Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 101

Black Stallion – Gray Fox

Crystalline majesty abounds 

As black flanks and silver heels

Launch lightening to a crescent moon.

While crazed eyes of the willful beast

Gaze far beyond the mountaintop.

Who can tame him?

Who will name him?

Who dares blame his stubborn way?

Staunchly defiant.

Non-compliant,

Free to run another day.

 

Gray fox slips behind the screen of

Forest foliage stealthily, so many

Predators farther up the chain,

Courage effaced by the need for survival, 

Cunning and quickness the tools of his trade.

So many enemies

Akin to infinity

Wary and willing to hide.

Weary at end of day,

Wrestling to find a way,

Thankful to simply survive.

 

Black stallion – gray fox,

Creatures of Eden. Both

Grateful for being alive.

 

That Old Bucket List

What harm to dream?

To laugh?

To languish in

A world of fantasies

With all the possibilities?

Would fate be so unkind

Or thus inclined

To sore deny that piece of the pie

And thus, fulfill the thrill

Of bother be, the one

That holds the quiet key to

Peace of mind.

 

The list is quite long,

But will can be strong

So that if you insist

And enlist to persist

Good fortune will knock

With the key to unlock

Every portal confined in

The back of my mind,

And bring to fruition

That old bucket list.

 

Cousin Arthur – A Pain in the…

You cause me so much pain,

Vile bane of age

And foe of innocence,

You slave me to a curse

Of limitations I can scarce abide.

What once was snap

And quickly cinched

Is now a labor for the young

As I need only wait and watch

As though my hands were tied.

 

At least my mind maintains its bloom,

Though not as quick in raillery,

My inner sage has lost its rage

In favor of profundity.

But Arthur and his cousins foul:

Tendon, Bursa and Fasci,

Along with their accomplices

Breed deep and low and nasty.

 

I yield not to this terrorist

Nor any of his lot,

And if the bane resides in pain,

I’ll take all that he’s got.

 

Bingo Wednesday

Many, plenty, busy battles brew

To fuel a hectic week.

Often chiming, seldom rhyming,

Finding the right words to speak.

Washday Thursday,

Friday’s fury,

Shopping waits for Saturday.

Sunday worship, family dinners,

Monday morning bills to pay.

Tuesday finds no time for respite

Even though one seeks release.

Only Wednesday offers solace.

Bingo Wednesday

Brings sweet peace.

 

How can chaos bring such pleasure?

How can aggravation serve to

Soothe and salvage frantic frenzy,

Knowing dwindling vim and verve?

Hard to say where peace might muster.

It’s temporary anyway.

All I know is bingo Wednesday

Was born to chase all cares away.

 

A Senior Moment – or Two

There are no words,

No understated understanding,

No common sense or rule of reason

Lets me know the reason why

Such fits of memory, or its lack,

Should hack my often-pristine thoughts

To cause a fatal gap so long and wide.

 

I see, and yet my eyes are blind.

I hear but echoes in my mind.

I feel with fingers disinclined.

I taste the waste of bitter wine.

The favored savors I once knew

That graced the air with such ado

Are faded like the morning dew

To places I may ne’er pursue.

 

Oh, angst of age,

Where peace should dwell,

Sad gnawing, nagging beast from Hell,

Lost logic bids a bold adieu

To have a moment, maybe two.

 

Distinguished Gentleman

“I love that little touch of gray,”

Her eyes would speak much more than words.

Her pouty lips would curl to kiss,

“You know, I gave you every one.”

And as she ran her fingers through the

Thinning curls, her eyes’ embrace

Was more than meager tenderness.

It was our song, as yet unsung.

 

She, my humble lady fair,

Aware of all my faults and flaws,

My better equal in all tasks,

My conscience when decisions weigh.

And I, her knight in dusty armor,

Laying roses at her feet,

Praying that tomorrow grants this

Happiness for one more day.

 

Bold distinguished gentleman that I

Aspire to always be,

Smoldering embers in my heart

Keep her in my memory.

 

Old Photos

Old photos are the best,

Especially when they bring back memories

Long forgotten, tucked away

In golden vaults like precious jewels.

Thirty-fives and Polaroids

Passed around to aging eyes

Filling hearts with happy tears

Of days before we learned the rules.

 

Grandpa’s ’57 Ford of unknown color.

Who can tell? Aunt Nellie shot in

Black and white.

She hadn’t switched to color yet.

But Grandpop’s pride was evident

As he put many happy smiles

On gleeful faces, windblown traces,

Fleeting times with no regrets.

 

Taking just a modicum of

Time and space to reminisce

Bygone days bereft of sorrow,

No time or tears to second guess.

 

Going Home

They say you can’t go home again after

Time has stolen all your

Childhood memories from bygone days.

Replacing them instead with whiffs of

Progress and regression,

Finding old familiar haunts

Lost within a maze.

 

Old friends, some still treading there,

(Others long and far away)

Flashing forlorn withered faces

Painted with synthetic smiles.

Slapping thighs as they remember

Youthful tanned exuberance of

How they got from there to here.

“Won’t you sit and stay a while.”

 

Sorry that I cannot tarry,

Tempting as the thought may be.

But I have other worlds to conquer,

Other realms to search and roam.

Chance that when my trek is over

And my feet need firmer ground

Time proclaims my travels finished

And will find me going home.

 

I Love you. Did I Say I love you?

Sweet, yet bittersweet the words

Whispered, almost breathless with

Devotion and assurance.

Searching for response in kind that

She knew was sure to come as does

An echo in an empty hallway tenderly return.

She didn’t even realize those

Same three words had passed her lips

But moments since

And I had reassured her that

I loved her, too.

 

What I said, but had not said,

That I would run through raging fire

If that was what she asked of me,

That I would stand beside her

If the plagues of Hell rained on our heads.

 

What she said, but had not said,

That she would walk me hand in hand

Down every pathway to the end,

To guide me with her shining star

And be my rainbow’s pot of gold.

 

“I love you. Did I say I love you?”

Yes, my love.

You did.

 

Short-Term Memory

I walked in here for something, I swear.

Now, wait. Just give me a moment.

I was sitting in there when

A thought pierced the air

Like the stealth clamor from an informant.

 

It seems like a plot from

A gaslight adventure,

Some frivolous misguided scam,

That I should make haste

And my time be a waste when

I’m not even sure where I am.

 

It plagues me no end

That my mind is no friend

When the details elude and evade.

And I wonder how long

I can keep going wrong

Til the piper at last must be paid.

 

This short-term failure, it comes and it goes,

Fading in, fading out, fade away.

So, I think A to Z

Til it comes back to me

And I can get on with my day.