Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 123

A Quiet Place

And all I want is a quiet place

Where harmony resides,

Where passions melt to empathy

And kindness never dies.

Nestled in this humble space

Away from prying eyes

To find the golden apogee

That haunts the starlit skies.

 

You may long for busy bees

Abuzz around a hectic hive

With regal queen and followers

Who work to help the dream survive,

To reap the honey drenched in gold

So all may know,

So all survive to

Taste the kiss and know the bliss

Of how it is to feel alive.

 

Now, age has softened my resolve

Revealing where the truth abides

And all I want is a quiet place

Where harmony resides.

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Let’s Keep it Going

What have we learned through

All of these trials?

Are we better or

Worse or

The same?

Are we wiser in deliberations and

Consideration of folly and fame?

 

Will tomorrow show promise or

Will doubting Thomas step up to

Dash hope for the obvious truth?

Shall I tell you a story of

Victory’s glory with all of

The vigor of passionate youth?

 

That passion whose fire betrays subtlety

Is not easily banked or subdued,

That rises from embers on wings of

The Phoenix

Alive, revived and renewed.

We are but a moment…

Though ages it seems.

Forever tomorrow

In this world of dreams.

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Music

Soothing… rousing… reveling…

Musing, amusing, uplifting or sad.

Music is the mood,

The moment,

Music is the moving

Lilting language of simplicity.

Lyrical and loving,

Loud and luminescent,

Teasing time with tentacles

Of tasty, measured morsels

Hastening the heartbeat with

A frightening flame of frenzy

Dancing to the deep delight of

Mirthful melody.

Lift me up, sweet music,

When troubles labor at my door.

Fill my heart with gladness when

Life’s sadness beckons me.

Dance with me your winsome waltz

To fill the world with gladness.

Please my soul and make me whole

With treasures from your vaults.

 

Music… the sweet bread of life,

Come feed my weary soul.

Be my comfort. You are

What I need to make me whole.
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Now

Planning for the future is

Always sound advice,

Even though those plans may run awry.

Things happen as events unfold,

Circumstances change with

The mournful often left to wonder why.

But tomorrow hasn’t happened yet,

In truth, it never will,

And yesterday is a fallow field

With furrows left to till.

Only one place left to be,

Though I may not know how.

Father Time abandons me

As I find myself in now.

Now is where I need reside,

Now is all we have.

Now can slip so easily away.

Now cannot be vilified

Or broken into this or that

Like some poor potters’ mound of molded clay.

 

You may want and wish and plan

Or mourn the past with sad regret.

Muddle if you must in musings but

Live for now.

It’s all you get. 

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Finding Tomorrow

Where do you live, my fine fettled friend?

Why can I never find your domicile?

It has been said you don’t really exist,

That you hide in the mist

Of some fantasy isle

Filled with the drama of Avalon’s dreams

To give hope new cause,

To let time run astray.

Dashing ahead while today is on pause

I reach out to touch but

You just run away.

 

Whatever the truth

(As truth may be told)

Whatever the ransom that

Needs to be paid,

I swear I will find you

To garner your gold,

Quaff your sweet wine and

Rest in your glade.

 

Oh, restless tomorrow,

So distant,

So free,

I follow your promises

Endlessly.

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Tattoos

“Body art” some call it,

“A statement of one’s inner self.”

I get that

Even though it’s not for me.

When pressed or teased

To bow to pressure

I just shirk and shake my head

Politely indicating, “let it be.”

 

Often the result of pressures

Spurred on by misguided youth.

Clouded judgement fostering regret

In later days.

Morphed to vague obscurity

If one must know the truth as

You squint your eyes

And turn your head sideways. So,

 

Think a little,

Think a lot,

“What tattoo should I get?”

Then, go ahead with head held high

And live with it without regret.

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See You in the Funny Papers

Newspaper drops and out I go

In pained obedience to retrieve,

Hopeful that the news it heralds

Does not cause my heart to grieve.

 

Disappointment follows as

My slumber-ladened eyes behold

The headline scoops from yesterday

Staring back in gaudy bold.

 

Kidnapped – mine trapped – hurricane -

Markets crashing in disdain -

Hunger – panic – pestilence -

A total lack of common sense….

 

But buried deep within these ink-stained surfaces

A treasure waits to

Fill my morning with delight

And all my qualms alleviate. 

 

And though it is not quite the news

There is no reuse among these capers.

So, I will laugh and be amused to

See you in the funny papers.

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Predictions

No crystal ball in which to gaze.

No oracle to show the way.

No odds-makers with points to shave

On wagers only fools parlay.

 

What futures hold, no one can know.

Can only guess the high and low

And try to keep an even flow

Avoiding all the undertow.

 

Outcomes are a guessing game,

Reap the bounty,

Share the blame,

Claim on top of counterclaims, 

Blasts of bluster fan the flame. 

 

One might guess or acquiesce

To thoughts that others may express

On forays, failure or success,

On who will come in second best.

 

I would not venture to predict,

Prognosticate or blindly pick

An outcome ere the tock is ticked.

To do so would be derelict.

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Break the Cycle

We don’t mean to be evil by intent,

It’s simply in our history,

Learned from a childhood environment

And taken for granted as meant to be.

 

Often the lesson comes late in life

Arising in golden epiphany

Causing us to overcompensate

So we might take pride in our legacy.

 

But what if we were to be gently taught

From our earliest lessons at mother’s knee

That goodness stems and kindness grows

From a fervent belief in equality.

 

I am no better and

You are no worse,

And there is no us or them, just we,

All living together on this mound of marble

Lost in the struggle of humanity.

 

Letting go is the secret to happiness,

Awakening to commonality.

Breaking the cycle that keeps us apart,

Delight in the light that will set us free.

 

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Moonface

Who is that roly-poly visage

Staring down with vague intent?

Following my every move

As if I mean to do you harm.

 

You with your thousand oval eyes

Watching the freak show of humanity.

Peeking through windows

And fences and trees

Afraid you might miss what my folly ensues.

 

Gossiping with a billion stars

Though silent they sit in a restless sky.

Making your journey with pinpoint precision

So I may stare back at your affable face.

 

Waning and waxing, I only assume

You are scanning the galaxies in your own time.

Soaking the wisdom of all you survey

Storing the secrets deep in your core.

 

Oh, strident moon with your face brightly glowing,

Mystical revenant stalking the night,

Witness to aggregate human endeavors,

I seek your counsel

But you never speak.

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