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.
Life is just a deck of
cards To shuffle and deal, win
or lose. All who choose to play
the game Accept the levy of their
fate. The finite possibilities
are unforeseen Til hands are called and Kismet floats with subtle
kiss To spin her wheel of
destiny.
Eight ball rests upon the
rail Or teeters at the pockets
edge As fools lay wager, skill
or luck, Bank or combination shot.
The level of a steady
hand, The measure of what’s
meant to be, Divinity or providence,
the End results are still the
same.
And luck is but a fickle
mistress Pleading for just one
more chance to Grab the glory found in
fortune With no thought of
consequence, While Karma lingers near
the borders On her wild horse
carousel And fate the only one who
knows The final chapter of the
tale.
No one likes to say
goodbye When loved ones part with
mournful sigh And dare to beg the
question, “Why?” It turns a beating heart
to stone.
A tear or two to soothe
the soul, But still the story goes
untold. The ending lurking in the
cold Unyielding darkness, all
alone.
Never seems to go away, Recurring with each break
of day. A bitter price for hearts
to pay, A chill that settles to
the bone.
Should be, Must be, Will be more. Someday upon another
shore, Another chance, Another door, Another world where hope
is grown in Gardens lush and free
from pain, We will meet to love
again.
I know that feeling, The
feeling of one. Adrift on a desert, A
whole world undone, Praying for shelter from Cruel
midday’s sun, No word of comfort From
anyone to Ease the anguish Left
in the wake of A melted mind, of A
heart that breaks. Tossed in the rush of A
fiery lake, Trapped in the rubble Left
by the quake.
If time is the healer A
broken heart needs Then hasten its passing Wherever
it leads. More weathered miracles, More
races to run. Faith
finds Her passion When
worlds come undone.
Sir Raven rides on velvet
wings to Cast and eerie shadow on
an unsuspecting, Unprepared, unenlightened
muddled mob of Misfits eager to be
pleased, Who dance the day away
with ease And pray the daylight
fade away To mask the folly of
their play.
Darkness treks with
silent footfall Striding west to chase
the sun, Painting scenes of
ghostly gray to Cover cabin, field and
farm. The Quiet drifter’s subtle
charm Speaks soft romance by
candlelight, The coming of the sacred
night.
Blessings of a peaceful
slumber Grace the chambers of
repose to Chase and banish
daylight’s demons, Consequence of battles
born. Rest a weary heart til
morn To wake upon a newborn
day as Nightfall gently slips
away.
Crying? No. No, don’t need any
more crying. Had enough of that sad
condition. Battled that bastard into
submission Forward and back To the gates of Perdition. Flooded a river, a lake
and a sea leaving Only a desert inside of
me.
Forget you? No. I can never forget
you. Don’t want to. Don’t want
to miss the Smile in your eyes, The flower of surprise
you always grew, How your world was always
fresh and new, The downy feathers of a
heart so true. The oneness I could only
find in you.
Sad days are worth
remembering, They’re with us anyway. A tear-stained passage
from an old love letter, A wax-nostalgia marathon Of berry-scented memories
To make the days to come
feel so much better.
Somewhere in a distant
gaze The vast horizon looms
and lords His majesty upon the
lands, Touching, clinging earth
to sky, Reaching far beyond the
eye where Angels walk and eagles
fly and Sunsets whisper with a
sigh as Footprints dance across
the sands.
Clouds, like artist,
paint the heavens With their shades of
rakish gold as Silent thunder begs to
speak the Comfort of a long-lost
friend. The Courage gathered to begin
to Set a broken heart to
mend and Learn to live in peace
again in Meadows just beyond those
peaks.
Withered hope may yet
survive to Flourish on a distant
rise, a Subtle spark to light the
eye. Dreamers
never question why.
Waiting for a call that
never comes, Clinging to a mem’ry from
a broken hollow shell. I only paint my walls
with promises, A candle in the window, As silence lingers in a
way I’ve come to know so
well.
Heaven seemed so close
that I could taste, Til all that milk and
honey disappeared without a trace And left me standing here
wondering what to do. I wipe the tearstains
from my pillow As my heart breaks right
in two.
You said, “I’ll call
you.” You
knew it wasn’t true. And I believed in you. I
feel like such a fool. I’ll take my broken heart
and put it on the mend, And maybe someday I can
learn to love again.
Time can cure, but some
wounds never heal. Holding on to better times
Can only serve to steal A chance for happiness to
share With someone new. Passing up on choices for
A dream that won’t come
true.
Caution! Cuidado! Piso mojado. Floors may be hazardous, Slippery when wet. Though
we Try to foresee her with
oracle eyes, The future rides vapors Of hope and regrets.
She slides past the
window, barely perceptible. Vast possibilities offer
a tease Building blinding
ambition of princes and palaces, Dreams of a life rich
with comfort and ease.
And who is her master? Who is the one who holds
every key? Unlocks every door? Who is her slave? Her
butler? Her servant? Doing her bidding while
swabbing her floors.
Vague preparation
prescribes perspiration And ego engages in
mocking behavior. But no one may know when The master comes calling,
So we slide across wet
floors And pray for her favor.
