Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 103

Take it from Here

Every time one road comes to end

Decisions must be made.

Left or right or turn around;

There is no straight ahead.

Direction then must be considered,

Though the line be grayed

With the nagging fear and lagging doubt

That fills a heart with dread.

Feel it beat with palpitating

Syncopated chorus.

See the muddled mesh that quells

The rhythm of regret.

None can truly know the

Fettered fate that lies before us.

Services must render before

We can pay the debt.

So we yield to compromise

And not to doubt or fear.

The rest is up to you, my friend

To set your course from here.

 

Teddy Bear Tales

Teddy went walking in deep forest green

Where sun never touches the earth,

Following pathways others before

Had blazed through bramble and brush,

Capturing songs falling gently from treetops,

Feasting on every note.

Watching the woodlanders thrive in their frolic,

Nary a one in a rush.

Ah, but the evil that lurks in the shadows,

Covert, in corners unseen,

Lying in wait for poor unsuspectings,

Iron-like jaws meant to crush.

Warning? Fair warning was given to you,

My cute little teddy bear friend.

You knew the caveats and the rewards.

Nobody gave you a push.

Now everyone stands at the edge of the forest,

No one dare enter its fold.

Waiting for you. Praying for you.

Fearing the worst from the hush.

 

Broke the Mold

Praise could never do you justice.

Monuments could not compete to

Overshadow your compassion,

Jar the cradle of your soul.

 

Fill the air with songs of joy

From a heart that lifts with ease

Every heavy burden cast,

Every levy, every toll.

 

Keeping sights set on horizons

With a star to guide the night.

Ever constant, moving forward,

Always conscious of your goal.

 

Healing hands reach ever skyward

Touching angels where they sleep.

Heaven must be missing one.

When God made you, He broke the mold.

 

Dressed and Ready

Here I sit dressed and ready

Like so many times before.

Waiting oh, so patiently

For someone to appear.

Maybe I should go ahead and

Just walk out that door, or

Maybe I should get a cattle prod

To get your butt in gear.

Are we destined once again

To make our entrance late?

Burdened with apology as

We walk through the door.

Is it karma? Destiny?

Or is it simply fate

That wears as thin as onion skin

And smells down to the core?

Just once if you would still my fears

‘Twould make my nerves unsteady,

Were I the one to come downstairs 

And find you dressed and ready.

 

Grace

Fondest extension of delicate hands

Beckoning comfort to deep-seeded sorrow,

Urging the slightest upward furl to

Lips whose edges feel gravity’s strain.

Making an entrance so unpretentious that

Everyone notices. Every eye focuses.

All wish to follow footstep by footstep,

Washed in the whispers of sweet gentle rain.

Welcoming wisdom alive and awake in

Eyes holding steadfast to every word.

Spellbound to detail, harboring comfort

Even in silence, emotion unspared.

Leaving us knowing that we are the better

Feeling the presence for even a moment,

Alive with the knowledge that some unknown presence

Lingers still from someone who dared.

Grace be a parent to

All who will follow the

Perfect example of

One who cared.

 

Bad Company

When did you crawl back to town?

With side winding slithering and serpentine tongue

Probing the air to seek out advantage

And steal it from unsuspecting souls.

We’d hoped that you had found greener fields

To lie in wait, stalk your prey.

Much more comfort knowing that

Your influence was miles away.

Far too many young minds here

To emulate your wretched ways,

To try and reap success by

Seeking your misguided goals.

We must excommunicate

To rid us your bad company,

Make our world a safer place,

A better place to be.

 

Pass the Biscuits, Please

Early morning riser to

The sweet aroma,

Coffee percolating in a

Metal pot atop the stove;

Black gold liquid for the soul.

Bacon sizzles on the grill

As it shrinks down to perfection,

Tempting cheaters who can’t wait

To steal a morsel,

Then another.

Hand-rolled dough

Pinched and patted,

Placed in rows by loving hands.

Nursed to life to breathe

Sweet buttered air,

Set lightly on the table.

Called to order now.

Eggs and gravy gently tease,

But contentment waits for no one.

Someone pass the biscuits, please.

 

Workout

Why these bilious bilgy beads of

Salty soakings from each pore?

Why this hurried hapless heartbeat

Racing rapid, run amok?

Footfalls flailing furious with

Rapid repetitious rote in

Harpsichordial harmony

Over, under, up and out.

Breath becomes belabored as the

Will to win the wayward war

Runs its raucous ragtag ranting

Through a muted melted mind.

And just before I bound into the

Doldrums of deflation

I carefully consider

Ne’er to do this deed again.

 

Flying

Oh, to have the wings of eagles

Climbing wind drifts to the sun,

Riding free on rising currents

Wrapped in pinwheel circling.

Looking down on my dominion,

Watching where the rivers run.

Every move of every creature

Open to my scrutiny.

Dare to keep me on the ground when

Clouds can be my fertile soil.

Beg the sun to preen my feathers

With its purifying light.

Weep not if I drift forever,

Lost to sweet oblivion.

Comfort that I’m lost in freedom

Where no harm can touch my soul.

 

My Heart

It’s just a muscle, is it not?

A simple pump

Ticking, tocking like a clock

In perfect perpetuity

Striving for infinity.

Cannot miss a single beat

Without disturbing nature’s force.

Rhythmic cadence, drum and fife,

Briskly marching, breathing life

Without remembrance or remorse.

 

More than simple mechanism,

My heartbeat is ever true.

Pure in essence,

Lodged in passion,

Constant, for

My heart is you.