Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 154

Passing in Review

The old ex-soldier stood,

Bared his head and dipped his eyes

In silence as the color guard

Strode step by step in grand review.

 

Memories flood every stream

To overflowing as the symbol

Waves unfurling in the heat

Of steamy summers' sweating swelter.

 

What a grand time it had been;

Days gone by when youth was king.

How much pride could one heart hold

For honor's duty gladly done?

How many lives were his to touch?

How many differences resolved?

Could he have done just a little more?

Will he find peace at the end of his road?

 

Forever seeking

To find something new,

Lives spent

Passing in review.

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Crying

It brings me discomfort to see people cry.

I never know how to react or respond

To the steadfast emotion so common to humans;

So deeply attached to the frailties we share.

It's so unpredictable, so like the wind;

Clouds laden with moisture

That burst at the seams.

One truly can never anticipate

What may precipitate unwanted tears

To burst upon hearts with a jagged edge,

With a vengeance to tear out our dreams.

Sadness is all around every day and

Tears are abundant to wash it from sight,

But tears alone never will take it away;

Crying will not set things right.

So, we cry for our losses...

We cry for ourselves...

We cry for the pain that we must endure.

We cry for the child who cannot understand.

We cry - because life is unsure....

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Celebrate Quietly

I sit in the darkened room and wonder,

Marvel even at the great good fortune

Now bestowed upon me

Here among the Arts elite.

Watching as the actors play the rolls

That were created in my mind

So very long ago

Now cast for all the World to see.

I try to read the mind of one who

Watches with a quiet patience

And a chuckle now and then

When the timing is just right.

I cringe when someone flubs a line.

"That's not what they were meant to say."

I wonder, when it's over will I want to

Run and hide from sight?

Waiting for the final scene...

The audience applause.

My heart then quietly celebrates;

My mind arush can take a pause.

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A Heart Breaks

You were my world at daybreak;

Shining, glowing with the amber light

That grew to passion's fiery red

Long before the morning awoke.

We thought we would last forever,

Knew our torch would light the way.

Pity that the flame concealed the

Demons lurking in the smoke.

 

Time can be an evil teacher

When the truth at last unveils

The colors hidden in the heart

Which, early on, were cloaked and masked.

Had we seen in the beginning

What the trek of time revealed,

We would not have made the journey,

Would not have been so sorely tasked.

 

All the wonders one foresees

While other roads the mind forsakes.

This path was not meant to be.

In the end...  a heart breaks.

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When the Leaves Leave

It's snowing now; has been for a day

Or more. The evergreens are pregnant

Pure with white, and the sidewalks sigh

With the weight until shovels clear

And the sun arrives and it can breathe again.

 

Now the elm tree waits, hoping Springtime will

Renew all the innocence and joy that

It once knew 'til the Winter winds

Blew her covers far away

And laid bare her soul for the world to see.

 

And you were gone in the early Autumn air.

As the leaves were falling, fate was

Planning, too. And you left me here

Standing stark and alone; sighing, shivering

With loss no one has ever known before.

 

...Sadly now, the leaves have simply blown

Away 'til threadbare limbs flail wild in

Winter winds. And I'm wondering,

Are you somewhere safe tonight?

And does God have mercy for those left behind?

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You Don't Understand

I know that we speak the same language.

You know that I've said it ten thousand times,

But somehow we're just not communicating

In enumerating a tired old theme.

Taking apart every syllable,

Every nuance laid threadbare before us, picked clean.

And still you don't hear, or do you ignore?

Would it help if I shouted and screamed?

 

The rules of polite conversation sometimes

Tie the pitiful hands of the articulate

When the ears of the listener deafen and turn

In directions too often not meant to be tread,

Leaving the speaker, the teller of stories, to

Squirm in frustration much to the point

Of wishing the listener, to his dismay,

Were strangled, beaten and left for dead.

 

Such a simple, magical plan...

Pity you don't understand.

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I Don't Need Scissors

I don't need scissors to cut out your heart

And toss it aside without shedding a tear.

Actions and words have more cutting an edge

Than the most finely honed pair of stainless steel shears.

I won't abide by your mollified codes that

Demand acquiescence to civility.

You won't find me yielding or wielding an edge

To the notions of polite society.

There is a line which, when crossed, kindles sparks

That build to a wall of impenetrable fire

That can't be put down,

Cannot be extinguished,

But only grows deeper and hotter and higher.

 

You had to hurt me.

You had to dig.

You knew the ending right from the start.

Now it's my turn, and I won't be kind...

And I don't need scissors to cut out your heart.

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Boom Box Theory

Every evening, 11 PM, we

Hear him pull through the alleyway

Headed to what must be the solace of

Hearth and home at the end of his day.

Not that the engine of his Tracker is

A loud unmuffled roar;

Not that the potholes in the alley scream

Of rattles bottomed out;

Not that he's greeted at his door by

Loved ones gladly welcoming his

Tired bones to a weary rest

After an arduous evening out.

How do we know our neighbor is home

Just as our sleep time is settling in?

"Boom-ba da boom-ba da boom, boom, boom"

Our walls quake with the deafening din.

How can he stand it?

What evil demon possesses his spirit...

Rules over his mind?

Piercing his ears to the marrow of bone,

Leaving all semblance of logic behind,

Filling his head like a horn of plenty...

He'll probably be deaf by the time he is twenty.

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Pernicious Glitch

Joy... Anger... Pain... Sorrow...

Love... Elation... Hate... Depression...

Fear... Confusion... Agitation...

Jealousy...  Aggravation...

Logic doesn't seem to fit

The pattern of emotion

That the Human factor tends to lend

Our dismal dreary days.

No wonder we become confused

With minds befuddled and bemused

When pathways clutter and refuse

To follow logic's ways.

Like pieces of a patchwork quilt

All cut and scattered on the floor,

Like bricks before the house is built,

All separate and alone;

Until they're placed and stitched or mortared

In a pattern prearranged,

The pieces are just pieces...

The bricks are merely stone.

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Keep It Simple, Stupid

Complicated, aggravated, heavy weighted situation

Permeated with the hated calculated risks.

Choices from amalgamated theories become agitated

'Til awash and fluoridated, holding just the gist.

 

We combine and slowly grind until we find solutions

To a problem which, without a stitch, Stood naked to our eyes.

Could it be we couldn't see the coming evolution when the

Answers bare and often stare and even glare

With wheres and whys.

 

Choices.  Ah, yes! There's the rub;

Far too many in the tub;

All the spokes lead to the hub

Of where we want to be.

We need but to simplify;

Penetrate the needle's eye;

No regrets... No alibi...

Your choices set you free.

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