They smoke cigars.
They drive big cars.
They sell missiles
but rarely write epistles.

They build high walls.
Do they really have balls?
They’re proud to say I’m a rough guy!
Do you think they never cry?

Mr President will never tweet it
and I don’t care if a he has a fit:
great men
are women.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

I was a little girl’s friend,
a princess’ confidant.

She did not notice when I fell down.
I hear she cries in the distance!

The sky was the last thing I saw
before going to Puppet Paradise.

Alas, you cannot bring me back to life:
Childhood is the Kingdom of Truth.

I was a little girl’s friend
and died in the early Fall.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Pink toy on the sidewalk © 2019– F.G.M.

I enter
a white church
so silently.
Is this a dream? Maybe.

Mary seems pleased.
Light from above erases
the shoulder wound of Christ.
I rest.

Thus begins real Life.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

En silence j’entre
dans une église blanche.
Est-ce un rêve ? Peut-être.

Marie semble heureuse.
Doucement la lumière touche
l’épaule blessée du Christ.

Je dors.
Ainsi commence
la vraie Vie.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Eglise blanche, Lanzarote © 2019– F.G.M.

Alice’s dream within a dream
and the far side of the Moon
and the big blue tree
and a Spark of Love.

A sprig of heather
has fallen from the sky.
What is it called
when you see in the dark?

Shadows in the Night
love the shade of stars.
How is it that they die
each time a child awakens?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration: The Blue Tree (Ernst Ludwig Kirchner)