Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 122

Memories Make Me Smile

Make your memories while you’re young

In sweetness and in simple joy.

Learn to laugh and run and play

In every action you employ.

 

Moving at the speed of sound

Across a meadow’s open spaces,

No competing – win or lose -

No first or failure in your races.

Only freedom in the moment.

Happy, smiling, friendly faces

Greet you at the frantic finish with

Loving arms and warm embraces.

 

Deep within the far recesses

Lock these treasures in your heart

That you may find and fond recall

When trials beckon every mile.

 

For I am you and you are me

And time will never see us part

Or lose the precious bounty of

The memories that make us smile.

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Finding Bliss

Just a tiny bit of quiet meditation

Brings such peaceful calm distraction

That my heart begins to sing.

In the wake of harsh reaction,

In the midst of everything that is

Moving in my life

I find sweet Spring.

 

All the joy within my soul

Like a gentle flowing river

Nestled deep among the willows

Waving softly in the breeze

As the easy morning air

Brushes feathers on my forehead

And the sounds of nature echo

Like a grand calliope.

 

I could sit right here forever in

This peaceful solitude

Never noticing the metamorphosis

So resolved, so involved,

So replete with gratitude

To be nestled in the yielding arms of

Bliss.

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Detour

Sorry, you can’t come this way.

Didn’t you see the orange sign?

You must find a work-around to

Get to where you want to be.

 

Yes, I know frustration stirs and

Yes, I know it seems unkind

But I am but a messenger, so,

I beg you don’t be mad at me.

 

Must be some good reason for

The way to be under restriction.

Dangers could be lurking that

Require sanctioned interdiction.

 

Might as well just suck it up and

Find a way around this mess,

Thankful for the warning even though

It causes mild distress.

 

There could well be a blessing in

This warning, to be sure.

I suppose I should be thankful

For the warning sign: Detour.

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Five Senses

A deep magenta morning sky,

The warble of a nightingale.

Flavors from my coffee cup

Invade my taste and sense of smell.

The sun lights gentle on my skin,

Satin soft and faintly warm

Assures me with its subtle touch

I am safe and free from harm.

 

Let me meditate a while

Taking every morsel in

To savor softness in each breath

Like soothing strings of a violin.

And when I close my eyes, I see

With sharpened sensitivity

The sights, the smells, the taste, the touch,

The melodies I love so much.

 

Running free through endless meadows

Laughing loud and leaping fences

Dare I pause in retrospect,

Thankful for these awesome senses.

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Yes

Why is yes so often hard to come by

In this troubled world?

In the midst of black and white

So much gray gets in the way

As firm debate from side to side

Sees many a fickle flag unfurled

With flimsy facts that grow in stacks

But feebly flounce on feet of clay.

 

Could not, would not, will not stand

This toe-to-toe embattlement.

Needs and wants abound aplenty

Calling out from every point

As all stand firmly in the right and

I defer to fold my tent

Til common cause and common sense

Unite to purposes conjoint.

 

Tit-for-tat on this or that

Tried and true that stands the test.

Angst and arguments abound

Struggling to get to yes.

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Ebb and Flow

Seems cliché to talk about the

Ebb and flow of ocean tides

As though a secret we must only

Contemplate and take in stride.

 

There are no perfect guarantees,

No sacred universal plan to

Govern all our destinies,

To lead us safely by the hand.

 

Life is filled with peaks and valleys

Joys and sorrows,

Dark and light.

Live today and face tomorrow

With fare to feed the appetite.

 

You shall be my ebb and flow,

My sole companion, tried and true.

Though I may drown in deepest sorrow

You’ll be there to pull me through.

 

And I, for you, shall be a beacon

Staunchly placed upon the shore

To soothe your pain,

To share your bliss

And walk beside you ever more.

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In the Country

Honeysuckle blossoms

Beneath the willow trees

Bring sweet invitation to

The early morning breeze.

The hummingbird, the butterfly

Will soon be on the wing to

Gather nature’s nectar

With the nurturing it brings,

 

And I am naught but witness

As the miracles abound.

With silent awe as recompense 

I cling to every sound.

Alive with every color

My humble eyes can see

I wonder at the wonder of

My gentle company.

 

Nestled deep in darkened wood

The nightbird croons his song.

Though tempted by his sweetness

I dare not sing along.

It would be a sign of disrespect,

A loss of gentle grace.

So, I will nestle in repose

In country’s warm embrace.

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Growing Up Poor

Not a lot of perks or privilege

In the caverns of my humble youth.

We didn’t know we were poor at the time

If you really want to know the truth.

All of the people that we knew

Were living pretty much the same,

Except, of course, those precious few

Who didn’t bother to know our name.

No caviar on our daily buffet,

No crepes or kabobs were ever seen.

But hunger was never an issue as long as

We had cornbread, taters and beans.

 

The clothes on our backs?

Some were hand-me-downs

Garnered from relatives, neighbors and friends.

We didn’t consider it charity,

Just a kindly means to a worthwhile end.

Through work or play we ended each day

Sleeping each night in a creaky bed

Snuggled so deep under Mom’s hand-stitched quilts,

Thankful to have a roof over our heads.

 

Hardscrabble country life,

Just getting along.

Sundays we ride the pews

To sweet Gospel songs.
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Everybody Has the Best Mom

“My Mom is the best Mom ever,”

Said everyone in the history of time.

Every adjective and superlative

From phenomenal to sublime is

Tossed in reverent wonder to

Her angelic composure,

And she must seem a patron saint

To everyone who knows her.

 

It isn’t hard to understand

Why moms are always so revered,

Their swift approval needed

And her retribution feared.

The very first to stroke your brow,

To tell you that,” I love you.”

Just knowing she will always be

And put no one above her.

 

No matter who walks through our life

Or what flag is unfurled,

It is agreed

                    That we all have

The best Mom in the world.

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Hum

I hum when I am happy.

I hum when I am filled with dread.

I hum when I forget the words

But the tune keeps dancing in my head.

 

The strum of humming on my pallet

Lightly strokes the passage walls

To soothe my soul with gentle peace

And waste all worries, great and small.

 

A myriad of playful ditties

Waltz along in melodies from

Long-neglected memories

Nested in a distant past.

 

Or could it be my playful mind

Constructs a three-part harmony

That wafts but briefly through the air

And exits just as fast.

 

No matter.

It is just a game.

A tidbit on the tip of time,

An elephant who has no name,

The perfect paradigm

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