The nights get colder and colder.
Without a sound
the red oak leaves
are falling on the ground.

Snails and ferns
before they sleep or die
can now watch
faint stars in the sky.

Yesterday
Summer was buried.
The wind blew,
a pale flower worried.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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Fluttering leaves.
Shades of orange and brown.
Autumnal holograms
illuminated from within.

Fall is a collage maker,
a painter of renown,
but it seems passers-by see
nothing.

I’m smiling, not really dreaming.
Time has been set free.
This is almost eternity,
and you are so close to me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Round and round the Garden
I’m sure years didn’t harden
your heart

and you were strong enough
to go
through the wind and the rain.

But I know words
will never relieve
your pain.

One step
two step
unsmiling little tin soldier,

open your small rusty hand
and sing, sing, sing
this is the best way to regain

the will to breathe
the will to live
the will to love!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

It is not a leather-bound book
standing proudly on a rosewood shelf.
It does not curse at misbelievers,
and cannot be used as an excuse.

Manuscript penned for every child of God,
calligraphy on silk paper,
it is the Bible of the Poor and consists of
only one word written in all languages.

Both the Blind and the Illiterate
can read those simple lines of light
for the Heart already knows
the Word revealed in the Bible of the Poor,

the only way that we can live,
the only way that we can grow,
the Bible of the Poor,
la Bible de l’Amour.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

In love with the Stars
and Words, inspired by
the silence of the Night
I dreamt I could write

Words in the Light.

But the sun rose
and on my white pages
only fleeting
traces of poetry

remain.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

original bilingual poem here

The whole garden resounds
with the silence of the rain.
Where have the blackbirds gone?

Tearful trees miss their song.
Crows look like thieves
and morning glory grieves.

They were birds in quest of Light.
They’ve been flying for a long time.
They’re dancing at the gates of Dawn.

But we have no reason to be sad.
To have dreams is to have wings:
now it’s our turn to sing.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Roses bloom, roses fade.
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People lie, angels cry.
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Sometimes it’s a dark Night, but God is always right.
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Dreams die, and so will I.
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Worlds disappear and so do words.
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Yet Love remains.
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© Frédéric Georges Martin