Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 258

What Is A Friend?

How many friends do you have in your life?
Not acquaintances, coworkers, fair-weather friends,
Not neighbors or vendors you see on occasion
Exchanging a joke-de-jour, flashing a grin.

A friend... A true friend is a diamond uncut,
A treasure unmeasured by gemstone or gold,
A movie awaiting a storybook ending,
A welcoming shelter, relief from the cold.

Who can you tell your most intimate secrets
And not expect judgement or guilt in return?
Who do you go to when life gives you roses?
Who shares desire for the things that you yearn?

Whose is the shoulder you seek in your sorrow?
Whose are the eyes that reflect your delight?
Who is the one who will stand at your side
And go toe to toe when you fight the good fight?

Who sees you through and then comes back to you
Sharing joys and sorrows, the good times, the strife?
The question unanswered. Think through it once more.
How many friends do you have in your life?

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God Bless the Givers

The world is overpopulated with
Those who only take.
Grasping grabbers, cold back-stabbers
Always on the make.Rolex wearing, never caring,Always wanting more.Never knowing sacrifice,A bold self-serving whore.With oh! So many on the take,Not knowing how to live,We cherish those who can forsakeThemselves and learn to give.Parables are written andStories touch the soulOf those kind-hearted giversWho sacrifice their goalsTo deliver aid and comfortTo those who are in need,Who never ask for recompenseFor their unselfish deeds.God bless the givers,Bless them all,Their numbers multiply.Inner peace befriends the heartsOf those who don't ask why.
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Look At Me

I've never been to a nudist camp
Where folks parade undressed,
Never spent the day at a topless beach
Where women flaunt their breasts.
A slave to inhibition I
Suppose I'll always be.
Too shy to display just a smile
And say,
"Hey world! Come look at me!"

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Do Naked People Have More Fun?

They say that "clothes doth make the man".
The woman also, I suppose.
But is this hang-up accurate?
What is this thing we have with clothes?
No quibbling. I know the answer.
The mystery resolved.
The most fun that I've ever had,
No clothing was involved.

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Trying To Quit

Habits can be such a pain,
Can cause you anguish,
Give you fits.
Especially when you decide
It's really time to call it quits.
Physically and mentally
You're never quite prepared.
Talking tough is easy
Though inside you're really scared
To think of giving up your crutches,
Cherished little quirks.
It really burns when others spurn
Cajolingly and smirk
And smile and even laugh out loud
At your latest vain attempt.
The last thing that you need is mocking
When you seek redemption
From the strangle hold, creating a
Revival from the deep.
Self-denial is enough to
Make the strongest weep.
Finding all the puzzle pieces,
Seeing how they fit,
No one knows how tough it goes
Until they try to quit.

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Break Dancing! What the hell was that all about?

Phases, fads, forgotten fashions
Come and go, unbridled passions
Stealing through into the night,
Swirling whirlwinds in their flight.

Frisbees, yo-yos, hula hoops,
Derby hats and spats... Zuit-suits
And boogie-boards to cruise the waves,
All the hep-cats were the rave.

It was not so long ago
Break dancing was the latest craze.
Twisting, spinning, topsy-turvy,
How they would amaze the
Sedentary like myself
Who watch in awe from an easy chair,
Wondering how the hell can they do
What they're doing there?
Better yet, I wondered "why"?
What scheme? What aim? What plan?
The answer is a simple one.
They do it 'cause they can.

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Break It Up

Stop that fighting! Break it up!
No bickering allowed.
Do that stuff when you're alone,
Not standing in a crowd.
Talk it out. Don't stand there yapping
Like a bitten pup.
Grown up people keep their heads.
For god's sake, break it up!

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Nothing Rhymes With Orange

Have you ever tried to make a rhyme
With orange as the key?
A simple word,
But how absurd!
How hard could it possibly be?
Orange, borange, corange, dorange,
'Unwords' come to mind.
Not a single one with meaning
Can I seem to find.
I guess it's simply meant to be,
A word that's so unique.
Nothing rhymes with orange
In this language that we speak.

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Dad, Why Is the Sky Blue?

Father cringes at the question,
Certain of its' imminent asking.
"Dad, why is the sky blue?"

Hoping to delay the answer,
Searching hard for understanding,
Wishing it was asked of someone,
Anyone but you.

There's no time for heavy research.
You should know, must know right now.
No delay, no time to play,
Just have your say and take your bow.
And if by chance one question paves
The way to yet another,
Don't hesitate, do not delay,
Just say, "Go ask your mother."

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Give It Up

Give it up.
The horse is dead,
And beating it won't help.
No need to keep on
Strumming on those strings.
Time is up so
Just move on,
Next subject if you please.
Let's see what new events
Tomorrow brings.

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