This Blog features the musings of Dennis Sidney Martin; Poet, Playwright and Novelist from Baltimore, Maryland. Feel free to browse the content and leave your comments.
Have you ever tried to make a rhyme
With orange as the key?
A simple word,
But how absurd!
How hard could it possibly be?
Orange, borange, corange, dorange,
'Unwords' come to mind.
Not a single one with meaning
Can I seem to find.
I guess it's simply meant to be,
A word that's so unique.
Nothing rhymes with orange
In this language that we speak.
Father cringes at the question,
Certain of its' imminent asking.
"Dad, why is the sky blue?"
Hoping to delay the answer,
Searching hard for understanding,
Wishing it was asked of someone,
Anyone but you.
There's no time for heavy research.
You should know, must know right now.
No delay, no time to play,
Just have your say and take your bow.
And if by chance one question paves
The way to yet another,
Don't hesitate, do not delay,
Just say, "Go ask your mother."
Give it up.
The horse is dead,
And beating it won't help.
No need to keep on
Strumming on those strings.
Time is up so
Just move on,
Next subject if you please.
Let's see what new events
Tomorrow brings.
The good lord had the right idea
By making sex so much good fun.
A simple act to be enjoyed,
Employed by almost everyone.
But if it wasn't such a joy,
A treat, a prince's ball,
If sex was more like medicine,
Would we be here at all?
Are we there yet?
Will we be there soon?
I need to know.
Can we stop here?
Are you listening?
Please, I've got to go.
What time is it?
What time will it be
When we get there?
When will we leave to
Go back? Please,
Tell me if you care.
Life's a highway that
We travel. Twisting, curving,
Right left turns.
Kindling fires of grand desire that
Smolders, flashes, flames and burns.
Calling to the open road
Which offers up its' dare.
Burning questions dwindle down
To one.
Are we there?
This is exquisite.
It surely won't last.
Enjoy it now while you can.
Pleasure is fleeting,
It glides on the wind,
No particular motive or plan.
It's there if you seek it,
Replies if you speak its name,
Won't flee in a flash,
Comes back if you beckon
Requiring no reckoning surcharge,
No credit, no cash.
To find your desires, your
Castle of dreams
Is to find your one fated friend.
To revel in life
Without asking questions,
Not knowing...
Not caring...
When will it end?
What was the question?
I forget.
Something to do with "why".
Why this? Why that?
Why ask me?
I'm just trying to get by.
Love this! Hate that!
Rich dudes! Fat cats!
Everything's a fraud.
If you find the answer,
Tell me.
Loudly I'll applaud.
All possessions carry costs.
Every service has its' levy.
Secret treasure lurks behind closed doors.
Everyone must serve a master.
We all give our due.
Every person pays a price.
Tell me, what is yours?
Old man Mooney wanted it all
Would have taken the whole world
Were it for the taking.
Money and Mooney were partners to envy,
Never too much when there's more for the making.
How much is enough?
How much do you want,
Be it money or madness or sex?
How does it perplex you?
When will you be sated?
Confess!
How much does it vex?
If stars in the heavens were in your possession,
If seas rolled by at your command,
If every favor were yours for the taking
Would there still be more you'd demand?
Open your eyes.
Take a wide look around you.
The oceans and stars are still there
Belonging to each of us in their own measure,
Enough for the whole world to share.
I wondered once while digging
In the frozen earth of winter
What is the fate of the lowly worm
When the ground is chilled stone cold?
Does it burrow deep?
Does it hibernate?
Does it sprout wings and fly south
Or does it put its wanderings on temporary hold?
Perhaps it's just a silly question
From a simple mind.
Perhaps the mystery is not important to resolve
But to the worm it's life or death,
Instinct motivated.
A complicated riddle to be solved.
Motivation holds the key to trigger a reaction
Like Pavlov's dogs reacting to the bell.
So if somebody asks you where
The worm sleeps in winter
Go ask the worms.
Only they can tell.
Decisions... Don't you hate them?
Choose me! Choose
me! No!
Me!
Competition runs amuck
Destroying subtlety.
Varied views with different hues of color,
Shades of gray.
Fine distinctions shattered truth
Mutated molds of clay.
Who's the liar?
Who can tell?
What difference does it make?
"Pay your money"..."take your chances"...
Pay for your mistakes.
Figuring the way to go...
The many or the few.
Choices come in different sizes.
Who decides?
You do.
The songbird at dawn fills the fresh morning air
With the nectar of music. He pridefully croons.
Rejecting submission, repeating with fervor,
It makes a soul wonder who taught him his tune.
He sings to the sun as it climbs the horizon
Sings to the moon as it floats through the clouds
Sings to the heavens as stars twinkle brightly
Sings for his lady alone in a crowd.
Life's little wonders so often forgotten
Or taken for granted... In sight yet unseen.
The scent of wild flowers, the burst of their colors
From pink to magenta and twelve shades of green.
Life is filled with wonders so subtle
That most pass us by as we hurry along.
It's only by stopping and waiting and listening
The songbird can lend us the joy of his song.
Nothing is forever except the earth and sky.
No one is eternal in this life game masquerade.
"Players on a stage" to quote the bard of days gone
by
Waiting for a sunny sky to rain on our parade.
Life's a simple matter when it's meant to be enjoyed.
Optimism dwells in hearts of single-minded men.
It's only complicated when endeavor is employed
To try and circumvent its' fated end.
There's nothing wrong with hoping for a better deal tomorrow
With planning for the future as we go about our play.
The future will be there forever in the earth and sky
But we are here...
This time... This place... Today.
Think of the songs on the airwaves today,
The street corner lyrics, the music they play.
Do you think that the muse would be slightly amused
Or highly insulted?
Just what would she say?
The things we now think of as oldies were once
Just as wicked and frantic and wild in their way.
But now they're nostalgic, recalling a memory,
A moment, a scene from a happier day.
Let's not be dramatic, not too critical,
Not bitter to act or express to accuse.
Our music once spent its' due time on the treadmill
Growing up slowly amusing the muse.
Questions come silently creeping to mind,
Queries come begging refined
resolution,
Posers seek answers to life's
little problems,
Processing logically to a
conclusion.
But storm troopers break down
the door of confusion,
Blitzkrieg, Gestapo, the
secret police
Collide in a mind filled with
thundering hooves
Of a stampede offering no
inner peace.
Where do they come from?
What is their aim?
How do we handle the tirade,
the flood?
Questions on queries on
posers and more
Taking our breath away,
Drinking our blood.
We can't control our
inquisitive nature.
Like curious cats, we simply
must know.
No other creature on this big
blue marble
Seeks out his future from
eons ago.
Constantly seeking...
Endlessly searching...
Longingly looking ahead and
behind...
Pondering posers... Thrashing
through logic...
Hoping beyond hope to find
peace of mind.
We are but children, lost and
abandoned
Making our way through an
ocean of thought.
Sailing on seas froth with
whitecaps of questions,
Searching for calm once the
battle is fought.
In
my life, and there’ve been lots of places
I’ve
wanted to see.
Don’t
mean to sound maudlin with
Vague
rumination
Or
overwrought sentimentality,
But
as I’ve grown older, and
Hopefully
wiser,
My
mindset has changed by degree.
Of
all the things I could do
With
my life
There’s
just one thing I want to be:
Happy.
Can’t
think about all the things
That
might have been
As
Autumn leaves fall from my tree.
The
past is behind, The future unknown.
Right
now is the moment that
Sets
my mind free.
And
though the world taunts,
And
teases and tempts
To
seek out a new pedigree,
The
answer remains in
A
playful refrain.
There’s
just one thing I want to be:
Happy.
All
that infinite energy
Wasted
on play.
Trashed
and tired at the end of the day
To
sleep without worries or cares.
Pity
that time comes to shatter fond dreams,
To
realize life’s
Not
at all as it seems,
Filled
with toil, stress and struggles
To
disconnect schemes with
Recurrence
that hardly seems fair.
Now,
as I grow older, I seldom regret
All
the blather and bother,
The
fuss and the fret that
Once
gave me to fury
When
viewed as a threat and
Suffered
this fool at his play.
I
breathe a deep sigh,
Meet
the foe eye to eye,
Find
the calm and compassion that’s
Always
nearby.
Let
the madness dissolve
To
a crystalline sky.
Mulling
softly
Til
it all goes away.
But
we are still family
As
surely as whimsy
Breathes
life to our story.
We
dare not deny or decry
Our
connection,
Or
hasten the pace
Of
our grand allegory.
Brothers
and sisters
To
misses and misters
Through
battles and blisters
Our
shoulders have merged.
And
though we may prattle
And
even do battle,
Our
swords never rattle
Save
in common surge.
We
search not for dragons
And
dream not of peril.
We
seek none of vengeance,
For
it is not ours.
We
live for the moment
Alive
in each other
And
in our alliance
We
find our true powers.
What’s
on the other side,
Only
that there must be someplace
Where
the spirit can abide.
Far
beyond this earthly plane is
A
wonderous world we cannot see,
But
know without disquiet,
Exists
in perfect harmony.
The
frets and fears of this life are
Not
allowed to enter there.
There’ll
be no pain or sorrow,
No
heavy burden to bear.
Leaving
at the dawn of Spring
As
silent harps around you play,
I
could not measure your last breath as,
In
peace, you softly slipped away.
Your
gentle voice, a memory now,
Your
loving touch I’ll feel no more.
But
solace comes with knowing that
I’ll
see you on the other shore.
“If
you can’t say something nice,
Then
you shouldn’t say
A
single thing at all.”
I
have a small confession
When
I hear this sage advice,
That
I sometimes have a tendency
To
stumble, slip and fall.
I
try. I do. I really try
To
keep my tongue in check,
Even
when I’d like to
Wring
somebody’s scrawny neck.
I
try my best to hold it in
And
not speak out in fury.
I
tell myself I have no right
To
act as judge and jury.
Stepping
back and breathing deep,
I
measure my reaction.
Is
confrontation necessary?
Does
my case have traction?
Anger
is a fiery cake
Delivered
by the slice.
Best
to let the fire subside
To
embers.
Just
be nice.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
