Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 73

Celebrate Quietly

I sit in the darkened roomand wonder,

Marvel even at the great goodfortune

Now bestowed upon me

Here among the Arts elite.

Watching as the actors playthe rolls

That were created in my mind

So very long ago

Now cast for all the World tosee.

I try to read the mind of onewho

Watches with a quiet patience

And a chuckle now and then

When the timing is justright.

I cringe when someone flubs aline.

"That's not what theywere meant to say."

I wonder, when it's over willI want to

Run and hide from sight?

Waiting for the finalscene...

The audience applause.

My heart then quietlycelebrates;

My mind arush can take apause.

 

A Heart Breaks

You were my world atdaybreak;

Shining, glowing with theamber light

That grew to passion's fieryred

Long before the morningawoke.

We thought we would last forever,

Knew our torch would lightthe way.

Pity that the flame concealedthe

Demons lurking in the smoke.

 

Time can be an evil teacher

When the truth at lastunveils

The colors hidden in theheart

Which, early on, were cloakedand masked.

Had we seen in the beginning

What the trek of timerevealed,

We would not have made thejourney,

Would not have been so sorelytasked.

 

All the wonders one foresees

While other roads the mindforsakes.

This path was not meant tobe.

In the end...  a heart breaks.

 

When the Leaves Leave

It's snowing now; has beenfor a day

Or more. The evergreens arepregnant

Pure with white, and thesidewalks sigh

With the weight until shovelsclear

And the sun arrives and itcan breathe again.

 

Now the elm tree waits,hoping Springtime will

Renew all the innocence andjoy that

It once knew 'til the Winterwinds

Blew her covers far away

And laid bare her soul forthe world to see.

 

And you were gone in theearly Autumn air.

As the leaves were falling, fatewas

Planning, too. And you leftme here

Standing stark and alone;sighing, shivering

With loss no one has everknown before.

 

...Sadly now, the leaves havesimply blown

Away 'til threadbare limbsflail wild in

Winter winds. And I'mwondering,

Are you somewhere safetonight?

And does God have mercy forthose left behind?

 

You Don't Understand

I know that we speak the samelanguage.

You know that I've said itten thousand times,

But somehow we're just notcommunicating

In enumerating a tired oldtheme.

Taking apart every syllable,

Every nuance laid threadbare before us, picked clean.

And still you don't hear, ordo you ignore?

Would it help if I shoutedand screamed?

 

The rules of politeconversation sometimes

Tie the pitiful hands of thearticulate

When the ears of the listenerdeafen and turn

In directions too often notmeant to be tread,

Leaving the speaker, theteller of stories, to

Squirm in frustration much tothe point

Of wishing the listener, tohis dismay,

Were strangled, beaten andleft for dead.

 

Such a simple, magicalplan...

Pity you don't understand.

 

I Don't Need Scissors

I don't need scissors to cutout your heart

And toss it aside withoutshedding a tear.

Actions and words have morecutting an edge

Than the most finely honedpair of stainless steel shears.

I won't abide by yourmollified codes that

Demand acquiescence tocivility.

You won't find me yielding orwielding an edge

To the notions of politesociety.

There is a line which, whencrossed, kindles sparks

That build to a wall ofimpenetrable fire

That can't be put down,

Cannot be extinguished,

But only grows deeper andhotter and higher.

 

You had to hurt me.

You had to dig.

You knew the ending rightfrom the start.

Now it's my turn, and I won'tbe kind...

And I don't need scissors tocut out your heart.

 

Boom Box Theory

Every evening, 11 PM, we

Hear him pull through thealleyway

Headed to what must be thesolace of

Hearth and home at the end ofhis day.

Not that the engine of hisTracker is

A loud unmuffled roar;

Not that the potholes in thealley scream

Of rattles bottomed out;

Not that he's greeted at hisdoor by

Loved ones gladly welcominghis

Tired bones to a weary rest

After an arduous evening out.

How do we know our neighboris home

Just as our sleep time issettling in?

"Boom-ba da boom-ba daboom, boom, boom"

Our walls quake with thedeafening din.

How can he stand it?

What evil demon possesses hisspirit...

Rules over his mind?

Piercing his ears to themarrow of bone,

Leaving all semblance oflogic behind,

Filling his head like a hornof plenty...

He'll probably be deaf by thetime he is twenty.

 

Pernicious Glitch

Joy... Anger... Pain... Sorrow...

Love... Elation... Hate...Depression...

Fear... Confusion...Agitation...

Jealousy...  Aggravation...

Logic doesn't seem to fit

The pattern of emotion

That the Human factor tendsto lend

Our dismal dreary days.

No wonder we become confused

With minds befuddled andbemused

When pathways clutter andrefuse

To follow logic's ways.

Like pieces of a patchworkquilt

All cut and scattered on thefloor,

Like bricks before the houseis built,

All separate and alone;

Until they're placed andstitched or mortared

In a pattern prearranged,

The pieces are just pieces...

The bricks are merely stone.

 

Keep It Simple, Stupid

Complicated, aggravated,heavy weighted situation

Permeated with the hatedcalculated risks.

Choices from amalgamatedtheories become agitated

'Til awash and fluoridated,holding just the gist.

 

We combine and slowly grinduntil we find solutions

To a problem which, without astitch, Stood naked to our eyes.

Could it be we couldn't see thecoming evolution when the

Answers bare and often stareand even glare

With wheres and whys.

 

Choices.  Ah, yes! There's the rub;

Far too many in the tub;

All the spokes lead to thehub

Of where we want to be.

We need but to simplify;

Penetrate the needle's eye;

No regrets... No alibi...

Your choices set you free.

 

The Irony of it All

Did you ever notice the skyat sunset?

When feathers of fire gentlyflicker and wave

As they roll up to heaven,stretching to reach for a

Point where they penetrateGod's holy shrine.

 

Stars are not visible yet asthe sun settles

Over the crest of a far awayhill;

And sometimes the Moon hasawakened too early

And peeks like a ghostthrough the shadowing clouds.

 

This is as close as weEarthlings will come

To seeing the face of oureternal God.

This is the beauty, both realand imagined,

A preview, a prelude toafterlife

Where sunsets are constantand beauty surrounds

Every moment of wait foreternity.

 

But we ignore sunsets,

Look to tomorrow...

Too busy to stop...

Too blind to see.

 

And the Walls Came Down

Old man Millsap was a sadlittle creature.

He lived down the road withhis wife and daughters

Who, sad to the world, hadtheir father's features

And grew to be spinsters withno social graces.

 

A quiet sort, old Millsap,the handyman;

Skilled with a hammer and sawor a wrench.

He could build a shed in thespit of a minute,

Clean up and be gone withoutleaving a trace.

 

Everyone thought him an oddlittle man;

Someone to pity, perhaps evenfear.

Though his heart was awashwith the kindness of ages,

His stoic demeanor wasmisunderstood.

 

And the tattered attire andramshackled pickup

He drove didn't help hispersona at all.

People had such a hard timeseeing past the surface

To find that part that wasgood.

 

Old Millsap took masses ofteasing and taunting

From self-righteoushypocrites lost in themselves;

People who joy at the expenseof others,

Who laugh and cajole as theypull on the reins.

 

Little wonder they could notimagine

What must have possessed himthat fateful evening

When all the walls cametumbling down.

Old Millsap went home andblew out his brains.