Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 188

Wrong Floor? Maybe Not

Elevator doors open and
Out I step into the hallway
Only to realize
Not my intended,
Not my floor.
Looking around to get better bearing
When down the corridor
Rolls my beloved.
So unexpected.
Oh, so delighted,
Whispers of joy to
My quaint sense of hearing.

Where have you come from?
Where are you going?
On second thought
Matters naught
Now you’re here.
Had I departed
When judgement imparted
This moment might never
Have happened, I fear.

Together at last.
Together for always.
Lilting with laughter or
Laden with tears.

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Friends Will Understand

Some may judge and
Think you soft when tears
Become an alibi.
They cannot know, can’t comprehend
The storms that torment deep inside,
The razor wire that pricks and bleeds
Until resolve is washed away,
Where stillness mocks to terrorize
And leaves no harborage to hide. 

But softness holds no part of shame
When hearts are ripped and
Torn to shreds,
When loss is real and
Karma steals all reason of reality.
These wells are deep and
Filled with demons
Void of hope and sweet redemption,
Praying for extended hands
Straining to bear empathy. 

Each day a struggle to survive
On limbs of rubber, feet of sand.
Strangers mock and taunt and tease, but
Friends, true friends, will understand.

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Remember the Good Times

I was looking through
Old photographs today
Through teary eyes and
Smiles and laughs and grins.
How many fools we suffered
In our time and toil.
How many lifetimes did
We live back then.
The people, pets and places
Of our precious past
Captured in a two-dimensional world
Come rushing back to fill my
Conscious memory,
Charging forth with
Battle flag unfurled.
The many who have met
Their sleep before us,
To claim affinity, so bittersweet.
But focus not the heartache
Of our parting
Or lay the grief of anguish at my feet.
Instead I will remember
All the good times,
The joy, the love so easily defined.
Then I can place my head
Upon my pillow
With gentle reminiscent
Peace of mind.

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The Caregiver

Often given forth in silence,
No benefit of thanks in offing,
Needy expectations coughing
Up one chore
And then another.
Vigilant at midnight’s hour,
Standing watch upon the tower,
Praying for ancillary power
Til the night becomes a blur.

Loving hands and loving heart
Perform each duty willingly.
Nowhere else I’d rather be
Than right here steadfast by your side.
Comforting the path you travel
Knowing it may soon unravel,
Taking you to places my
Imagination cannot bide.

Rest my dearest.
Calm your fears.
Let me be your eyes and ears.
Walk no more in twilight’s gloam.
Let me lead you safely home.

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So Alone

The soft sound of your familiar voice…
Silenced.

The sweet scent of your honeyed hair…
Faded.

The gentle pulse of your loving touch…
Muted.

The warm assurance of your welcomed hugs…
A memory.

You are here no more,
Yet you are here.
You sing no song
To calm my fear.

Your absence chills me
To the bone.
So lost. So lonely.
So alone.

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On Being Prepared

There be toils aplenty in this life
For which the wary may prepare.
Like when your Mom warned you
To be sure and wear clean underwear.
Like saving for that rainy day
When rations ferret short supply,
Or soldiers never questioning
Why they must keep their powder dry.

Paths grow feet,
And streams bend swift
To seek the seas of distant lands,
And Perseus must watchful be
With sturdy sword and shield in hand.
And every child of every child
Must listen to the zephyr winds
To learn the truth of nature’s call
And know the seeds where day begins.

Wouldst in twilight bold advance,
Or in the eyes of darkness stare
Without the prudence of a plan?
Without the forethought to prepare?

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From Where Did I Come?

I came from a small town.
I came from the country.
Born and raised in a world of unrest.
One of six siblings growing together
Through good times
And bitter times,
Put to the test.

I came from the rolling red hills
Of north Georgia.
I came from the green of the Emerald Isle.
I came from the moors, the
Highlands of Scotland,
The outcast of England o’er many a mile.

I fought the brave Norsemen who
Challenged the seas,
The Redcoats, the red men, the blue.
I fought for the Maine and the Alamo.
W W one and two.
I fought the red peril,
The cold and the hot,
And those who in terror profess.
I came from a lengthy tradition of freedom
That nothing and no one
Can ever suppress.

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Starting Over – Getting Over

Feels so strange
Here without you,
Still and restless, cold and wrong.
I keep listening for your voice
But all my questions fall to dust
And echo off these empty walls
Til silence cries to the Thunder god.

You would not have me sitting here
In mournful sorrow, daylight wasting
Tasting bitter vinegar and hasting
Sundown calm my fear
That I shall never know again
Your gentle touch upon my cheek.

Starting over, such a task,
A burden heavier to bear
Than all the Herculean trials 
Of ancient heroes rolled to one.

They say I must get over you,
Move on with new purpose and direction.
I find myself lost, confused and alone
Somewhere between prospect
And quiet reflection.

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Black Stallion – Gray Fox

Crystalline majesty abounds 
As black flanks and silver heels
Launch lightening to a crescent moon.
While crazed eyes of the willful beast
Gaze far beyond the mountaintop.
Who can tame him?
Who will name him?
Who dares blame his stubborn way?
Staunchly defiant.
Non-compliant,
Free to run another day.

Gray fox slips behind the screen of
Forest foliage stealthily, so many
Predators farther up the chain,
Courage effaced by the need for survival, 
Cunning and quickness the tools of his trade.
So many enemies
Akin to infinity
Wary and willing to hide.
Weary at end of day,
Wrestling to find a way,
Thankful to simply survive.

Black stallion – gray fox,
Creatures of Eden. Both
Grateful for being alive.

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That Old Bucket List

What harm to dream?
To laugh?
To languish in
A world of fantasies
With all the possibilities?
Would fate be so unkind
Or thus inclined
To sore deny that piece of the pie
And thus, fulfill the thrill
Of bother be, the one
That holds the quiet key to
Peace of mind.

The list is quite long,
But will can be strong
So that if you insist
And enlist to persist
Good fortune will knock
With the key to unlock
Every portal confined in
The back of my mind,
And bring to fruition
That old bucket list.

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