At the Edge of the Pond

The birds have flown,
the tree has grown,
and nobody sits on the bench
but a sad and lonely child.

Did the gray heron
stop fishing in the pond?
Do water-lilies bloom
forever and beyond?

Time plays the piano
and brings me solace.
Miracles or Memories.
Stillness and Beauty.

Dreams
at the edge of Eternity.
Oh! You look so pretty
when you come and sit by me!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

True

Because I’d lost hope
I cried myself to sleep,
but I saw stars shining
through my tears.

I felt Someone’s hand
on my shoulder.
I heard a voice
from Elsewhere.

Give all your dreams back
to the Child in you.
He will make each of them
come true.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The Princess

sketch-for-a-mermaid

She breathes
and sailors smile or worry,
She sings
and mermaids dream or cry.

She poses,
and painters do their best.
Then she disappears after
she sprinkled stardust in their eyes.

She sometimes wears
a wedding veil
but every man knows
she will never marry

for she is
the King’s mistress.
The Sea.
Princess of the seeking Souls.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Sketch For A Mermaid
(John William Waterhouse, 1892)

A true Poet

I’m not a Painter,
but I dream to paint Words
like gate and path
on the wall that separates us.

I’m not a Sculptor
but I would love to carve
a few more poems
from the soft clay of Silence.

Poor me!
I’m not a Musician,
but I’m still desperately trying
to make birds of Nowhere sing.

O God of many Names!
I wish I had time enough
to live and leave as
a true Poet!

© Frédéric Georges Martin