Dennis S. Martin's Blog, page 96

The Hugger

Oh, here she comes again.

Again.

With arms outstretched like a

Mother hen.

Every greeting she begins

With a robust hug of

A long-lost friend.

 

May have just seen you yesterday, but

Gonna hug you anyway.

Like hungry bears besiege their prey

Defying you to break away.

 

She swoops and smothers as she clings,

And you pray she’ll unclench her wings,

But marvel at the joy she brings

And how the air around her sings.

 

As light as bubbles in the air

Her happiness spreads everywhere.

She’ll give your heart

The fondest tug

Swaddled in a joyous hug.

 

Oh, That’s Funny

Isn’t it odd? The things that were

Once viewed peculiar

Are now accepted as normal.

Once solemn and prim

Like the words of a hymn

Spoken now as obtuse and informal.

 

What was in is now out,

What was then is no more,

Every whimsey and trend

Quickly kicked out the door

When a new frill or angle

Is dangled on string.

And every new-fangled contraption is king 

Til the gloss loses luster

And new starts to fade,

Then everyone seeks out

A fresh escapade.

 

Oh, fickle and feckless

These humans must be

To ornate their days

With such trite filigree

When matters of import

Grow tattered with age,

Then find their delight

Seeking out the new rage.

 

Willfully Stubborn

Old Henry was a cantankerous soul

Who would gripe any point to submission.

Those who had known him

(And some wanted to stone him)

Knew stubbornness was his tradition.

 

He’d argue the news or political views

With a very short fuse to ignition,

Tear down your beliefs

In a volley of grief

With the fury of nuclear fission.

 

Most folks would relent

And escape to their tent,

Pack it up and scurry away.

But he didn’t care if

They choked on thin air.

Didn’t ask to be irked anyway.

 

But old Henry, the loner,

Had a different persona

Behind all the bluster and bluff.

Both family and friends knew

It all was pretend

When he acted all grumpy and gruff.

 

Behind the façade that he tried to ramrod

Was a mate with a heart of pure gold. 

And his ornery ways will

Endear him with praise 

When his story is finally told.

 

Kindhearted Soul

Finding a heart filled with

Kindness and good

Is more precious than

Diamonds and gold.

The joy found in giving,

In words and in deeds,

Can hardly be measured,

Bartered or sold.

 

And if by chance

You can lend a favor

To someone in need

To lighten their load

You’re sure to kiss karma

When time turns the table

And you are in need

Of a hand to hold.

 

And we’ll rest contented

When our story is told

As we follow the form of

A kind-hearted soul.

 

Technology Baffles Me

All these gadgets and gizmos

And new-fangled dilly-bobs

That only a ten-year-old

Can understand,

They hex me and vex me

Beyond all distraction,

Leaving me mixed in a

Pit of quicksand.

 

I read the instructions,

All detailed in language that’s

Totally foreign to my generation,

All wrapped in enigma,

Impossible babble that

Stretches my brain

Beyond imagination.

 

I guess that I shouldn’t feel

Such consternation.

The answers are there

Buried deep in debris, but I

In frustration 

Throw hands in the air.

This new technology baffles me.

 

Mindful Folly

My head, so drenched in mindful prattle,

So much that prudent reason fails.

Intent on being in the moment,

Ignoring all of life’s travails.

 

Wistfully, I breathe a sigh,

A winsome whisper to the fates,

To fill my buoyant breast with calm

And all the joy it emanates.

 

Gentle as the waters flow

To softly brush against the sand

As soothing sounds of fife and flute

Float airily across the land.

 

And I am you

And we are they

And every us is all but one,

And blissful peace is ours to share

From glistening dawn to setting sun.

 

Every moment bids me stay

To marvel in its mellow light

Til I am blessed to find my way

And shed the darkness of the night.

 

Oh, Foolish Empath

Feel the joy, the grief,

The anger, the pain.

Feel the folly of love

And the hope that remains.

Know the sadness that follows

The thundering rain.

Feel the fingers of fear

Driving wise men insane.

 

Every note, every song,

Every hullabaloo.

All the masses and mobs

Closing all around you

Til control is a stranger

And options are few,

And your once sage advice

Is no longer in view.

 

It strains beyond reason,

It weighs beyond doubt,

The burden the empath

Must ferry about.

The taking, the giving,

The in and the out,

The searching of souls

Within, without.

 

I Can’t Watch the News

Every night it leads the same:

The muggings, the murders,

The scandals, the floods.

Tragedy always the head of the game.

Quick to the scene

At the first sight of blood.

And though the excuses

Might be loose and lame

The sponsors insist that they

Scrape through the mud

To find the despicable,

Drag them to fame and

Drop them on me with a

Thump and a thud.

 

Now, don’t get me wrong,

We all must be informed

When trouble surround us

We need to be warned.

But spare the sensations

When you blow the horn

And just give us facts

Without all the forlorn.

Keep me abreast, yes,

But please, skip the ruse.

Otherwise, I simply

Cannot watch the news.

 

We had a Pretty Good Run

Could this be the face that once

Inspired another’s heart to beat?

The cruel mirror doesn’t lie

And I could cry at what reflects.

The happy pair that once danced there,

Now a solo, incomplete.

Maddened by the loss until

The voice of reason interjects.

 

Difficult to carry on as one

When two was so familiar.

Waiting for those sweet words

You would whisper in my ear.

Greeting every morning,

Every dawning of a new year.

Thriving without hesitation,

Together facing every fear.

 

In my memory your face glows

As bright as morning sunrise,

Follows every step I take

Until the day is done.

And I will never lose the love

I always found in your eyes.

Through smiles, through tears,

We shared a perfect run.

 

Where are You Goin’, Sparkey?

Where you headed out to, Sparkey

In such an all-fired hurry?

Don’t you know there’s danger

In this helter-skelter place?

Creeps and cruisers,

Crooks and cons of

Cagey, crafty purpose, adept at getting what you’ve got

Then disappearing with no trace.

 

If there’s one thing that aging has taught

It’s ne’er cast “caution to the wind.”

Though chance may often favor,

Best to savor sweet discretion.

A second thought, a hesitation

Often proves the best of friends.

Far better than the mournful sigh

Of willful indiscretion

 

Not to say, “Don’t go. Don’t play.”

No one should need to live in fear.

But heed the voices of experience

When whispered in your ear.