Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 89

Laughter

Ha!

Ha! Ha!

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Tee hee...

Ho Ho.

Hmm...

Laughter's little string of pearls

Trips merrily across the floor,

Swelling with contagious force,

Demanding more, always more.

 

Sweet confusion striking fancies

Deep within a secret well,

Triggering a multitude of charming,

Chiming, ringing bells.

Swells of passion and compassion

Fills the cup to overflow,

Quelling fears and chasing tears

To caves abandoned long ago.

 

Laughter... God's sweet medicine...

Panacea for the soul.

A miracle more precious

Than the wealth of silver and of gold.

 

...Where Miracles Wander

Miracles roamed the earth a million, billion years ago.

It comes as no surprise there's still a few around today.

Relics of the unexplained phenomena expounded

Point by point to no avail,

Their meaning lost along the way.

Earth revolves in time and space.

Mere mortals can't explain the why,

The where, the when it all began.

Conjecture humbly waits its' turn.

Theory poses to expose the truth

In all its' glory,

But theories must be proven

Or else they crash and burn.

 

So, we believe in miracles.

Why not buy the farm?

A shield to raise against all fears...

A quilt to keep us warm.

There is so much our feeble minds

Will never understand. That's why

Miracles accompany the walk of every man.

 

Who Am I?

A question asked by every human

Since the early dawn of time...

A poser echoed through the ages

Both in prose and simple rhyme.

 

Like Valjean in Hugo's epic

Crying out when day was done,

Needing desperately to know...

Who was 2-4-6-0-1?

 

Where does life lead when it's over?

Will there be another side?

Is there only stillness waiting

When we reach the other side?

 

Pondering reveals no answer.

Desperate measure?  Noreply.

Still the question haunts and lingers,

Prodding... Probing...

Who am I?

 

Two-Faced Friend

Which mask do you wear tonight

With darkness breaking into light,

Showering a fool's delight

With merriment and mirth?

Will you be a trusted friend,

Musketeers until the end,

Chasing rainbows in the wind,

Blind to principal and worth?

 

Will you turn and fly away

Like some strange angry bird of prey?

Intent that all must go your way

You spread your wings and fly.

So unfaithful... So unkind...

Leaving one to bask behind,

Mellowing in pools of wine...

Wondering, why?

 

Whistling

Smiling Jack Mack was a whistler's whistler,

Any tune, any time, he knew them all.

We always knew when old Jack was coming,

His well-rounded tones floating soft down the hall.

 

Always in fashion his cheerful rendition

Of well-meaning flavor to savor, enjoy,

And keep the sweet memory deep in subconscious,

Like that of a child with his favorite toy.

 

Whistles are cheering

And whistlers happy

Like old Jack Mack as he'd joyfully croon.

Life is too short to deaden with sorrow.

Look to tomorrow and whistle a tune.

 

Going, Going, Gone for Good

Day one... Ground zero...

Naked and afraid.

Empty coffers ready to be filled.

Nothing short of primal instinct

And an unknown spirit,

Soil unfurrowed waiting to be tilled.

Adolescence... Rights of passage...

Gangly, sprouting youth.

Minds all knowing, not to be deterred.

World before you at your feet,

You search for your own truth, while

Secretly you hang on every word.

Pains and pressures of adulthood,

Passing of the torch,

Hoping for a miracle or two.

Sudden realization that it's

Slipping through your fingers,

Wondering if they'll remember you.

Golden dreams mature to let you

Fully realize that

You wouldn't trade it even if you could.

The journey is the treasure, from

Day one until the end we're forever

Going, going, gone for good.

 

Is Anybody Listening?

You've beaten your fist upon your chest,

Banged your head against the wall,

Rang bells 'til the clappers screamed

For mercy from incessant toil,

You've raised your bullhorn to the crowd

In rabble-rousing furtive call,

Ranted, raved and sang your song

Until your blood began to boil.

Every trick at your disposal,

Every sleight of hand device

Employed, developed, cultivated

Makes your cause more interesting.

Stark reality revealing

Facts and figures to suffice.

Now the tricky part concludes.

Is anybody listening?

 

Chasing the Nothing

All too often we run the good race,

Chase the right chase to no avail,

Only to wind up with little or nothing

To show for our effort. No Holy Grail

At the end of our search

Though we've covered each corner,

Probed every crevice

Down each avenue.

Swift and elusive the nothing finds shelter

Away from the probing eyes,

Tucked out of view.

The nothing is always there lurking in shadows,

Living on instinct, primed to survive.

Chasing the nothing is what makes us human.

Reaching for stars keeps our spirit alive.

 

The Local Fare at the Local Fair

Some things, thankfully, never change.

Nice to have constants in our lives.

Like the local fare at the local fair

Where tradition thrives and good times survive.

Every year we saddle up to make our fateful trek

Through old familiar blocks of neighborhoods.

A sojourn of nostalgic measure, habit more or less,

A sampling of sorts of local goods.

Strolling leisurely through the park

Where artisans display their craft,

Music wafting through the air,

A baby cried, a jester laughed.

 

Becoming an observer to a passive fashion show,

Aimlessly we stroll just to get nearer,

Wond'ring what possesses some folks to go out in public.

Do these people even own a mirror?

Fashion statements, I suppose,

Meant to be provocative,

Not judgmental, just amused.

Let folks live as they would live.

Tattoos shine in bold display on

Arms and shoulders, legs and breasts.

Rag tops, flop hats, baby strollers

Roam the midway east to west.

 

Grab some fries and lemonade,

Corn dog, burger on a bun.

One last look, a sweep nostalgic.

Turn and go... The day is done.

 

Sitting On the Edge of the Universe

This insignificant speck of dust

Sitting on the edge of the universe

Is hearth and home to millions of billions,

Billions of trillions and even more.

 

Once ruled by giants, both gentle and fierce,

Erupting from nothing to lush forest green.

In an instant the giants are gone and forgotten,

Traced to a fossil, erased from the scene.

 

Now it is man who resides on the summit,

Cocky and bold with a confident beam,

Filled with a history, guided by memory,

Brash curiosity armed with his dreams.

 

The stalking moon parades through the heavens

Bidding him come to seek out his fate.

Unbridled adventure around every corner

Forbids him from patience, will not let him wait.

 

Never quite knowing what made it all happen,

Theory on theory, he tries to converse.

Wondering what gods collided to leave him

Sitting here on the edge of the universe.