Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 26

Nightfall

Sir Raven rides on velvet wings to

Cast and eerie shadow on an unsuspecting,

Unprepared, unenlightened muddled mob of

Misfits eager to be pleased,

Who dance the day away with ease

And pray the daylight fade away

To mask the folly of their play.

 

Darkness treks with silent footfall

Striding west to chase the sun,

Painting scenes of ghostly gray to

Cover cabin, field and farm. The

Quiet drifter’s subtle charm

Speaks soft romance by candlelight,

The coming of the sacred night.

 

Blessings of a peaceful slumber

Grace the chambers of repose to

Chase and banish daylight’s demons,

Consequence of battles born.

Rest a weary heart til morn

To wake upon a newborn day as

Nightfall gently slips away.

 

Sad Days Remembered

Crying?

No. No, don’t need any more crying.

Had enough of that sad condition.

Battled that bastard into submission

Forward and back

        To thegates of Perdition.

Flooded a river, a lake and a sea leaving

Only a desert inside of me.

 

Forget you?

No. I can never forget you.

Don’t want to. Don’t want to miss the

Smile in your eyes,

The flower of surprise you always grew,

How your world was always fresh and new,

The downy feathers of a heart so true.

The oneness I could only find in you.

 

Sad days are worth remembering,

They’re with us anyway.

A tear-stained passage from an old love letter,

A wax-nostalgia marathon

Of berry-scented memories

To make the days to come feel so much better.

 

Horizons

Somewhere in a distant gaze

The vast horizon looms and lords

His majesty upon the lands,

Touching, clinging earth to sky,

Reaching far beyond the eye where

Angels walk and eagles fly and

Sunsets whisper with a sigh as

Footprints dance across the sands.

 

Clouds, like artist, paint the heavens

With their shades of rakish gold as

Silent thunder begs to speak the

Comfort of a long-lost friend. The

Courage gathered to begin to

Set a broken heart to mend and

Learn to live in peace again in

Meadows just beyond those peaks.

 

Withered hope may yet survive to

Flourish on a distant rise, a

Subtle spark to light the eye.

Dreamers never question why.

 

I’ll Call You

Waiting for a call that never comes,

Clinging to a mem’ry from a broken hollow shell.

I only paint my walls with promises,

A candle in the window,

As silence lingers in a way

I’ve come to know so well.

 

Heaven seemed so close that I could taste,

Til all that milk and honey disappeared without atrace

And left me standing here wondering what to do.

I wipe the tearstains from my pillow

As my heart breaks right in two.

 

You said, “I’ll call you.”

You knew it wasn’t true.

And I believed in you.

I feel like such a fool.

I’ll take my broken heart and put it on the mend,

And maybe someday I can learn to love again.

 

Time can cure, but some wounds never heal.

Holding on to better times

Can only serve to steal

A chance for happiness to share

With someone new.

Passing up on choices for

A dream that won’t come true.

 

You said, “I’ll call you.”

Wet Floors

Caution! Cuidado!

Piso mojado.

Floors may be hazardous,

Slippery when wet. Though we

Try to foresee her with oracle eyes, 

The future rides vapors

Of hope and regrets.

 

She slides past the window, barely perceptible.

Vast possibilities offer a tease

Building blinding ambition of princes and palaces,

Dreams of a life rich with comfort and ease.

 

And who is her master?

Who is the one who holds every key?

Unlocks every door?

Who is her slave? Her butler? Her servant?

Doing her bidding while swabbing her floors.

 

Vague preparation prescribes perspiration

And ego engages in mocking behavior.

But no one may know when

The master comes calling,

So we slide across wet floors

And pray for her favor.

 

Retired

Retired…

        No longermired in

The ever-vexing void of daily drudge,

The oily sludge of slippery slopes,

Of muddled hopes

And put-off dreams with threadbare seams,

Trying desperately to cope.

 

No clock to tease,

No boss to please,

No daily deadlines left to squeeze

A harried pace.

The only race deciding when and where and how

The day begins,

And when it ends

Resting peacefully in place.

 

The only causes are my own,

The battle choices, mine alone.

I choose (or not) to be inspired.

It is my privilege…

        I amretired.

 

On Being Free

Somewhere in the vastexpanse of

Earth, air, sea and sky

The fires born of freedomsoar

And beg to question why.

 

And banners wave as flagsunfurl

And anthems waft the air

As those who paid theprice

Are eulogized with lovingcare.

 

The faithful find herfavor

As the doubters weigh herfate,

While the soft sweet songof freedom

Lays her feast upon myplate.

 

And grateful for herkindness, 

And thankful for hergrace,

And longing for herloving smile

To bless the human race;

 

To fill every corner withher light

And issue her decree, to

Give every heart a moment

To reflect

                  On being free.

 

Move On

The sadness has a part in it,

Especially at the start of it,

The grieving at the leaving and

The strength it takes to cope.

The going on without

Begets a constant nagging doubt,

The struggle not to lose all sense of hope.

 

There are memories to keep,

Lasting memories so deep

Filled with caring,

Never sharing with the crowd,

Like a sweet breeze gently blowing,

Kind reminder filled with knowing

Silent promises that no one speaks out loud.

 

And the healer takes his measure,

Always vigil with such treasure,

Oh, so clever

Heaven never comes undone.

And the soft sweet scent of heather

Gives the promise of forever

And the humble strength to quietly

Move on.

 

Snow Days

Snow plows and shovels

Clop-clanging on concrete

Disturbing the reverent silence as we

Learn the days breaking story,

The forecast, the details all

Measured in inches

Right down to the hub.

 

Exposures and closures

Await smiling children with

Thoughts of sown angels,

Snow forts and snow battles in

Mittens and mufflers with

Snowmen companions, they

Race hills and canyons of

Fresh fallen flurries.

 

No workday to bother,

No wretched commute, just

A clearing of sidewalks

To get to the curb, then

Watching the splendor, the

Trees dippy-dancing.

 

I sip my hot cocoa

And quietly smile.

 

Sunshine and Butterflies

Life doesn’t always bring sunshine and butterflies,

Pink clouds and starry skies are

No guarantee.

It can all disappear right there before your eyes,

Whippoorwill softly cries,

“Just let it be.”

 

There will be better days

Waiting ahead

Wafting in sweet harmony,

Banking off promises,

Memory’s fed,

Whispering softly how good life can be.

 

No more excuses.

No more sad alibis

Followed by lonesome sighs,

Washed by the breeze.

Off tilting windmills beyond

Where the eagle flies,

Sunshine and butterflies

Fill all my dreams.