Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 2

Cynicism

When we bypass cynicism

Leaving prey to criticism

From an unknown outside source,

Falling victim to remorse,

There is something to be missed,

Something trivial dismissed,

That will come back down the road

Hauntingly to prod and goad,

Best we look with watchful eye

Everything that passes by;

Every little witticism

Scrutinized by cynicism.

Singing

There's nothing more thrilling than the triumph of song;

God's perfect gift to the world.

The human companion to grand celebration,

Or when in despair we are hurled.

 

Whether it's singing the praises of god,

Or desperately crying the blues,

Or rocking the house with a dance of delight,

Or expressing alternative views,

The spirit of song is the spirit of life;

The soul of expression in man.

The reason the trumpeter blows reveille

And the bandleader strikes up the band.

 

To bring on the singers...

To bring on the songs...

To feed and replenish our souls.

So, let there be singing,

And let it inspire us

To go about reaching our goals.

 

Hearts and Flowers

Should I give you hearts and flowers?

Should I sing a sweet love song?

Fond forgiveness bodes forever,

Loving blindly, right or wrong.

 

Treachery is not your calling,

And its test you truly fail.

You are more adept at loving.

Winds of mercy fill your sail.

 

In your eyes I find a spirit

Of compassion reaching out.

Oh! So gently it caresses

As it spreads its' arms about.

 

Should I give you hearts and flowers?

You, whose love belongs to me.

I shall give you hearts and flowers;

Enough for all eternity.

 

Wafting

Gently rolling, floating, falling,

Riding calmly on the breeze.

Not a care or caution lingers.

All concerns are met with ease.

Rising slowly, swaying freely

On a cushion in the air.

Feeling fluffy, smooth and silky.

Not a worry. Not a care.

In it's measure dissipating.

Where it goes to, no one knows.

Bringing back a sweet remembrance:

Springtime blossoms... Winter snows.

Lingering for just a moment.

Soft aroma, never strong,

Comes a haunting lovely memory

For an instant. Then it's gone.

 

Trinkets

It's funny how we humans

Grow attached to little things,

Like baubles, bangles, beads and bracelets,

Necklaces and rings,

Little statues, candle holders

Tiny little toys,

Cuff links, tie clips, broaches,

Earrings for both girls and boys.

These tiny little trinkets,

Usually of little worth,

Can oft become the greatest treasures

We have on this earth.

And who's to say that we are wrong?

It's not a money thing.

The value of our trinkets

Is in the joy they bring.

 

Deja vu

I've been here before; just know it.

Has that ever happened to you?

To see someplace, to be someplace,

Someplace you've walked into

At sometime in your distant past,

You can't recall exactly when,

But something so familiar

Seems to stir you from within.

 

It's a scary kind of feeling,

Somehow nervous, yet quite warm;

Something like the calm that hits you

Just before the storm.

It stirs for just a moment

Sending other thoughts askew,

Then leaves you just as quickly.

What just happened?

Deja vu.

 

Hiccups

Do you know a cure for hiccups?

I've heard of quite a few.

Everyone I know of

Seems to have a different view.

 

No one knows exactly

What incites them to begin.

We only know we quickly want to

Bring them to and end.

 

 "Have you triedto hold your breath

And count to twenty?" Didn't work.

"Have you breathed into a bag?"

It makes you feel like such a jerk.

 

Try gulping down some water;

A full glass or maybe more;

Or have somebody scare you

As they lurk behind a door.

 

We've heard of oh! So many cures

From every kind of source,

But the only sure-fired remedy

Is to let them run their course.

Breaking Wind

Why is breaking wind so funny?

What makes it such a crime?

Could it be because it comes

At unexpected times?

 

It sneaks up from behind us

Leaving everyone agog,

And wondering who's guilty,

'Til we finally blame the dog.

 

We smile and snicker as the humor

Of the moment grows,

Until the scent of guilty air

Comes wafting by our nose.

 

Nothing is so quick to turn

A smile into a sneer

As someone breaking wind

And proudly grinning ear to ear.

 

Your Eyes

In my youth I struggled,

Looking for the right connection;

Someone who would give and take

My measure of affection;

Someone with compassion

And sensitivity,

Who's gentle understanding

Was meant for only me.

And when I finally found it,

It came as no surprise.

All it took was just one look.

I found it in your eyes.

 

Communication

What did you say? Please, say it again.

I didn't quite catch the last line.

Beg your pardon? Bad connection?

Oh, now I can hear you just fine.

 

"I'm sorry. May I interrupt what you're saying?

I have a few thoughts of my own."

So, we listen with passive intent 'til the voice

Becomes nothing more than a drone.

 

It's not an unusually odd situation.

It's not that we strayed from the norm.

If folks were as good at listening as talking,

They all would be better informed.