To listen to my interview with Yvonne Perry from Writers in the Sky Creative Writing Service, click the link below:

http://www.audioacrobat.com/play/WWnVMVsW

Another poem from Rhythmic Notions

Like Drunken Cowboys

There’s a place inside my head where hurt never filters in,
A place to heal, where I can know I’m my own best friend,
Sometimes find it easier than facing reality,
Like drunken cowboys living without a dream.

Call me crazy; call me a fool, for shutting out the world.
I just need time to contemplate the way my life’s unfurled.
Wouldn’t want to take it out on everyone around
Like drunken cowboys tearing up the town.

I don’t want to think about forever,
Trying hard to make it through the storm.
Toughening my feelings into leather
Til it just doesn’t matter anymore.

Take a step back to a time when
Life was a free-for-all,
Where disagreements could always be settled in a barroom brawl,
Where consequences and concerns were not a high priority,
Like drunken cowboys living wild and free.

Listen to my podcast on May 22, 2009

On May 14 I will be recording a podcast (audio Interview) with Writers In the Sky Creative Writing Service. The interview, conducted by Yvonne Perry, will be available for download on Friday, May 22 on Yvonne's Blog at http://yvonneperry.blogspot.com/. We will be talking about my newly released book of poetry "Rhythmic Notions: A Collection of Songpoems".

Rhythmic Notions is complete and published on lulu.com

This is the final songpoem in Rhythmic Notions:

There Will be More

So, you think this is it,
This is the end.
Maybe have to go back
And start over again.
Well, all I can tell you is
There will be more.
The fountain still runs,
The water’s still sweet,
And I’ll bring you flowers
The next time we meet,
And kisses await
When you open the door.

No one can know what lies up ahead,
A promise unspoken, words left unsaid.
You can fill up an ocean,
Look behind every door.
Still, there will be more.

Sometimes it seems
We run out of time.
It gets too late
For sweet talk and wine
And we get too weary
To see what’s in store.
There’s a new day tomorrow,
A new chance to start,
To chase all those dreams
Held deep in your heart,
And always remember
There will be more.

No one can know what lies up ahead,
A promise unspoken, words left unsaid.
You can fill up an ocean,
Look behind every door.
Still, there will be more.

Page 90 of Rhythmic Notions. Almost done now.

Kiss Me Again

I remember it like yesterday,
The first time that you kissed me,
How it filled my simple heart with joy.
So far lost in happiness
Even now I must confess I was
Like a child with his favorite toy.
But you became so much more to me
In a world where we agree.
It’s a game we play where we both win.
I can’t wait for the next time,
The taste of your sweet lips on mine.
Kiss me once and then
Kiss me again.

Kiss me in the morning light.
Kiss me when we say goodnight
And a thousand kisses in between.
Tempt me with those lips that thrill.
I can’t seem to get my fill.
Kiss me once and
Kiss me again.

The years have slipped away somehow,
Brought us into here and now,
All the roads we’ve travelled hand in hand.
Hasn’t always been such fun
Putting devils on the run,
Keeping up with what our lives demand.
But one constant still remains
Through the trials and pouring rains,
One place where I know we always win.
Your sweet kisses every night
Always seen to make it right, so
Kiss me once and then
Kiss me again.

Today I finished poem number 50 of 100 poems in my latest collection, "Rhythmic Notions". Half way through.

First poem from Rhythmic Notions

Feel the Rhythm

Do you feel the rhythm flowing
Through the life-veins of the street?
Catch the gentle rolling motion
As it plays beneath your feet.
In the early morning prattle
From a layered world of dreams
Comes an overflow of memory
Floating soft upon a stream.

And the way to turn is so clear
As you step into the heat.
You’re just listening to the rhythm
And following the beat.
It’s a million miles to Heaven
But the journey can be sweet
If you let the rhythm carry you away.

There’s a postcard in your mailbox
From a lover far away,
And you read each word a thousand times
Til the letters seem to fade.
And the rhythm of the words fall softly
From the printed page
And form another memory
To lock into your safe.

But the world keeps spinning,
Swaying to the rhythm of your soul
Til the evening falls just like a welcome friend,
And the beat subsides but never dies,
Just rests upon your mind,
And tomorrow you will start it all again,
And the rhythm wraps its arms around you
Like a long lost friend.

A new project

If you have come to this blog to view postings about Hilary Clinton or Barrack Obama, or if you are looking for pornographic blogs with heavy sexual content, you have come to the wrong place. I am a writer, but I don't write about politics or sex.

For the most part, I am a poet; although I have been known to write a novel or 2 and a few stage plays. If you are interested in poetry, read on. If you came here looking for something else, I apologize.

That said, I have a new project that I just recently started. It is a new collection of song-poems titles Rhythmic Notions. I will have some postings soon, so keep coming back. And feel free to comment. Thanks.

Dennis S Martin

Well, it has taken a while but I finally finished my latest collection of poems. It's called "Grace Forever" and is now listed on Lulu.com. Once I have had a chance to edit a printed copy, I plan to make it available on the online bookstores. This collection was a labor of love for me, as it was dedicated to my late Aunt Grace. She was a wonderful person and a real angel to me and my family when I was growing up. God bless you, Aunt Grace. I know you're up there watching over me.

something new

At last, I have started a new collection of poems. Working title, "Grace Remembered". Here is the opening poem:

Grace

Swift… The sword can be
So unforgiving
Striking at random
In tandem or thrice
Stalking the night in
Succinct predilection
Pumped with bravado
Knowing no shame

Where is my White Knight
On galloping steed?
Swift to the fray he rides
Brandishing steel
Taking the mantel of
Conquering angel
Holding the laurel of
Sweet victory

Grace be my savior
Hope my redeemer
Yielding a kiss on
My welcoming cheek
Offering manna replete
Sweet with honey
Wrapped in blue velvet to
Comfort my soul

Blessings abide as
The sun hugs horizons
Always tomorrow in
His home or mine
Filled with a confidence
Uncompromising
Fear cannot live in
A house blessed by grace.

iwritesome

There hasn't been a lot going on lately. Haven't been writing much (any) lately even though I have several ideas in my head. Ideas for a new play, a novel and who knows what else. Will post again soon.
iwritesome

iwritesome

iwritesome My email address has changed. Now it is: dsmartin49@comcast.nst

iwritesome

iwritesomeIt's done. Wordprattle is complete and has been published at www.lulu.com.

iwritesome

iwritesomeI know I haven't posted anything for a while. No reason. Still working on Wordprattle. Only a few more pieces to go until it is finished and I can publish it on Lulu.com. Here is the latest poem in the collection:

Erotica

It’s everywhere. You just can’t miss it.
Turn on the TV,
Open a book,
A magazine,
It’s even plastered on billboards
In every direction your eyes turn to look.

Not that I mind.
Plus years have taught me to
Pick my poison in meager amounts,
Control the urge to
Act out in passion,
To dance round the fire
So the heat really counts.

When I was younger
I lapsed into overdose
Kicking and screaming,
Could not get my fill.
But now I am calm.
I take it in stride as
I stroll the far side
Of erotica’s hill.

working on a new collection: Wordprattle

iwritesomeThis new collection will be comprised of 99 poems; not the usual 72. Here are a few to wet your whistle

Word Prattle


Its only words,
But beware of their strength.
Words to make mountains
Come tumbling down.
Loud confrontations,
Bold conversation
Where blanket cessation
Of reason abounds.

Droning in monotone,
Boring the furniture.
Singing in baritone,
Thrills for the soul.
Spreading the news so
Exciting, inviting.
Broadcasting views to
The suffering folds.

Beaches awash in
The white sands of history
Seeking to separate
Sane from absurd.
Time prattles on
Without judgment, unruffled.
Destinies turn
On a single word.



Meanderings

Would you make a sagging willow
Weep from lack of sunlight?
Tear-stained earth her pillow as
She cowers in dismay.

Rivers ramble rakishly
Between her hills and highlands,
Stumbling and bumbling
She knows no other way.

Flying high above the fray
Through multilayered billowings,
With eagle eye that seeks to spy
On details rarely seen.

And willow hugs the riverbank
To watch the ever-constant flow.
Peaceful her meanderings
Among the meadows green.

Will you give your gift of life?
Service those who patient wait.
Quench the thirst of all in need
Before it is forever late.



*
***
*****
*******
*********
***********
*************

Epiphany

Dawning sun lifts by degree
Rising out of tragedy,
Blazing into ecstasy.
Poets find epiphany.


*************
***********
*********
*******
*****
***
*


Blather

All this foolish blathering
A constant melee of dismay,
Seeps and creeps from hence to whence,
A spicy searing sausage bite.

Tantalizing tempting taunts to
Hypnotize, capsulize,
Mesmerize and cauterize these
Burning, bleeding bogus eyes.

When will logic realize the
Waste that walks on thunder-thighs?
That leads astray the senses and
Explains away with alibis.

Keep your senseless blather.
Hold your restless tongue at bay.
Save it for another.
I’m not listening anyway.



Absentminded

I was gonna, honestly!
Sidetracked temporarily.
Wasted brain cells foolishly
Detract from what is meant to be.

Freakish how it’s there, then not,
Vapor vanished from the pot.
Apparitions cold and hot of
Things remembered, things forgot.

I’ll get to it. Write it down,
Every adjective and noun.
Planting feet on solid ground to
Stay alert to sight and sound.

Might just need a helpful hint,
A nudge until my mind is bent
Around the central element of
What it was, where it went.

Where’s the trick? The finger twine?
The one sure thing to help remind?
Hopeful that a cure I’ll find to
Remedy this absent mind.



Shish kabob

Life is just a shish kabob,
Little this, little that.
Skewered, seasoned, marinated,
Grilled and eaten on the fly.

Finger food to tempt the tastes of
Every epicuric yen.
Flame-fired fuel on a stick
To please the palate and the eye.

Savoring the flavoring as
Drippings splatter on the coals.
When it’s offered up to you,
You take it without asking why.

Tiny tidbits.
Eat this… skip that.
Pass those on to someone else.
Compliment your gracious host
Before it’s time to say goodbye.



Wrangler

All you cowpokes gather round
The bangle, dangle, jangle sound
Of booted spurs that click the ground
As Wrangler saunters into town.

Pocket full of month-end cash,
Suited up and talking trash.
Lady-killer, unabashed,
Looming large with daring dash.

Does she see through his disguise?
The innocence behind those eyes
That beckons with hypnotic rise
To underscore the hidden prize.

Is our Wrangler more than play?
Will he own the ranch someday or
Is he simply molded clay?
Will he cling, or run away?



Momentum

Gathered in a silent warehouse,
Banking off of subtlety,
Building thrust on borrowed feet
To stand, to walk, to jog, to run.

Sprouting wings as if to fly on
Whiffs of light angelic air,
Climbing to the jet stream where
Her boundless energy can ride.

Now the flow cannot be quelled.
Now the air can only bend
Concentric circles one on one
To wrap around, around again.

Trapped inside this angry vortex,
Miles and miles from hearth and home,
Seeking merciful protection,
Waiting for the rage to end.

.

New novel available at www.lulu.com

iwritesomeMy latest publication is a novel. "Phaedra" is available to order at http//:www.lulu.com. Feel free to preview before you buy. Available in print or download format.

iwritesome New collection started

iwritesome
I have started a new collection of poems. The title will be "Word Prattle" Here is the first poem:
Word Prattle


Its only words,
But beware of their strength.
Words to make mountains
Come tumbling down.
Loud confrontations,
Bold conversation
Where blanket cessation
Of reason abounds.

Droning in monotone,
Boring the furniture.
Singing in baritone,
Thrills for the soul.
Spreading the news so
Exciting, inviting.
Broadcasting views to
The suffering folds.

Beaches awash in
The white sands of history
Seeking to separate
Sane from absurd.
Time prattles on
Without judgment, unruffled.
Destinies turn
On a single word.

new book of poems on Lulu.com

"Enter at Your Own Risk", my latest collection of opems, is available at www.lulu.com

Selections from "Passions"

PASSIONS

Rising, as mist from a white frozen lake,
As a scorching Sun sears it's soft supple flesh.
New Spring morning awakening senses,
Calling, beckoning, pleading its' case.
Crisp and clearing by mid day and yet
Lingering quietly, memory pacing,
Recalling the freshness, the dewdrops on daffodils
Dancing as daylight escapes from its' hold.

Fingers tap softly on silky smooth shoulders,
Patiently waiting for hopeful reaction.
Pictures encapsuled in memory mindful of
Each minute detail I find in your face;
Tasking this creature who dwells here inside of me.
Dare to confront what I know cannot be.
Lord, give me strength to be perfect in battle.
Passions run hot until flesh is stone cold.


GRAND OBSESSION

North star... Polaris... Guiding light;
Rudder and wheel... The wind in my sail;
Holding my ship on a steady course...
Never to deviate...
Never failing to be there
Beside me when others forsake;
Always giving much more than you take
In this dream we term life;
This magnificent dream,
Gliding serene
Leaving joy in it's wake.
Is there any wonder I need you so?
Is it any surprise that we've lasted this long?
Is it grand obsession which holds us together,
Or simply the comfort in love grown strong.


SUFFER THE CHILDREN

I stood in line at the grocery counter
Where mother and child were just ahead.
This small supple mass of flesh and lung
Which moments before was announcing his ire
For the whole world to notice that
Something was wrong,
Some great injustice was being done
To his discontent, so he pierced the air
With nerve wrenching wails,
Which his mother apparently could not hear,
Or did she ignore?
Could she be the only one in the store who...
Of course not. How silly.
She's just on to his game.
Patience has conquered, at least for the moment.

And now he sits... Suddenly shy...
Tilting his brow... Avoiding my eye.
What is he thinking? If thought is a pattern.
What is he learning from this days event?

I wink as his view shyly shifts my direction.
He lowers his eyelids, confused for a while.
He glances at mother, and then back to me...
One more wink, and I capture a smile.


OLDER AND WISER

Growing older is not so difficult...
Not so different from youthful exuberance.
Steps may be slower...
Stairs may be higher...
Nights may be shorter...
Muscles may ache where
You never knew you had muscles before.
Physical tasks may be more of a chore.

But one learns to compensate,
Brain over brawn.
Pain is a teacher you both
Love and hate,
And patience becomes a constant companion
Who compensates freely
Those willing to wait.

Like the willow who bends,
Growing tall by the waters,
Biding the years, taking all in it's stride;
Older and wiser,
Weathering winter,
Seeking tomorrow
With arms open wide.


FOR WHAT WILL YOU FIGHT?

This is my home; this small strip of Earth.
This is my property stretching from here
Down that pathway to there round and back
To this spot. It may not seem much, but
It's all that I've got of this planet
Where humans divide territory
And mark it with deeds filed away
In some vault.

This is my family. These are my friends.
These are the people held dear in my heart.
These are the lessons I've learned from
Acquaintances, shared expectations of
Being a part of the larger equation
Whose total is strong.
They are my people. Here I belong.

This is my truth; my heart-felt belief,
Drawn from experience of all I have known.
Truth ever-changing, maturing with time,
Always growing, but never full grown.
Dare we conflict with the truth of another
Who's pathway is just as sure
His truth is right?
Are we combatant?
Do we retreat?
Be honest. For what will you fight?



WORK ETHICS

Many a lesson I learned from my father...
Like when to be strong;
When it's proper to cry
For a man grown mature in his
Nurturing ways;
How to put dignity into our days
Which are labeled and numbered
Til fate plays it's hand;
How to put back what we
Take from the land.
But by far the greatest lesson of all,
Taught by my father's example to me,
Was that work is a privilege,
Not a labor,
Nothing in life is for free.
Those who are hired by those willing to pay
Have a contract, a promise to fill,
And no one should need to look over your shoulder
To make sure you're paying the bill.


HONESTLY

Honestly!
You'd think they'd never seen
A naked picture before.
Honestly!
Such prudish inhibitions
Make me wonder if they live
On this planet drenched in worldliness,
Seething in it's seamy side,
Mass proliferation of the airways
And the media.

How could it be missed?
How could they be so blind?
How can they fail to deal with
The blitz of heart and mind?
Honestly!

Selections from "Love Endures"

Love Endures

And all the world shall slip away,
And time shall echo eons
Past the secular vernacular
To speed it to it’s higher ground. As
Level passes on to level,
Sweeping off old memories and
Stepping into worlds anew
Stripped of every sight and sound.

Nothing ever lasts forever.
Nothing ever really ends, just
Changes to a new dimension
Grounded in another realm.
The crossing over pathway shrouded
In a cloak of dusty gray
To break the dawning of tomorrow
Rising to control the helm.

Deep within the fight continues
Without treaty… without cures.
Only one thing offers solace
When it’s over…
Love endures.


The Eyes of a Lover

Eyes can say so much about
The character of their possessor.
Every bare emotion, like a mirror,
Is reflected there in some way,
Be it great or small.
There is no hiding from the glare
Of truth behind the subtle hue
Of color in the great confessor.

The eyes of a leader oft reflect
The passions of their followers,
Giving birth to dreams of change,
Kindling the fires of hope.

The eyes of a liar shift in their
Chameleon impersonation,
Holding in futility the
Frayed ends of their dangling rope.

The eyes of a killer can sear the landscape
Scorching all who cross their path,
Practiced in deceptive cunning,
Bursting into sudden wrath.

But the eyes of a lover hold no secrets,
Show no quarter or deceit.
Open to a world of giving,
Laying Heaven at your feet.


Finding the One

Barren waters fill the ocean
And the waves forget to roll
As tides, abandoning their schedule,
Cease to offer ebb and flow.

Every dewdrop sent from Heaven
Yields a taste of salty tears,
And darkness offers cover as they fall,
So no one has to know.

Hopeful hearts seek out their treasure
Nestled deep beneath the sands on
Far off islands waiting for the
Magic of discovery.

Gold-filled chests and diamond lined tiaras
Sparkle in the sun
And hearts fill with the knowing that
This is how it's meant to be.

Finding the one, the single treasure,
Seeking to go the extra mile,
Capturing gold at the end of the rainbow
Makes the journey all worthwhile.


Restless Seas

What mammoth creature down below
Has been disturbed and stirred to movement,
Making her waters, once calm and serene,
An angry mass of a restless sea?

God help us all if she breaches the surface.
Heaven forbid we should look on her face,
Her Medusa curse turning flesh into stone
In the micro-instant before we can flee.

Youthful exuberance might have survived it,
But that was ages and eons ago.
No longer the Captain or even the mate,
Merely a passenger caught in the fray.

Seeking safe harbor at journey's end,
Wanting no part of the battle ensuing,
Turning from harm and seeking a Navy,
I close my eyes and humbly pray.

God, give me strength to weather the battle.
See me before you in bended knees.
Help me to yield to your unbridled wisdom
As I ride the crest of your restless seas.


Angels Weep

The raven stalks a sleepless night
As silent darkness blankets all
The landscape of a troubled world
And destiny prepares to call.

Truth comes hard to those who wait
And wonder far beyond the day.
The silence catches unaware
And leaves a bitter bill to pay.

The only solace is a trusting
That the end brings yet a new
Beginning of a better making
Freshly born of morning dew.

Still the heart cries out in anguish,
Passions rising from the deep.
Prayers of longing and remembrance…
Lovers mourn as
Angels weep.



Starlight

The sun fades in a distant west as
Twilight caresses the evening sky
With its' gentle colors of passionate pink,
And tiny pinpoints of starlight ensue.

Time grows weary and all the concerns of
The daylight dim as the sun settles in
To the tree tops, resting but a moment,
Offering promises old and new.

…And you fill my evening well into the night,
Holding my hand as the starlight appears
To capture the Heavens, filling the darkness
With all its' abundance of elegant grace.

Treasures abound in the evident spectacle
Born in amazement, meant to be shared.
But diamonds and gold can never compare to
The wonder I find in your sweet loving face.

No matter how long I may walk on these beaches,
No matter how wondrous the luminous prize,
Nothing on Earth or on this side of Heaven can
Outshine the starlight in my lover's eyes.


Butterfly

Flittering, fluttering all about
The garden on your silent wings,
Gathering the nectar of each
Flower's welcome bloom.
Pacing never, racing ever,
Bothering no single soul,
You dance your dance and
Weave a spell upon your magic loom.

And I become a witness as
You search the world in your brief time.
I watch as you emerge
Breaking free from your cocoon
In burst of brilliant colors which
Could rival Pharaoh's treasures,
And then disappear to darkness
All too soon.
Time escaping, passing by,
Watching with your painted eye,
Stopping not to question why.
Fly my little butterfly.