The World that is not a Dream

Cello. Piano. Adagio.
Words fallen from the sky.
Why do they not want to sing?
What does their silence mean?

Emotion. Illusion. Delusion.
How to be sure?
Some rhymes are impure!
My questions make no sense!

Now that you live in
the World that is not a dream
you can read everything unwritten
and make music out of nothing.

It is such a nice way
to answer me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Selfless Trees / Etoiles silencieuses

I came into the world
not to tell the truth
but little things similar

still water reflections
white lies
lazy butterflies
slow days of May
faithful hawthorn
blue dreams underway
and the sweet voice of flowers
in the evening light

and all those silent stars
far above
the selfless trees.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Ce n’est pas pour dire la vérité
que je suis venu au monde
mais ce qui s’en rapproche

reflets sur l’eau
mensonges pieux
papillons paresseux
aubépine fidèle
lentes journées de mai
rêves bleus tout juste commencés
et la douce voix des fleurs
dans la lumière du soir

et par delà les cimes
des arbres magnanimes
toutes ces étoiles silencieuses.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

 

~

En Vérité (reflets) © 2018 – F.G.M.

Enough Light

if our eyes had filled up
with shadow and sorrow

if the Stars had faded away
if the Sun did not rise

there would always be
enough Light

enough Light in our Hearts
to illuminate the world

enough light to see
the shining face of Love

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Something blue

Sometimes you walk on water,
sometimes you sink like a stone:

there are many farewells
on the way to Summer.

Because the sun did not show up
I gave up on my blue dreams

and sold my soul to the Devil.
But bluebells bought it back:

some flowers are angels in disguise
some forests look like Paradise!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Something blue © 2018 – F.G.M.

Droplets of Time

They were not mere raindrops
sliding down my father’s car windows.
They were colliding and merging worlds.
A game of creation and annihilation.

Droplets of Time, tears of the Soul.
My father’s car is long gone
but I still wonder at the power
of a child’s imagination.

And when it starts raining
there are neither where nor why.
The Silence in my heart helps me
to clarify some of Life’s great mysteries.

© Frédéric Georges Martin