Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 160
March 23, 2021
Rounding Up Strays
Have you ever noticed how some people play
At blind benevolence, rounding up strays?
If kindness and fellowship won a reward,
Their curio would overflow with awards.
Kittens and puppies and people who find
Them wandering aimlessly, hope left behind.
Someone must help them.
Someone must pay
The price of compassion
For rounding up strays.
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March 22, 2021
The Courier's Message
Across the miles, over hills, through valleys,
Past the gates of barbarian hordes,
In the face of cannon fire,
Through the threat of bombardment,
Over seas and harbors mined for destruction,
The courier's message must go forward.
No idle gossip.
No trivial conversation.
Coded, encrypted, secret in nature,
The courier's message must get through.
The fate of millions hangs in the balance.
The courier's message must get through.
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March 21, 2021
Glimpses
These precious little glimpses of life
Seen from the window of the mind...
These pictures in time...
These snapshots...
These keepsakes...
Treasure them always.
Remember them fondly.
Glimpses are memories.
Memories are forever.
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March 20, 2021
Fountain of Youth
Where, pray tell, is that fountain of youth?
That great panacea for age?
The millions have fruitlessly foolishly sought
To keep life from turning a page.
Though hope springs eternal we someday may find
A cure so we never grow old,
The fountain of youth is a far-fetched untruth;
A fantasy fools have foretold.
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March 19, 2021
Who's To Blame?
Who's to blame when things go wrong?
Who takes the ire of error?
Who rants and raves and places fault
And fills the room with terror?
Does it really matter who's at fault?
Who may have done the deed?
There's a greater cause for which
Our keen attendance has its need.
Fix it first, and later you
Can play your little game
Of figuring a scapegoat,
And finding who's to blame.
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March 18, 2021
These Old Eyes
These eyes are old.
They need assistance in focusing
On the printed word...
The picture frame...
Your face.
But my minds eye is keen.
It builds a lasting memory
Of insightful press...
Inspiring art...
Your face.
These old eyes may fail,
But memory will never fade
Of literature...
Mona Lisa's smile...
Your face.
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March 17, 2021
The Letter
Staring at a blank page,
Wondering what to write,
Searching through my recent
Recollections of the past.
Looking for the right words
That will cleverly convey
The tender meaning of my message.
It comes to me at last.
The words begin to flow out
Like a river on the page.
My pencil point grows wider
As the pages start to crowd
From margin left to margin right
Continuing unchecked
With text that Mr. Pulitzer
Would surely have been proud.
With all the items of my news
Assembled one by one,
And carefully placed upon the page
My masterpiece is done.
And in closing my epistle,
This update of what's new,
My loving gift of happiness
Is sealed and sent to you.Lulu Storefront: http://www.lulu.com/dsmartin
March 16, 2021
Gambling
Do you gamble?
Bet you do.
Would you chance a buck or two
To hit the big one?
All that cash?
All that money you could stash.
Not to worry;
It's no sin.
It's just a game you play to win.
Time to crawl down off that shelf.
Life's a gamble in itself.
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March 15, 2021
Politics
Oh! How I hate politics!
Dirty liars. Dirty tricks.
Sleazy campaigns, twisted truth,
Oozing from the voting booth.
Every one is honest
While opponents all tell lies.
Well, someone's surely lying.
That's a fact no one denies.
But how are we to sort it out
From sound bites on t v?
Who are we to trust
To be what they "all" claim to be?
They burst upon the scene
And advocate a grand upheaval;
Leaving voters in the end
To choose between two evils.
Is it any wonder why
The public screams and kicks
When the topic of discussion
Turns to politics?
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March 14, 2021
My Easy Chair
Having come to the end of a long hard day,
Where frustrations have tangled my mind in a knot,
Where my sleeves have grown long
From the pulling and tugging
In every direction 'til self is forgotten,
I slip off the armor of workday combatants,
Running my fingers through, mussing my hair,
Slipping in silence into calm oblivion,
Wrapped in the comfort of my easy chair.
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