Metaphysical Nursery Rhyme / Mortelle Comptine

one, two, three
let’s climb
the Life Tree

four, five, six
poets know
many tips and tricks

seven, eight, nine
to forgive is human
to err is divine

ten, eleven, twelve
into Oneness
we all shall dissolve

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

un deux trois
je n’irai plus
au bois

quatre cinq six
le pic est altier
mon âme dévisse

sept huit neuf
le temps est compté
ceci n’est pas du bluff

dix onze douze
la vie est belle
 mais la mort est jalouse

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Last Words

I could send you a letter
to put bitterness into your heart,
but thorns and salt on the wound
might hurt me more than Winters did.

So now all the leaves
have fallen to the ground
I write on the dancing candle flame
last words that will go up in smoke.

Everything.
Midnight tears and lost Springs.
Heartaches and Love ungiven.
I forgive you everything.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Silk Paper Dreams

The Night tries to let us know.
How long will we remain deaf?

The Moon does not shine.
She simply faces the Sun.
Things do not happen.
They come and go.
Time does not flow.
It just pretends to pass.
Worlds do not exist.
They all are
silk paper dreams,
and so is Life
and so is Death.

But Love is Love, it is
the only Truth.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The Forgotten Poem

Have you seen Mnemosyne
in the garden of lost Springs?
I wish I could remember
the Forgotten Poem!

Was it about
a thousand-year-old tree
or the light within
the smallest fragment of time?

I guess it was written
by the breeze in a dream
with silent words of yours,

a sonnet engraved
in the nightingale’s heart,
all about Life and Love.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Wonderful Dream

There is an ocean between us
but the Moon has built
a bridge of light so as we can 
take a step towards one another.

And the stars move
in the silence of the night,
and love grows stronger
despite the distance.

These were the words
that echoed in my heart
after I saw you
in a wonderful dream.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Magnificent Winter

The Soul is a gold leaf
that dances and crumbles away
as it falls from a tree
on a grey November day.

The Soul is a snowflake
that shines in the white hugeness
under the cold Winter sun
of a magnificent Winter.

The Soul is a bird
that flies in the sky
and can reach for the stars
without waiting for the Night.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Cosmic Vertigo

Our star, the Sun.
One hundred billion stars
in the Milky way, our home galaxy.
One hundred billion galaxies
in the Universe,
and countless universes.

Cosmic Vertigo.
Cosmic harmony.
Cosmic necessity.
We are tiny grains of light
without which
Infinity is not infinite!

© Frédéric Georges Martin