Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 87

Taking the Decorations Down

Did you ever wonder,

As you drive around the town,

Why people wait so long to take

Their decorations down?

 

Holidays are joyful

And it's nice to decorate.

But when it's gone, it's over,

So, why do we hesitate?

 

Perhaps they help to keep our smile

From turning upside down,

But it's a pain when we must take

The decorations down.

 

The Complaint Department

Sorry, sir or madam,

The complaint department's closed.

You'll need to tell someone

Who gives a damn.

I've simply heard enough of

Your inane and moany whining.

Come again tomorrow.

Thank you, ma'am.

 

Why is it people whine and moan

And cry and plead in bitchy tones?

Why can't they just accept things

And react as if they're fully-grown?

 

It's children's ploy to make a noise

And fuss when things don't go theirway.

Maturity should bring us reason,

But it doesn't, sad to say.

So, I repeat redundantly,

As I sit relaxed, reposed,

This complaint department,

Regrettably, is closed.

Rivers and Lakes

Rolling, flowing, freely filling,

Mighty rivers run downhill,

Capturing each dewdrop

They encounter on the way.

Seeking larger basins to

Deposit all their bounty;

Gravity, it seems,

The only law they must obey.

 

Greening all the lands that would

Lay bare without their favor;

Playful home to creatures

Who exits on fin and gill.

Bountiful the harvest

Planted near her mighty shoulders.

No great plan to undertake;

No duty to fulfill.

 

Lakes and rivers are the givers.

Mankind takes from rivers and lakes.

 

Aches and Pains

Oooh! My gosh! My goodness!

That never hurt before.

In younger days I could overdo

And still come back for more.

 

But these days even simple acts,

Like the turning of the head,

Can cause an aching in the neck

And be a source of dread.

The acts of bending, kneeling,stooping,

Reaching, grabbing hold,

Offer up a quick reminder

Of the pains of growing old.

It makes it necessary to learn

Modesty and pace;

To deal in moderation

And not try to run a race.

 

The wise man learns that brawn

Is not a substitute for brains.

It helps when age requires us all

To deal with aches and pains.

 

Aromatics

Whatare your favorite aromatics?

I'msure that you have quite a few.

Ihave some thoughts with which you may agree.

Come!Let me share them with you.

 

Whatcould be better than freshly baked bread?

Itmakes the mouth water;

A pallet'sdelight.

Almostas refreshing as gentle spring rain

Comingsoftly and quiet on a hot dusty night.

 

Thesweet lofty smell of vanilla in baking

Arriveson wings sent from heaven above.

Thebold brawny scent of a coat made of leather;

Anotheraroma that I've come to love.

 

Toopen the door, for the very first time,

Ofa brand new car as it sits on the lot.

Tobreathe in deeply the heavenly scent

Ofyour favorite coffee fresh from the pot.

 

Butof all of the odors abundant on earth

Totease the olfactory nerve,

Thelilacs of spring are my personal choice.

Amemory cherished, to keep, to preserve.

 

So,keep these and others, your own favorite scents.

Rememberand treasure them well.

Oneof god's greatest gifts to the human condition

Isour marvelous, glorious sense of smell.

 

The Sun Still Rises

The world may look as if it's gone

To Hades in a basket.

The streets may cry with hatred;

The open road with fear.

The battlegrounds explode

To give combatants the impression

That the world itself has come apart;

May not survive the year.

But the sun still rises.

 

And you may try to run away

And hide from grave misfortune;

Denying the existence of

Mortality and fears,

And you may quake to know

That each beginning has an ending;

That all must someday be

The sad recipient of tears.

But the sun still rises.

 

And though all life may pass away,

Come the dawning of the day,

The sun still rises.

Winter Trees

A thousand million tentacles

Reaching skyward toward the sun,

Laid bare against the winter sky,

The summer's tale undone.

Where once the hue of green and gold

Stood succulent and lush,

A nakedness abides amidst

The frigid snow and slush.

 

Winter trees are stark, foreboding,

Knowing no defeat.

They reach out to the sun in hope,

Like beggars in the street.

Waiting for the gentle spring,

The kindness of a friend,

To give its warmth and sustenance

And bring it life again.

 

Glimpses from a Window

What is a poem?

These lyrical little glimpses oflife,

Snippets from the window of one'ssoul;

A tiny picture framed in rhyme,

Formed by words as they unfold.

'Come, let me show, let me demonstrate',

Pleads the poet's gentle sigh.

'Let my words paint a landscape oflife,

Of the sun and stars, moon and sky.'

 

Quickly the words leap out from thepage

Flowing swiftly like watersdownstream;

Painting a portrait of metaphor,

Creating a world filled with wonderfuldreams.

Finding our souls with a measure sosure

That the truth of it cuts like aknife.

Leaving us wondering who stole ourtale

In a glimpse from the window of life.

 

Truth

One man's truth is another's deception.

Does this mean that truth is subjective?

Or could it just be that the angle of truth

Is dependent upon one's perspective?

 

Man's predilection of each situation

Contrives to bend truth in his favor.

But truth stands too tall; it's metal too strong

To buckle, bend or waiver.

 

Lies are for fools looking for an adventure.

Deceit knows no ally, no friend.

When the pan clears to the gold at its bottom,

Truth is the metal of men.

 

Health

Eat right, live right,

Exercise both day and night,

Don't carouse and run about

Or form bad habits.

Never shout

Or get upset and blow your top,

Avoid those cigarettes and pop.

Keep up with the latest craze,

Miracle medicine to amaze

And keep you young and trim and fit.

Never give up... Never quit.

What the hell does it all mean?

Rag-tag dirty... Squeaky clean...

Does it matter all that much

To need to lean upon a crutch?

Health is just a frame of mind,

Patchwork mentally entwined,

Lightly pulsing through our veins,

Exiting to sad refrains.