1141 B. Royce

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Posted 05 October 2014 - 07:16 PM

The Poet and The Statue


If I, as bird, did fly around your waterfall

Of silver-shining hair to see your twinkling eyes

And stopped, a-hover there, so much amazed with all

The wrink'less beauty of a splendid lover, oh,

Would I not sing such piercing songs into the skies

That gath'ring clouds would get them fast and far away,

And winds, that moved so dull before, would blow and blow,

And fill with big bloom odors all the wilding air

Until you breathed, and turned, and stretched like bursting May?

Then, awed, I'd sit a waving branch and watch you there,

Like ship upon the waters, up and down, in bliss

To sight the isle of happiness for which it's bound.

And now, with flutt'ring pulse for perfect, twirling 'round,

I 'magine me a bee to buzz your lips and kiss!

Oh, what better power than poet's power like this?



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#1142 B. Royce

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Posted 06 October 2014 - 04:22 PM

My Own Place


In the luminous light of a happy man's brow

Is that pride of his being that lifts me to bow,

For it's not upon knees, but in spirit of praise

I am up to admire the strength of his ways---

His strong greatness in gathering work to his hand

For the joy of high daring his will does command.

The true lights of his eyes are not stars in the skies

That are ever in midnight or dawn to be found,

But are earthly, intense, with above common sense,

And held taut with ideas, in motion, unbound---

A new energy, giant, that jumps into fire

For a weld to the willing of one man's desire!

In the glory of gladness engirding his face

Do I gaze on my future and find my own place.


My own place is the daylight of thinkers who dream;

My dear home is the sound of my many-stringed lyre,

And I send out a song on a life-giving stream

That is melody made of all human desire.

I am off on a note to the highlands of hope,

Where the true and the possible play;

Where never is heard the poor word of a pope

And the mind is not cloudy all day.

And the range of my song for the good and the strong

Goes from courage and laughter and light

To integrity's wings, that fling wide when man sings

Of his glory in going so right!

My own place is the greatness of men when they know

That the banner of judgment must never hang low!



Brian Faulkner

#1143 B. Royce

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Posted 12 October 2014 - 07:00 PM

Columbus, Seen


Columbus, seen,

Looked at the Queen

And gave his winning speech.


Said he would go

Where no man know

And bring the all in reach.


Most men did doubt,

And shouted out

That he was well-nigh mad,


And monsters dread

Would seize him, dead,

Who foolishly waxed glad.


Columbus sailed,

Fearfulness failed;

His calmness drew men on;


The "fall off ball"

He deemed a flaw,

His judgment was men's dawn.


Columbus, soaring

Past the scorn

Of they who love to hate,


Alumnus bright

Of summer light,

Superior to fate,


I praise your pride

That, un-denied,

The earth with truth did crown.


Your careful thought,

In daring wrought,

Has brought us all around!



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#1144 B. Royce

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Posted 20 October 2014 - 04:15 PM

One Life


As the end of my being is the joy of my giving

That all that is in to the whole that is me,

As expressed in the something that barely passed nothing

Until I had lifted and loved and set free,

With the mark of my thinking and passion upon it

That makes full immortal, yet timeless my time,

So my all days are one day, and more is not needed,

For nothing's more high than creation sublime.


I live life with my fire, longevity scorn;

What is better than being the reason I'm born?

And to know there's an end day, a last day, a death,

Gives a meaning and purpose to every live breath,

A magnificent present that only life gives

In the moment of moments when joyous pride lives,

Where the world and its everything is only so great

As it loyally leads to my glorious state.

For mine is the Heaven of Selfdom, the throne of mankind,

In the height I have chosen and captured, alone with my mind!



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#1145 B. Royce

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Posted 02 November 2014 - 11:18 PM

My Life, My Will  (Inspired by Brittany Maynard, who has received a death sentence from brain cancer, and who has moved to Oregon where she can have doctor assisted suicide)


I'm terminally ill,

Yet while I live

By my free will

My life I'll take

Before my voice

Hears not my choice

And on I live

A bound mistake.


To vegetate

Won't be my state,---

A mindless thing

Without an "I":,

A bit of flesh

That cannot sing,

But only stare

With dull, blank eye.


I'll terminate

The date of fate

And with my will

Be joyous still

Till my last breath

By my own hand

Is my live death

At my command.


Don't pity me

That my life's short;

Don't argue I

Must not abort.

Above all gods

Or social claim

My mind is mine,

My sacred flame,


And I'll be I

Until I die,

A selfish height

Of mortal might

Whose large last act

Will be that fact

That leaves no doubt

That I'm gone out.


My friends, be glad;

Oh Love, not sad;

Be proud of me

Who lived so free

That I could choose

To win my way

Of full alive

On my last day!



Brian Faulkner

#1146 B. Royce

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Posted 23 November 2014 - 11:20 PM

Thanksgiving Day Blessings


High praise to producers I'm singing today,

High praise for their courses they steadily stay---

Who fashion the fine things by which I do live

And set out to trade and, no, never to give.


Great praise to their effort and thoughtful good sense,

Sure-guided by judgment of hard evidence,

With firm moral strength to do everything right

And push themselves upward to profit's glad height.


My high praise, my great praise, so true in me, strong,

Fills all of my being, bursts out in pure song!

Straight-shooting producers, now stand you up proud,

Receive my life's blessings with heads all unbowed!



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#1147 B. Royce

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Posted 25 November 2014 - 07:15 PM

On Thanksgiving Day


On Thanksgiving Day let all glad men profess

To be thankful for happiest happiness,

To be thankful to that which comes from high pride

To he who has welcomed bright day at his side.


The free air of honesty, fresh and sincere,

The sunshine of actions led open and clear,

The blazed independence of pathways new made

For dreams of the spirit that dares, unafraid---


Yes, these are the virtues that lift happiness

To light up the eyes with a loving caress,

A touch of the glory-of-being on they

Who straddle the barriers placed in their way,


That flows as a blessing on ends just begun,

On those who began them and those have won,

That sees each creator as brother and friend

And celebrates all who strive on without end.


This happiest happiness, it must be earned,

And Thanksgiving Day is for they who have learned

That heights of production are glad hills to climb

No matter if knolls or iced mountains sublime!



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#1148 B. Royce

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Posted 01 December 2014 - 06:54 PM

A Giant Laugh


The sun had broke with all his might

Out of a mount'nous cloud;

The spires of man he did ignite

With gleaming gold so proud.


Each city on the eastern coat

Blazed forth a fiery fount,

While working people stood to boast,

"Our works are works that count!"


Then stormy clouds again rolled back;

Dread darkness stunned the day,

Till lights of man made their attack

And all did shout "Hooray!"


Again the sun so strongly shone,

Thickened again the storm,

While through it all some stood alone,

Laughing to see the norm.


A giant laugh for cloud and sun,

A giant laugh for man;

A laugh of joy for all to come

Since man's great work began!



Brian Faulkner

#1149 B. Royce

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Posted 17 December 2014 - 05:33 PM

Midas Day Boom


Now Midas Day swings round again

With cheering might for happy men.

The bells and smells of Midas-time

Now steer the year's beginning/end

When presents will present their joys

For laughing children, girls and boys,

And all will hear glad Midas' noise

All over this glad town!


Each Midas tree is standing bright

With dangling jewels and sparkling light;

Each Midas sign--the dollar sign---

Is glowing gold with luster fine;

And each live Midas song rings free

With happiness that loves to be

For year-long thriving industry

All over this glad town!


The hills are smacked, the oil fracked,

The profits are paid out and stacked.

Each oil man's un-foiled grin

Declares a king of single win,

And all together strut with pride

Through stores with toys on every side

For nephew, baby, new-made bride,

All over this glad town!


Aroma of the turkey roast,

Aroma of the dark green pine,

Aromas past of mastery's sweat

On persevering faces set,

Combine in mind the hearty boast

That "What I've made is truly mine

And Midas Day is my own get,

All over this glad town!"



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#1150 B. Royce

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Posted 18 December 2014 - 08:35 PM

Young Children's Poems


Winds a-blowing, huff and puff!

Took my hat; I said, "Enough!"

Winds are deaf and winds are dumb;

Now I'm running more than some!


Hat in pocket, glad I stand.

Wind has such a soft light hand

My hand was a thing so strong

I will sing the whole day long!



Orange for breakfast, orange for lunch,

Orange for dinner---oh, too much!

I'll be orange before you know,

Lips and nose and chin a-glow!



Only Me


The snow outside was very deep,

As if the world was fast asleep.

Nothing moved and nothing stirred;

There was no song of happy bird.


The wind was still, the drifts were high;

My house had one un-covered eye,

And from my attic I could see

There was only, only me.



The Ant


I saw an ant a-working hard,

But never heard it pant.

Did not complain of sun or rain;

It never said, "I can't".


It lifted trees and boulders high,

It carried to and fro;

It never said to Nature, "No,

I'll not your strength defy."


For it keeps working very hard,

And never says "I can't".

Does not complain of sun or rain,

This glorious tiny ant.




My Friends


Blows the wind,

But not the sun;

Stars twinkle,

But not the wind.


I can see,

But not the clouds;

Close my eyes,

I still can run.


Branches bend,

Rocks do not;

Neither boils

In the pot.


Wind and trees

Sway together;

I swing stones,

They're my friends.


Dogs don't twinkle,

Cats don't blow;

Horses boil---

Oh no, no, no!


Girls can skip,

And so can stones;

But girls are much

Too big to throw!



Blades of grass are sweet to kiss,

But to eat I'd rather miss.

Roses, too, are nice to touch,

But I'd rather ice for lunch.



Butterflies have flown away;

Only snowflakes come to play.

I can catch them---see!  Right here!

In my hand a little tear.


Brian Faulkner

#1151 B. Royce

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Posted 30 December 2014 - 05:32 PM



Snowflakes swirling oh, so free

And oh, so lightly land;

Your hair, it wears a crown of thorns

That dies away so grand.


For God is not inside your head,

Nor grim-mouthed red-tailed saint,

And foolish prayer lies fully dead

Beneath your red lips' paint.


No angel sits upon your tongue

To still your life-love speech,

Which proves that you have kept you young

Beyond tradition's reach.


True pureness of desire does shine

Upon your throat so fair

And guilty cross has sunk to pine

It could not clasp you there.


Your parents made you go to church,

You knelt, but not in soul;

No ghost was in your mental search,

Your perch was self-control.


Now in the world and on your own

You're more than atheist---

Won lover of this life alone

That sun and cloud have kissed.


Snowflakes swirling oh, so free

And oh, so lightly land;

Your hair, it wears a crown of thorns

That dies away so grand! 



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#1152 B. Royce

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Posted 11 January 2015 - 09:43 PM

The Whole World


I see you in each bird, each flower, each tree;

I feel your arms in wave-crests of the sea;

Your fingers pull my hair in breeze's rush,

Your lips upon my lips in starlight's hush.

The earth beneath my feet---your steady walk;

The searchlight of your gaze---in summer's sun;

The mountains hold your satisfying talk

And all their slopes slant toward me like you run.

I sing your name; deep canyons make more dear

Each loving double syllable I hear.

Imagination draws your face so true

I turn about---and everywhere see you.

But now you're here all being's up and died,

Or else it's you---the whole world at my side!



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#1153 B. Royce

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Posted 06 April 2015 - 04:27 PM

Joy Ascending


The start of Spring is starting,

Each leaf from bud departing;

The rain is pelting the snow that's melting,

Sweet grasses seek the sky!


The heart of life is beating

In lips of love repeating,

"I'm out of lonely now you're my only;

Let's kiss cold pain goodbye!"


And up through all things growing,

And in our knowledge knowing,

Is joy awaking for joyous taking,

And we'll not let it die!


Sheer ecstasy is cleaner

Than dear things near blown greener

And birds out-winging with all their singing

For our love making fly!


In joy of joy ascending

With triumph never ending,

Our love is blessing our joy's caressing

And we'll not let it die!



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#1154 B. Royce

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Posted 27 April 2015 - 05:21 PM

The Secret Petals


At end of day, in dark'ning hours,

When winds are still and closed are flowers,

I sit outside beside the tree

And hear the song you sing to me.


Yet it is not for me you sing,

But for yourself, just practicing;

You don't know I am here at all,

Within the dark, behind the wall.


Behind the wall, beside the tree,

Upon a bench I sit for me,

And take in true the best of you

To carry it the whole night through.


For in my sleep your voice I dream;

I seem to float on your pure stream;

And when I wake in bright'ning hours

I'm overjoyed from hearing flowers.


Sing on, sing on, perfect your tone;

Make each phrase yours, and yours alone.

I'll interrupt you not at all,

Beside low tree, behind dark wall.


Behind the wall, within the night,

I'll guard your spirit's singing light,

Let no one trespass while I'm here,

Let no one mar the bars I hear.


So right, and so complete, so free,

So beautiful, I all but see

The rosy bud that spreads apart

The secret petals of your art.


Sing on, song on, one minute more!

This hour goes so fast before!

Yet I am happy, having heard

Such beauty in each soaring word.



Brian Faulkner

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