Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 254

Haiku 3

Splendid thorny rose,
Peacock proud with pomp and flash.
Beauty cannot hold. 

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Is Anybody Listening?

You've beaten your fist upon your chest,
Banged your head against the wall,
Rang bells 'til the clappers screamed
For mercy from incessant toil,
You've raised your bullhorn to the crowd
In rabble-rousing furtive call,
Ranted, raved and sang your song
Until your blood began to boil.
Every trick at your disposal,
Every sleight of hand device
Employed, developed, cultivated
Makes your cause more interesting.
Stark reality revealing
Facts and figures to suffice.
Now the tricky part concludes.
Is anybody listening?

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Haiku 2

Light sleeps at sunset, Dreaming with magenta eyes.
Longing tomorrow.

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Chasing the Nothing

All too often we run the good race,
Chase the right chase to no avail,
Only to wind up with little or nothing
To show for our effort. No Holy Grail
At the end of our search
Though we've covered each corner,
Probed every crevice
Down each avenue.
Swift and elusive the nothing finds shelter
Away from the probing eyes,
Tucked out of view.
The nothing is always there lurking in shadows,
Living on instinct, primed to survive.
Chasing the nothing is what makes us human.
Reaching for stars keeps our spirit alive.

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Haiku

Every breath a gift From the breast of Mother Earth.
I am heaven blessed. 



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The Local Fare at the Local Fair

Some things, thankfully, never change.
Nice to have constants in our lives.
Like the local fare at the local fair
Where tradition thrives and good times survive.
Every year we saddle up to make our fateful trek
Through old familiar blocks of neighborhoods.
A sojourn of nostalgic measure, habit more or less,
A sampling of sorts of local goods.
Strolling leisurely through the park
Where artisans display their craft,
Music wafting through the air,
A baby cried, a jester laughed.

Becoming an observer to a passive fashion show,
Aimlessly we stroll just to get nearer,
Wond'ring what possesses some folks to go out in public.
Do these people even own a mirror?
Fashion statements, I suppose,
Meant to be provocative,
Not judgmental, just amused.
Let folks live as they would live.
Tattoos shine in bold display on
Arms and shoulders, legs and breasts.
Rag tops, flop hats, baby strollers
Roam the midway east to west.

Grab some fries and lemonade,
Corn dog, burger on a bun.
One last look, a sweep nostalgic.
Turn and go... The day is done.

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Sitting On the Edge of the Universe

This insignificant speck of dust
Sitting on the edge of the universe
Is hearth and home to millions of billions,
Billions of trillions and even more.

Once ruled by giants, both gentle and fierce,
Erupting from nothing to lush forest green.
In an instant the giants are gone and forgotten,
Traced to a fossil, erased from the scene.

Now it is man who resides on the summit,
Cocky and bold with a confident beam,
Filled with a history, guided by memory,
Brash curiosity armed with his dreams.

The stalking moon parades through the heavens
Bidding him come to seek out his fate.
Unbridled adventure around every corner
Forbids him from patience, will not let him wait.

Never quite knowing what made it all happen,
Theory on theory, he tries to converse.
Wondering what gods collided to leave him
Sitting here on the edge of the universe.

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Crossroads

Many a life has been
Planned at the crossroads,
Choosing directions
With last minute ease.
Standing with back turned to
Past indiscretions,
Looking for new roads,
Facing the breeze.
Left turn... Right turn...
Right straight ahead...
Up turn... Return,
Back to the womb.
Crossroads beckon,
Prod and confuse,
Crowded theater
Where destinies loom.
So much to live for...
Too much to lose...
We stand at the crossroads
And choose.

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Survivor

Here's to those who went before
From those they left behind.
Raise a glass to those who can't.
Give them all their due.
We are all survivors of
That ancient human breed.
Revel in the fortune of
The gift they've given you.

Guided by ancestral myth,
A driving curiosity
So strong that every fiber seeks
To know the answers to it all.
Never truly satisfied,
Always wanting more,
Needing to know what adventure
Lies beyond the wall.

Lovely candle burning bright
Until your flame becomes a ghost,
Leaving other sad survivors
Raising glasses in a toast.

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Breathing In, Breathing Out

We spend a life with the rise and fall
Of a heaving, sighing, yearning chest,
That ancient human ritual
Of breathing in... Breathing out.
Some great power in its wisdom
Gave to us this simple method,
Put the air in space
And taught our race
What it was all about.
Fortunate we are
It's an involuntary act.
If humans had to think of it,
We all would wind up dead.
But some great power in its wisdom
Planted it subconsciously
Deep within the dark recesses
Of our feeble mortal heads.

Sorrowful lamenting,
Understanding without doubt,
Life is done too quickly...
Breathing in... Breathing out.

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