My Mind

Personal website of M.G. Daniel. Sharing poetry, my writings, snippets from my life and whatever's on my mind.

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Spiritus Mundi and the Zeitgeist

Last night, a friend posed a question to me – on the subject of the Manchester Arena bombing: When & how will it end? I said I had been asking the same. There’s always been war and terror and maybe the historians can clarify if we’ve ever had anything like today’s strain of terrorist attacks and regime-change wars. Every time I think of my friend’s question, my mind goes to this poem:


Read full poem here.

By the way, Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, his first novel, whose title is a line from Yeats’ famous poem, remains my personal most re-read book and favourite read of all time.

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Rescued Poems

I’m doing this reblog because, well, it’s almost June 1, one year later and I need an in-my-face reminder that I did plan to work on that work-in-progress. I now know why I rescued it last year; it rescued me.

My Mind

Love Unlike None

tell all my distractions and their demons

go to hell what i would do for you not even

i can’t tell because i do not know it

with no boundaries and no shame

no limits or coy young lovers game not

a furtive glance thrown behind the shoulder

to measure the load of love its carried blame it has no name

what i would do for you is whatever i cannot

do or have not done everything and anything

something with nothing that anyone has done before

for no one nor with everyone

I was feeling overwhelmed by the pile of work in progress I  accumulated over the years and started to toss scribbles I no longer felt any emotional connection to. This writing above — started so long ago I have forgotten where it came from and where I intended taking it. I may have had more verses in…

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A String of F Words (that mean fondness)

By M.G. Daniel

(When in doubt about meaning, stay away from concluding, says moi. When in doubt, stay out.)


Loves, let us learn to love with love – and freedom, not with fear or fights or fisticuffs or threats or throwing shade or fuming (about posts on social media for example), thinking we can truly know the message or meaning of another’s thoughts. Loves, love. Not with constant finger-pointing, fright or festering fury, forcing famines of affection, or forgetting our form, for it is forever Love. Loves, will we find fidelity if we go fast and too furious fanning flames of fantastical fables in the fluttering green eyes of faithful fiends, falling into furrows flailing and fixing failures, or furthermore fathering the flight to fame and fortune of fillies fleecing the folly of forsaking, the fated and the fêted:
Fulsome fools
The flight of the foraging, flapping about your foyer, forging peace, fomenting fun.

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Paradise lost

Even more sorry hearing this news. I have fond memories of Manchester; now musing on how, when our world has supposedly shrunk so much and our lives have become so much more integrated, we have come to know so much loathing of the other.