Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 77

House Plants

How many houseplants do you own?

We own six. I counted.

Some folks own a dozen; maybe more.

Dainty little jungles in

A cave of paint and plaster,

They keep a room from being

Such a bore.

All they ask for on occasion

Is a drink of water,

And just a little sunlight every day.

Not so hard a task

When you consider what they're giving;

The crowning greening glory they display.

Then tell me why so many die,

If not from mere neglect,

When people buy a houseplant on a whim.

Would folks be more attentive

If they thought that, in return,

Their houseplants would be taking care of them?

 

A Gray Day

It's a gray day. It seems as if

The whole world's standing still.

The sky is weeping misty tears

That mask the middaysun.

The clock moves at a turtle's pace

And on its' face, a frown,

Disdaining all activity,

Which would otherwise be fun.

 

A gray day doesn't have a friend.

It stands all by itself.

A day for calm reflection

To be placed upon the shelf.

A day to just forget that

You have promises to keep,

To just turn over, pull the shades,

And drift back off to sleep.

 

Imagination

Did you ever notice children

As they play at being grown?

A thing of which, at their age,

Very little is really known.

It doesn't matter if their play

Has any point or aim.

It's their imagination that

Transports them in their game.

 

It's sad to think that growing up

Can bring on such a change

As to stifle creativity

When imagination wanes.

Just watch the children as they play.

There's a lesson to be learned.

There are no boundaries

Where imagination is concerned.

 

Thank You Kindly, Mister Nash

I read a book by Ogden Nash;

A gift for which I spent no cash.

Though I seldom laugh when I'm alone,

He really touched my funny bone.

A poet with a flair for flash.

I thank you kindly, Mister Nash.

 

The Color Red

What do you think of the color red?

Where does it send your mind?

Is it kindred to passion,

Or anger instead?

Is it subtle? Bold?  Refined?

There's red in the sky at both dawn and at dusk.

It signals beginnings and ends.

The color of life as the blood in our veins.

The color of love between friends.

The scarlet of cardinals, swift on the wing.

The signal of autumn's arrival.

The symbol of tragedy born on a cross.

The struggle for human survival.

So much is contained in the color of red;

The story of man and his kin;

The conflict of ages,

The future enfolds, as he looks back

To see where he's been.

The seers may foretell of misfortune and gore,

But the wise foresee fortune ahead.

They keep in their hearts all the hope of compassion

That springs from the color of red.

Stairs

Whoever invented the second floor

Had a masochistic yen.

They made it necessary to build stairs.

Just how it first developed

From beginning to the end,

No one really knows or even cares.

The elevator is a better

Avenue by far,

But not always available to all.

So, stairs are necessary

To ascend to higher ground,

Though the thought of climbing

Simply may appall.

So, even though we groan and moan

The sad state of affairs,

Sometimes we have to suck it up

And simply climb those stairs.

 

Waiting for the Mail

Sitting by the window

With nothing much to do.

Bored with daytime TV;

All the soaps that weep and wail.

Sick of cooking. Sick of cleaning.

Looking for a change.

Desperation sets in while I'm

Waiting for the mail.

Hoping, longing, looking for

Some grand exciting news.

Perhaps a sweepstakes winner

Or a deal we can't refuse.

Perhaps a letter from

A long lost friend from years ago;

One who always used to

Pick me up when I was low.

And now it's here. The wait is over.

The mailman's at the door.

Anticipation bubbles out

Of every single pore.

A catalog, a magazine,

A bill, an ad for sale.

The same old crap as always.

I hate waiting for the mail.

Ding Dong - Doorbell

Ding dong - doorbell!

Oh, my!  Who could itbe?

The Avon lady?  Jehovah's Witness?

Opportunity?

Perhaps a salesman hawking wares?

The postman ringing twice?

A politician canvassing

Political advice?

Perhaps some neighbor looking for

Some gossip or some news.

Never hesitating to

Communicate their views.

Whoever rings your bell

One thing for sure. You cannot hide.

You must open up the door to see

Who's on the other side.

 

Blind Justice

I've heard it said that justice is blind.

It takes no sides, considers all

The evidence that's left behind;

Weighs each piece, then makes its call.

But when the scales are tilted

And advantage is unfair,

Who will rush to balance them?

Who takes time to care?

Who offers up a helping hand

When hope is left behind?

Each one of us must have a voice

For justice to be blind.

 

Fast Food

Fast food isn't always fast,

Although the name implies

You can quickly reap a bounty

Of burgers, shakes and fries.

Deep fried, pan fried, flamed or grilled,

On a seeded bun. Pastries filled with

Cream cheese, chocolate, whipping cream

Until they're bursting at the seam.

If calories are what you need,

With no thought for nutrition,

Make fast food your daily feed,

A deadly ammunition.

It's not a question of deep thought

Or noble attitude.

Just take a moment to reflect

And savor your fast food.