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.
Clackity clack... Clackity clack...
Beats the rhythm of the track.
Trekking deep into the night,
Straight on through to morning
light.
Whether freight or passenger,
The message is the same to her.
"Just keep rolling, moving on.
Dawn to dust... Dusk 'til
dawn."
The fate of nations on her back.
Clackity clack... Clackity clack.
There are many things that separate
Mankind from lower creatures;
The way we walk... The way we talk...
The way we flaunt our features.
But of all the many differences,
In spite of all intentions,
The things that makes mankind unique
Are his marvelous inventions.
This penchant man has to create
Has led him to believe
That he must rule; must dominate.
Behind him he must leave
Some miracle; a legacy
To those left to survive;
To make things better, easier;
A joy to be alive.
So, here's to all inventors
And the frustrations they vent
As they strive to improve our lot in life.
Long may they invent.
No one likes to do it.
Some will fight in bitter rage.
Most deny its' onset.
But none escape the wrath of age.
A pathway that leads forward;
No backward trails to trek.
He moves in one direction,
Demanding our respect.
No dawdling, no lingering
Or laughing in his face.
No stopping by the wayside.
He demands a steady pace.
He brings on many changes
In us as well as others.
He makes our souls seek common goals.
In time, he makes us brothers.
And if we take it gracefully,
Embrace him to the end,
We can make him our companion.
He can become our friend.
No one likes to do it.
But all must acquiesce.
The creature, age,
The teacher, age,
We all must pass his test.
Pretty bubbles in the air;
Floating, falling. Do you care
Where you came from?
Where you go?
Do you really want to know?
How I wonder what you see;
What it's like to be so free.
Riding swiftly on the wind,
Making all the world your friend.
Pretty bubbles in the air,
Do you wonder?
Do you care?
Greetings come with open arms.
A sheltering sign of welcome
Is placed above the door.
Offering comfort, free from harm,
The innkeeper doesn't notice
If you are rich or poor.
Every amenity for every guest;
The sheets and towels in every room
Have all been freshly changed.
The host puts forth his best.
The whole routine has been rehearsed.
The dialogue is prearranged.
Who is to serve and who is served;
There is little doubt for either
Which role they are meant to play.
But still each guest is quite unnerved
When it's check out time
And they learn who is to pay.
Whatever happened to manual labor?
It's now all computerized.
A labor-saving device is developed
for
Everything money buys.
Don't get me wrong.
It's not a complaint.
It's not that it fills me with
rage.
I'm merely concerned that
We've all become lazy in this,
The computer age.
The earth is stilled,
And all lie peacefully in their beds
Except for the night owl who stalks its prey,
And those too afraid to forage by day,
Or souls gone so far that they've lost their way.
It's
The sky is darkened;
Daylight departed hours before.
Only the stars to fill the sky
As the twinkle of moonlight catches the eye.
The earth seems to moan with a heavy sigh
At
We are reborn...
Rekindling the body with wondrous rest...
Reflecting on folly with family and friends...
Putting the wounds of the day on the mend...
Peace... Meditation... A new day begins
At
Teeth flashing, jaws gnashing,
Ripping flesh by width and length
The beast bursts out upon its' prey
With leopard speed and lion strength.
Leaving no time for anger to rise;
No time to react; no time to defend;
No time for tears to well up in the eyes;
No time to cry out for the aid of a friend.
Life starts so slowly...
Peacefully...
But it all can be over...
Suddenly.
Don't take life too seriously...
There's no need to moan and complain.
No one from the dawn of time
Has been able to explain
What it really truly is about,
Though millions vainly try.
But life will not apologize
Or give an alibi.
Slow down and take a moment
To reflect... To contemplate.
There's nothing so important...
Let it simmer...
Let it wait.
Patience is a friend to all;
A process primed to heal,
But when impatience blocks the way
It becomes a wall of steel.
From childhood on we are tempted;
Be it candy, sex or money,
Be it lurid lust,
A lust for wealth
Or the taste of milk and honey.
Temptation waits at every corner
Spinning webs from post to portal;
Dangling treats before our waiting eyes;
Knowing we are merely mortal.
Waiting, watching, patiently biding
It's time; it holds out its treasures.
Quietly hawking and dangling its prize
Filled with dozens of life's little pleasures.
The wise know his tricks.
They've seen him before.
They pass by without hesitation.
Still business is brisk as the unwary pause
And yield to the lure of temptation.
There's never a convenient time
For bad news to arrive.
And when it comes our utmost
thought
Is merely to survive.
Emotions rage. A hundred waves
Of ocean drown all feeling.
Depression, fear, dejection
Washing over; senses reeling.
Who is this who brings the news?
Who's the scapegoat to accuse?
A messenger come straight from
hell.
No one handles bad news well.
Sky cannons in the distance roar.
The darkening sky begins to speak.
The winds, once silent, rushing now
As mountain clouds rise to a peak.
Flash! The distance. Flash again!
Each one closer than before.
A silent prayer offered up,
"Please, let there be no
more."
But still they come as angry gods
Do battle in the sky.
The fiery clash of tempered steel.
The flash that stabs the eye.
Fiercely locked in mortal combat,
Carried swiftly by the wind,
Until fading in the distance.
The earth is calm again.
When it all settles down
And day winds to a close
The time to relax is at hand.
The shadows walk long,
And the lark sings its song
As the sunlight sinks into the sand.
The world is at peace.
The resting begins.
Oblivion washes our eyes.
And somewhere out there
A mournful refrain to the moon
As it climbs in the skies.
Peace settles over.
The night becomes stilled.
The hustle and bustle? No more.
The massive hysteria born by the
day
Washes softly upon evening's shore.
Morning breaks...
A new
beginning.
The earth wakes up again.
Perhaps today
I'll find a way
To make the world my friend.
Revived. Renewed.
Refreshed. Reborn.
Rekindled for a new day;
With keen anticipation of
Whatever comes my way.
Don't lay there like a lump
And wish the dawn to go away.
There's nothing like the morning
sun
To start a brand new day.
The sun settles down to the top of the trees
'Til the sky turns magenta and pink.
The night bird awakes to the passing of day,
And the stars start to flutter and wink.
And deep in the meadow, where waters stand still,
A melody somewhat off key
Comes lilting it's way to a listening ear...
A bullfrog jamboree.
And the crickets accompany them as they sing;
Though harmony is not their aim.
Their symphony sung to a departed sun
Seems little more than a game.
There is something quite soothing in hearing their song;
A secret; a treasure to keep;
A peaceful reminder of simpler times
As we quietly drift off to sleep.
Shhhhhhh!
We often speak in whispers
For many different reasons.
Like the undertow of ocean tides,
Or the passing of the seasons,
We seek to go unnoticed,
Though the subtlety we seek
Is a beacon drawing notice
Like the sun upon a peak.
Shhhhhhh!
There is a bit of gossip
Meant for only certain ears.
There are some thoughts when said out loud
Will amplify our fears.
There are some times when courtesy
Demands a lower voice,
And so we speak in whispers,
Not from pressure,
But by choice.
Shhhhhhh!
Puffing on those cigarettes
Can cause you nothing but regrets.
The air we breathe is bad enough
Without inhaling all that stuff.
The saddest part for those who smoke
Is they don't realize the joke.
The industry that hawks the dope,
The nicotine and tar, they hope
To pass off as a thing worthwhile.
They'd even have us walk a mile
For that special taste we only get
From puffing on their cigarette.
And while we cough and hack and wheeze
They feed on government subsidies
And laugh at us as we blow rings,
And pay a double price for things
As foolish as the killer weed
Instead of things we really need.
It's time we reevaluate
The things we love,
The things we hate,
The things we do, the things we don't,
The things we will, the things we won't.
The things we do with some regrets,
Like puffing on those cigarettes.
And the sweltering has started.
The streaming steaming rays,
The scorching blaze of afternoon.
Shadows creeping longer
Since the morning has departed,
And nowhere do you hear
The creaking squeaking joyous tune
Of crickets singing sweetly
To their lovers in the night.
Replaced by deafening silence;
Fed by scorching rays of light.
And humankind is hiding
Behind walls or under shade,
Except for those who worship sol.
They lie about the glade,
The beach, or mountainside.
They reach to touch his soul;
Their face upturned to the skies;
Their bodies bronzed and gold.
While others of us seek the shelter
Of a cooling shade
To reflect on quiet, simple times,
And sip our lemonade.
Got my feet back on the ground.
Feeling good.
Grown alert to sight and sound.
Feeling good.
Lungs a' pumping.,heart a' thumping,
Head is telling me that something
Good is taking place.
I'm feeling good.
Got me lifting. Got me shifting.
Got me running in the sun and
Rain and snow.
It's great to know
That everything's all right.
I'm feeling good.
Take the time to run a little.
Get out in the sun a little.
Eat good food and see the doc.
Be aware around the clock
That fitness is a full time job,
And many trends will tend to rob
Us of our health,
Our greatest wealth.
So, don't just sit there like a blob.
Get off your duff and do that stuff
You've meant to do so long.
Build up those leg., Build up those lungs.
And make that pumper strong.
Then you can say you've found the way
To live a fuller life,
To do the things you want to do
So you can go through life
Feeling good.
What I think of...
What I dream of...
What I pray
I'll find the way of...
Love.
