palms in the wind
songs from the sea
birds will not die
neither will we

mermaids in the sky
have told a lie
but we have walked
on water

faith
or madness
I choose
to believe them

© Frédéric Georges Martin

In a small white village
on a lovely sunny morning
I met a funny old lady.

She talked about her life
and we laughed a lot.
How beautiful Taormina was!

But everything ends.
“I have a malignant tumor.”
she said with a smile.

In a small white village
I met a friend of the Sun
and my heart is heavy,

so very heavy.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration: Blossoming Almonds in Taormina (Tivadar Kosztka Csontvary, 1902)

(For Alexandra)

Fire under the ashes.
The wind blows.
The sea roars.

I love an Island.
Maybe I should say
an Island loves me.

Silence speaks louder,
my heart beats faster,
my soul flies higher.

I burn for an Island.
Maybe I should say
an Island burns me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Rocky slopes glow red,
black sand and lava catch the Light,
the clock holds it magnetic breath
and the Sun sheds copper tears.

When the Night falls,
Will we go blind?
Midnight lovers don’t mind.
Midnight lovers feel no fear.

Azul oscuro.
Silence cannot hurt.
Azul oscuro.
Darkness looks so clear!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Azul Oscuro © 2019– F.G.M.

How hard it must be
to be an angel.

Nathaniel,
a flower has fallen.

Nathaniel,
how heartbreaking the world is.

Nathaniel,
inspire me a prayer.

How hard it is
not to be an angel.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Fallen Flower © 2019– F.G.M.