Home » Poems » Best » Danny Derden » Best Danny Derden Poems

Best Poems Written by Danny Derden

Below are the all-time best Danny Derden poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Danny Derden Poem

I Saw A Man Today

I saw a Man today as he walked the hill
Tears and drops of blood did equal spill
From brutally torn flesh and eyes of pain
I saw a Man today my inadequate refrain

I saw a Man today unjustly convicted
His trial was short and clearly scripted
The verdict assured without any proof
I saw a Man today who spoke only truth

I saw a Man today abandoned by friends
Who claimed to be strangers by pretends
Before the cock crowed denying Him thrice
I saw a Man today and words cannot suffice

On a hill called the skull I saw a Man today
‘Father, forgive them’, is what I heard Him say
Through nails and a crown of thorns grace He sought
I saw a Man today the world’s debt He bought

For I saw a Man today more innocent than me
Take up my sentence while I just walked free
He bore the crucifixion cross in my place
I saw a Man today, I looked upon His face

I saw a Man today and He saw into my heart
And took away the darkness and gave me a new start
He broke the chains that bound tighter than the jail
I saw a Man today whose blood tore the veil

I saw a Man today and He died upon that cross
Sacrificed for me and all the world’s lost
He could have called a heavenly army
But I saw a Man today who chose to die for me

Three days past I saw that Man die upon the beam
A death that changed my path it would so seem
And now before His empty tomb an angel doth stand
Why seek you in this place of death The Living Man?

Details | Danny Derden Poem

This Damn Song

All I want in this whole world is someone to love,
Someone to hold, to cherish, to dream of.
All I need is someone to comfort me—
To stand by my side, to help set me free.

Someone to talk to, to whisper things to,
Someone, my dear… someone like you.

Someone who'll love me, and I’ll love them back,
Someone who’s faithful, not someone I lack.
Someone—oh someone—help me, I pray…
Someone who’ll love me forever and a day.

Someone, please—ask her not to leave,
For without her, my life is a sieve.
Someone, oh someone, hear my cry,
And tell the girl I love her—the one who said goodbye.

Someone, please someone, tell her I’ll wait—
Wait for her return, no matter how late.
I’ll wait here forever—I don’t care how long—
Because she’s the reason I wrote this damn song.

Yes, she’s the reason I wrote this damn song.
She’s the only reason I wrote this damn song.

Details | Danny Derden Poem

The Face In The Mirror

Visage stark and eyes of steel
He shares my thoughts and what I feel
And seems to know more than I’ve known
The face in the mirror sees through me.

He knows my faults, my secret sins
And bears no mercy without or within
Judgement swift cuts to the bone
The face in the mirror weighs me

Dreams and goals, schemes and plans
He shatters with a sneering glance
And his silence is the only tone
The face in the mirror knows me

He measures my worth with soulless stare
And soundlessly he lays me bare
Worthless his lips appear to moan
The face in the mirror shows me

He finds me lacking and less each day
Though why so harsh he will not say
Just a loathing low hushed groan
The face in the mirror wounds me

His disregard so plain and clear
He knows my pain and stokes my fear
His twisted lips set the tone
The face in the mirror grieves me

He arbitrates my very life
Slashes my soul with psychic knife
His cruelty hard as stone
The face in the mirror hates me

No escape and no reprieve
This simulacrum will never leave
His torment won’t let me alone
The face in the mirror is me

Details | Danny Derden Poem

Lawn Care

The sun is high in the summer sky
And no clouds to be seen
The grass is high neath the summer sky
And growing tall and green
The mower starts with growling roar
And cuts through swaths of fescue
This mowing proves a sweaty chore
And soon I beg for rescue
My lawn’s expanse appears to grow
The longer that I labor
Seems to expand as I cut each row
The mower becomes my sabre
And I a true knight dueling a foe
Who laughs at my every advance
He stands unyielding before each blow
And about the green our martial dance
With never a sign of surrender
The fight goes on between us two
Which shall prove to be the pretender
Victory comes with the aim that’s true
And at last my foe lies low
Beneath the heel of the victor
Yet even now it grows
Who shall win next Saturday?
Sadly there is no predictor

Details | Danny Derden Poem

The Other Side of the Pillow

In the dark of night, where dreams bear bloom,
and silence reigns in my shadowed room,
my pillow waits, serene, composed,
awaiting my sleepy head to doze.

Beneath my head it yields its form,
to cradle my crown from day’s storm,
and offer a sweet night’s repose,
yet pillow’s thoughts, who really knows?

She seems so sweet, pretends to care,
yet every night disturbs my hair,
and furthermore she gets so heated,
and once again my sleep is cheated,

by the pillow sweaty and hot,
yet the other side is simply not,
cool and perfect, waiting to bless,
my fevered brow with its caress,

and lull me back to sleepful bliss,
with its satin smooth cool kiss,
again I drift to snooze and sleep,
but pillow’s warmth begins to creep,

to wake me once again at night,
such a struggle, such a fight,
to turn again to the other side,
the cool oasis tries to hide,

but the pillow I will flip and turn,
for the cool side I do so yearn,
yet it defeats my every twist,
forgotten now how cool she kissed,

our affair becomes a struggle,
no longer does she like to snuggle,
instead a smothering suffocation,
to turn and flip without cessation,

throughout the night, hours endless,
once lovers, now friendless,
oh cool side, where can you be?
I need you now, can’t you see?

Aloof, apart she still remains,
my willpower slowly drains,
till fevered dreams draw me down,
and make of me once more her clown,

fitful sleep upon her breast,
though I get but little rest,
morning creeps with amber hue,
the night forgotten, as such things do,

and come again time for slumber,
pillow knows she has my number,
and beckons me come lie with her,
promising bliss, rapture, and more,

such a tease my mistress pillow,
I bend to her will just like a willow,
and find myself in her clutches cool,
I promise her this time not to drool.

Details | Danny Derden Poem

Together We'll Run

Let’s give it one more go—
Don’t let a good thing die so fast.
Don’t let one moment bring us down;
Together, we can beat the past.

Let’s try again—maybe we’ll make it.
But if we don’t,
I promise you this:
I won’t try to fake it.

If you leave me now,
I won’t last another hour.
I can’t go on living
If your sweet love turns sour.

Together we will stand—
Apart, I will fall.
Together we can run—
Alone, I’ll only crawl.

So—

Let’s give it one more go.
Don’t let a good thing die so fast.
Don’t let one moment bring us down.
Together, we will beat the past.

Together we will stand—
Apart, I will fall.

Details | Danny Derden Poem

Ode to the Voice I Never Wanted to Hear

Oh, the joy of telemarketers,
Who call you up without a care,
With offers they believe are clever,
But really just provoke despair.

They call with grand insurance plans,
Covid kits and credit schemes,
As if I’m some prized target
For their automated dreams.

“End-of-life” expense protection —
Oh, what a cheery nightly theme!
I nod along sarcastically
Inside my caller-haunted dreams.

And then there’s Medicare, of course,
A topic I now know too well,
Yet still they bring fresh nonsense
With each new tale they sell.

They ring at noon, at dawn, at dusk,
And even in the dead of night,
It seems they’ve sworn a solemn vow
To haunt me till I lose the fight.

So here’s my ode to all of you
Who call with no remorse or thought:
If you don’t cease this madness soon,
I’ll scream until my brain is shot.

Your calls are cruel and unwanted,
And frankly, they just make me sick.
So do the world a service now —
And kindly stop being a prick.

Details | Danny Derden Poem

When It Counts

Not now
Too busy
Much to do
Lot on my plate
Later
Later
Later
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe next week
Maybe on the weekend
Maybe if I can find the time
Later
Later
Later
Got important things to do
Gotta concentrate
Gotta focus
Got too much going on
Later
Later
Later
When there’s time
When I get a minute
When I can
When I have the energy
Later
Later
Later
I’ll be there when it matters
When it’s important
When it counts
You can depend on me!
Later.

Details | Danny Derden Poem

A Map of Quiet Fires

Her skin drinks light like rivers take rain,
each dappled edge and sun-struck curve,
a landscape under my hands, soft yet severe,
where desire meets the edge of breath.
Fingers trace the small hollows of her hip,
catching sunlight in each soft valley,
dipping, trembling, as if they might slip
into some dark, endless tenderness.
She is a map of quiet fires,
a fever I can barely hold.
I find her pulse in the hush of thighs,
the places where words lose themselves.
My mouth opens to meet her skin,
each kiss a tender bruise of ache,
pressed and perfect, lush as wine
that fills, that floods, till reason splits.
We break where passion's blinding flares,
colliding in waves of sweet surrender,
so fierce the ache it stings like glass,
we drink of each other, ravenous, undone.
In the silence after, breath upon breath,
her skin still glows with sunlit trace,
and I am carved by the strength of her
in places I never knew could break.

Details | Danny Derden Poem

Guy De Vere, Not So Sincere

After Lenore, by Edgar Allan Poe

Broken—yes—the golden-locked and beautiful Lenore,
Gone from us forevermore, to grace our eyes no more.
And thou, De Vere, who scornful stands with hollow, cold disdain—
It’s clear to all, thy mournful cries are pitiful and vain.
Let the exequy commence! Let sorrow find its voice,
While thou, false mourner, face thy fate—be judged for thy dark choice.
A dirge for golden Lenore... a sentence for thy choice.

Wretched art thou—who dared to love, yet sowed death’s bitter seed,
For ‘twas her gold you hungered for, and slew her out of greed.
How shall the charges now be read? What scaffold shall we raise?
By us—the wretched throng—who cry for justice in these days.
For her sweet death lies not with fate, but thee who bears bloodguilt.

Peccabilis—yes, thou art! And parricida still,
For murder foul, thy cursed soul we doom to deepest hell.
Fair Lenore lies cold and low by her false lover’s hand,
Who slew his bride for avarice, and hungered for her land.
And now she sleeps beneath the soil, while thou dost breathe and lie,
With golden light upon her hair—but death within her eye.
The light remains upon her locks—yet thou didst let her die.

Conticent! Beastly ruffian—thy lies shall mask no more,
The cry went up, the charge is set: blood calls from every door.
Let the noose be drawn to avenge Lenore’s sweet soul,
And when thy breath is choked away, we’ll cast thee in a hole.
The fiends below await thy shade to feast upon thy boast,
While Lenore ascends in light to join the heavenly host.
For grief thou sowed when death thou wrought—
And now thy soul shall roast.