Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 24

Don’t Kill the Messenger

I’m only passing on thenews.

Thoughts expressed arenot my views so

Any anger that ensues

Should not apply to me.

And though your ire maybe just,

It was not I betrayedyour trust, so

Take a moment to adjust

The wrath of your decree.

 

The winds of fate,

The sea of change,

The confluence ofcircumstances uncontrolled

Are met to dance in

Fits of fruitless fantasy.

Swift purveyor, full ofyouth,

Bold and brash with eyesof ruthless irony,

Speaks only truth with

Ironclad guarantee.

 

And though we may notwant to hear

The missive that iswaiting there,

We need not hide ourhearts in fear

Or dare to kill themessenger.

 

February Song

Yes, dear friend, hercold runs deep,

Her frozen earth ofsteely stone.

Even in the sun’s briefglow

Its sharp fangs penetratethe bone.

 

Bitter wind sweeps everycorner

Of her tiny villagesquare,

Sweeping from vastnorthern tundra

Spreads its pinprickseverywhere.

 

Bundled well in scarf andparka

Venture out into herfray,

Blinded white withfalling snowflakes

Stop to watch herchildren play.

 

Snuggled now beside thefireplace,

Scalding cocoa warmsinside.

Let the chill enjoy herconquest.

We have nothing left tohide.

 

And we huddle at herleisure

Watching as the days growlong,

Bound to leap with hopeand joy

As February sings hersong.

 

War is Over

Let the herald ring hisbell,

Quick to tell the waitingthrong

So they may spread thejoyful news and

Join him in his merrysong.

-       Waris over -

 

Now the healing canbegin.

Time to mend a brokenland,

To find compassion in thewind and

Take your neighbor by thehand.

-       Waris over -

 

Fathers pray as mothersweep

In sorrow or in ecstasy

To know their sons shallknow no more

The horror of suchtravesty.

-       Waris over -

 

And every soul in everytown and

Every village far andnear,

For now and for eternity

The three words they mostlong to hear:

-       Waris over -

 

An Angel Sings

Kaleidoscopes andcarousels,

Puppy dogs and wishingwells,

Butterflies and whitedoves on the wing.

Experience, empirical,

Descends from realmsethereal

To hold us every time anangel sings.

 

Winter’s snowflakesgently fall as

Anxious mortals rush tocall,

Hoping for the warmerwinds of spring.

Dreams of wonder can cometrue

To turn your sky fromgray to blue.

It happens every time anangel sings.

 

Even when the dark cloudscry cold teardrops,

Leaving lost soulslonging for the light,

Like a shining beacon onthe shoreline

An angel’s voice can makethe world glow bright.

 

A broken heart may wonderwhy

It has to sit alone andcry and

Never know just whattomorrow brings.

But gentle hope is alwaysnear and

If you listen closeyou’ll hear

The joy that lifts youwhen an angel sings.

 

If you put your hand inmine

Our summer sun willalways shine and

Love will greet us as anangel sings.

98.6 And Normal

Normal walks and

         Normal talks and

Sees and hears, tastesand feels.

Normal doesn’t questionwhy or

Askfor more than life reveals.

 

Normal never oversteps or

Divesin depths with quick reactions.

Normal doesn’t dare todream or

Planor scheme without distraction.

 

Normal doesn’t theorizeor

Seekthe prize beyond the moon,

Crouching small amongtall trees

Afraidto sing a different tune.

 

Normal takes the easypath,

Avoidsthe wrath of dissonance,

Seeks the shelter ofaccord,

Fearfulof a rebel’s stance.

 

If normal means to livein dread,

To hide my head so Ican’t see the

Prospect of a foreignworld,

Then normal I shall neverbe.

 

Sometimes the Answer is No

Pray for healing,

         Pray for peace,

                  Pray for understanding.

Pray with fervor for Hisfavor,

But pray withoutdemanding.

 

Pray for blessings,

         Pray with thanks,

                  Pray to know God’s grace.

Pray that every heart mayknow

The warmth of Hisembrace.

 

Trials and temptationsare but

Bitter weeds that allmust taste,

But the guidance from asimple prayer

Can quell decisions madein haste.

 

For all may hope and

         All may pray

As surely as the windsmay blow,

And every prayer is heardand answered,

Often, “Yes,”

         But sometimes, “No.”

 

Western Movies

Ride me away on anothercliché where

The sun settles soft atthe end of the day

As the good guys, the badguys and

         All in between

Paint the tale of an eraplayed out on the screen.

 

With hokum and smoke ‘emand

         Horses and cattle,

Coyotes yappin’ andInjuns to battle,

Six-guns ablazin’ and

Pretty gals cooin’,

Pot-bellied sheriffs whoride to their ruin.

Men in white hats atopswift golden steeds

Chasing bad men in black whosehearts fill with greed.

The furious crush of acavalry rush

With bugle and banner andsabre held high

Sweep to the rescue frommanic marauders as

Victory echoes from theirbattle cry.

 

I know it was fantasy,

         Nothing quite real,

But I couldn’t escape howit all made me feel.

Saturday mornings, six-gunsaflame,

         And I was a cowboy ridin’ the range.

 

Did You Hear the One About…

Old jokes tend to comearound again,

Again…

And yet again,

Taking slightly differenttwists and turns

To find familiar ends,

Hoping for a belly laugh,

A smile

Or maybe just a grin,

Told by strangers in acrowd, or

Shared in secret with afriend.

 

All God’s children loveto laugh at

Quips or capers,

         Prank or pun,

Silly little anecdotalmemories

Relayed in fun.

Whether to an audience offifty million,

Or just one,

Lifts a world fromdarkness

With a candy-coated sliceof sun.

Makes a gleeful spiritshout,

“Hey, did you hear theone about…”

 

First Kiss

Sweet bliss…

This first kiss.

Loving hearts mayreminisce

The moment spent

         On tender lips

In breathless, anxiousecstasy.

Fulfilling every fantasyof

Joyous, unrepentantyouth.

Finding out the humbletruth that

There is so much more tothis…

         More than just a simple kiss.

A new beginning,

         New direction

Wrapped in guise of sweetconfection.

Gentle promise ofperfection

Wanting more…

         Forever more,

Never stopping to keepscore.

Determined never todismiss the

Memory of this firstkiss.

 

Transitions

Nothing ever stays thesame

As time demands herfealty,

For life resides onshifting sands

That, swift, the currentssweep to sea.

And all who dare defy her

To decry her morphedmaturity

Are left to weep andwonder why,

But scarce deny reality.

 

Through phase and stagethese changes play

To steal the refuge ofdesign

Disrupting comfort in thewake of

Customs to be left behind.

And these transitions,never smooth,

May cause the mighty toopine

While feast awaits the fiddler

As past and presentintertwine.

 

To beat the drum,

To cry and wail,

To fight the dragon ofreform

Is nothing short ofstanding still,

Left behind in nature’sstorm.