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Best Poems Written by Daniel Day

Below are the all-time best Daniel Day poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Taxi Driver

a face in the night
who's gaze flickers
to and fro
the road ahead
and behind
then to the boy and girl
drunk or high
but most certain
they are intoxicated and
so he takes a right
into a darker province
of the night.

heart of darkness, protector of humanity – has stopped beating.

lining the streets
missing only cards
and orange jumpsuits
the taxi driver sees,
a man and his dog
tied to a leash
for a moment he thought
that it was a boy he saw
on two legs
trying to keep up
or get away
from the imposter. 
he leans over
and in the compartment
he finds;
his knife
his pistol with
whip and 
drags them out of the
backseat
where even
the ants don't scurry
to where bits of meat
are discarded on the ground
by then to late.
And the boy start's to
laugh
so does the girl
and they all are now
laughing and singing
and dancing and running
and crying and hopping
jumping 
arms swaying
and this chorus
keys of crys
are ended by two long notes
one d sharp
the other d flat.

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Posse's

savages. arms muscular
and tatooed - 
a radio, wine bottle and
cross,
and they've tried to wash them
clean
but failed,
to hide the hideous acts
of their past
and to predict
those they have yet to commit.

thieves. shadows clingining
from wall to door, 
who's reflections
in the glass eyes of
their victim
recall to mind 
a young man
dark hair
dark eyes. 
a man just like yourself or 
i.
who blends into 
the anymonity of 
the night.

pimps. in suits with
bow ties and crooked smiles and
walking canes too,
trampling over hookers
bloody and bruised.
smeered lipstick
they assure me,
but i know better.
have seen all the
limps and scars
far gone minds
smoking in the backs of bars.

and she weeps on
us all and
i weep with her.
i swear
each night
there's one less star in the sky.

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Jingle

the bell tolls
after the musics
died down
screaming at first
then echoes
now trapped
in the hosts skull
as he waves his guests away and
retires to the lobby
turns on the radio
dial twisted
all the way up
to drown the
bell's 
stuck
in 
his 
head.

Details | Daniel Day Poem

Dog Dreams

the dog dreams about
chasing cars
and sniffing asses
and humping, standing up
and standing up
on two legs
and eating all day
and lying on the old
couch in the backyard
chasing balls and bringing
them back
and sighing
when the little prick
throws it out of place
then leaving the back yard
to go for a walk
sniff some asses
of people it has never met before
but knows
now
what they had to eat
and if they smoke
a dog can tell
and when the dog wakes up
it does all the things
which it dreams.
to bad
it cannot remember the day before.

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Mating Season

somewhere, hiding 
in the derelict
town
a blue bird sings
a mating call
and is answered by
the flap of wings
embracing and dark
suffocating arms
of a raven
answered her call
who mounts her. 

and come nine weeks

she gives birth
to nine chicks.
one has blue eyes
the other green
one black
like marbles
reflect the faces
of his brothers'
and sisters'
long beaks'
bent noses
and feathers 
a mix of water
and black ink.

nestled in their
cots
of twigs
leaves
the mother leaves them
where they play
with the head
of one of their siblings
left for dead.

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Taxi Driver Two

somehwhere mussorgsky's playing

whilst the taxi driver's
cruising
looking
for no particular
soul this night

maybe on the car radio
in his head

someplace people
are dancing
daintly little
creatures with
hair down to their 
shoulders
cutting the air
inbetween time
and the clock ticks
in the taxi driver's
mind
and he sees
two of those dancers
leave the door
to a building
whos face
smiles with delight

hailed
like an empreror

whilst rome burnt
the taxi driver
could swear
in the back of his 
mind
alligator province
that he heard nero fiddling
away
right
down to the
charred bones. 

the fare was 49.90
said farewwell 
and slept
not at all.

Details | Daniel Day Poem

Retettet

in my poems
violence, pimps, savages, thieves, taxi drivers, bastard birds and dogs that dream whilst circuses in lnd. avn set up shop.
i though I knew it all
but i was mistaken.
whilst playng pool with my friend
and losing badly
whilst john counted money
in the back
and tom answered telephones
retettetet 
i saw - 
a man die
beheaded
not quick
the other
followed suit
and felt
uncomfortable at 
first but
then fell
into the strangers bed
who'm he knew
all at once
to be true
and not just
something
he heard on the news.

“they deserved it mate.”
“bloody hell, not like that.”
“if it was me I'd do the same.”
and I left
then
walked out
into the night
and wondered
why?
why not?
why bother.

Details | Daniel Day Poem

Track No 69

he wears a leather jacket
with buttons lost their shine
and rolling stones, jimi hendrix
kool and the gang
but he can't sing them
no more
oh, baby
no more.

scabby fingers
chipped away
by taut chords
now slack
no longer
quick
or 
any rythme
to 
them.

and he can't
make music like he used to
any more nor
thrust his hips
so throws his guitar
around his neck
kicks the stool
and waits
for the notes
to 
spring
oh, baby, how he sings.