Excerpt for Dark by , available in its entirety at Smashwords


Poetry Compilation

By P. J. Daniels

Copyright 2019 P. J. Daniels

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


End Note

Other Books

Connect with P. J. Daniels


Winter is not marked by temperature,

Or snow, or even shortened days.

Winter is an inner chill, not outer,

A weight, dragging down the heat,

Of a burning summer soul.

It is wrestling with the tongues of flame,

And binding them until you have a grey silhouette,

Instead of a human standing in your place,

Wearing your clothes, eating your food.

You go about your daily routine for months,

Without realizing that all colour has left the world,

Until one day, you are preparing for work,

And you hear the song of a spring bird.

The melting of the snow means nothing,

But the sounds of life, moving about,

Break the seals of Winter, and the colour returns.

The inner fire is released from its prison,

Dancing and cheering with joy,

But the pattern always repeats,

For the time will come,

For Winter to bind it once more.


I follow a black road,

In the dead of night,

The world is frozen,

But the road glistens,

From melted snow,

The moonlight shines on my path,

Lighting my way,

I see footprints heading off,

In a different direction,

But I keep following this road,

Not knowing where it will take me,

But I follow it instinctually.


Life is like a poker game,

It goes with what you're dealt,

Some people get a lot of diamonds,

Some people get a pair,

You may see a king or queen,

You might even catch a ten,

Some play the straight,

Others want a full house,

But some just don't care what they get,

As long as they're dealt one heart.


Walking down a fading path,

A road with no signs,

The road disappears as you move,

Before you know it, the road is gone,

You float, numbed by the nothingness,

Headed nowhere, you have no direction, no purpose,

Time passes, but it has no meaning,

A simple ticking inside your head,

Reminding you when a door of escape would appear.


As my eyes close,

A picture is painted behind my eyelids,

A pain builds and explodes,

Sleep is fleeting,

Life lacks meaning,

A moment passes,

The picture moves to a memory,

The memory moves to a heartbeat,

Every mistake is acted out in full clarity,

Every moment replayed to the tune of regret,

Nothing is held back,

Nothing is left out,

The picture freezes on a constant thought,

Sleep refuses to call,

I open my eyes.


You don't need a topic,

To write a good rhyme,

You don't need a notepad,

Or a pen, with lots of time,

All that you need,

To write a good rhyme,

Is a free flowing mind,

For a moment in time.


An impossibility is before me,

As I struggle for control,

A mission that always ends badly,

And takes its mental toll,

I wrestle with my vocal chords,

But my tongue pushes me aside,

Every firm attempt I make,

Is quickly denied,

Can a mind control itself?

I found is true today,

For when I try to take control,

My mind has lots to say,

In fact, my mind says way too much,

Not much is actual sense,

It just throws it’s words and keeps control,

Using words to build its fence,

A battering ram can’t break its wall,

Its gate is strong and tight,

A ladder I climb with sword in hand,

I’m ready for the fight,

But every battle that is waged,

Is lost before the start,

For when you are fighting yourself,

You can never aim for the heart.


How does one define the beauty of a flower?

Is it the colour that causes you to reach out and pluck it?

When is a flower most beautiful? What hour?

Can others compare to the rose?

What feature makes you want to reach out and take that flower?

Is its scent enough to make one overlook it's thorns?

Would you still enjoy the rose if its scent was sour?

Do you find beauty in every petal?

Do you know its true power?

Purchase this book or download sample versions for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-6 show above.)