The Night will save me

The black wolf let out a howl.
The beast lurks in my chest.
My house is made of straw:
how could I get some rest?

But I’m in love with the Sea,
and it’s bigger than Fate.
Eternity remains undefined,
my soul can ride the wind:

every time I watch the Stars
I get my breath back,
so when they’re about to pounce
the Night will save me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Nudité / Nakedness

Sans bien savoir pourquoi
au bord du canal
j’ai eu l’envie de m’asseoir.
Il n’était pas midi.

Un vent léger et l’eau jouaient
au jeu des songes évanouis,
quand une mouette aussi jolie qu’un ange
tout près de moi s’est approchée.

Mais l’oiseau s’est envolé,
la brise a gagné la partie,
laissant mon âme seule
et nue.

Une passante un peu pressée
s’est retournée
et je me demande encore
ce qu’elle a vu.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Without knowing why,
I felt like sitting
on the banks of the canal.
It was almost noon.

A light wind and the water were playing
the vanishing dreams game,
when a seagull as beautiful as an angel
came up to me.

But the bird flew away,
the breeze won the game
and left my soul alone
and naked.

A woman in a bit of a hurry
looked back at me
and I still wonder
what she saw.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Au bord de l’eau © 2017 – F.G.M.

Moonlight

Time is not flowing
like a river to the sea.
The river is a dream
and I am

a leaf in the stream.

You are not moving
through space.
Spaces move through you
for you are a bird

creating skies.

Really, we are
neither men nor women
neither bodies nor souls
but only the Light in the Word

Moonlight

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Sand Pipers and Moon (Ohara Koson,  1877-1945)

The last Hope

Taciturn poplars close ranks.
They do not fear November.

I try to fill in the blanks.
Will the dawn remember?

But the sky has cried enough,
flowers have fallen into a deep sleep.

Winter Soldiers know their stuff.
The last Hope is a secret to keep.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Peupliers au petit matin © 2017 – F.G.M.

Nowhere

At two past midnight
I had  two strange visitors.
Were they lost? Were they guides?
The Night only knows!

Unseen stars,
the light of a doubt,
soul scars,
the Maze and the Way Out:

I miss their secret teachings.
They’re nowhere to be found!
Nowhere, they said.
Nowhere, I only remember!

Nowhere.
Where all my dreams have gone.
Nowhere.
The place where Love was born!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Without Words

Never ask a Father
What is your name?
Never ask a Mother
Where are you from?

Write them a poem
about Spring and Peace:
Winters are harsh enough,
a war is never right.

Do not ask their Child
Who are you?
Give Kindness a Home
for God dwells in his heart

and speaks without words.
– I thank you.
– I love you.
– I bless you.

© Frédéric Georges Martin