Confession

I build crystal cathedrals
then I take a special delight
in destroying all of them.

I like when sharp shards
hurt my child heart.
I love when it aches and bleeds.

Yes, I have to concede
I’m a bit of a masochist.
Besides, Someone told me

you are your own worst enemy.
But what wouldn’t I do to grasp
the beauty of suicide poetry?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: the Death of Ophelia
(Odilon Redon, 1905)

Heart Penny

in the city of lost Angels
there’s a little shop of light

it’s open all night
it’s a joyful mess

the Shopkeeper is
the soul of kindness

the Moon costs two smiles
and all the stars are free

life lessons have no price
but Time and Love are so cheap

and you can buy Eternity
for only one Heart Penny

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Snowflakes in Sunlight / Danse mystique

Was it Winter’s swan song
or a strange harbinger of Spring?
The day before yesterday I saw
snowflakes in sunlight

softly falling from the Sky.
A waltz of stellar crystals
and gleeful particles.
Silent rain of divine Light.

And I danced with you,
and with Her
on the border that unites
Winter and Spring,

timeless place
where Hope and Love
show us their wonderful
Face.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Etait-ce le chant du cygne de l’hiver
ou l’étrange présage du printemps ?
J’ai vu doucement tomber du ciel,
et du soleil, des flocons de neige.

Une valse de cristaux et d’étoiles
de particules joyeuses,
pluie de lumière, avant hier,
silencieuse et divine.

Et j’ai dansé avec toi, avec Elle,
sur la frontière qui ne sépare pas
l’Hiver du Printemps,

espace hors du temps
où l’Espérance et l’Amour dévoilent
leur merveilleux visage.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Flocons de neige dans l’Infini © 2018 – F.G.M.

Answer to Gauguin

rain makers, old dreamers
bird watchers needing to know

we come from an island
not far beyond the sea

we are shades of blue and gold
brush strokes by Gauguin

and we are going to
the land of the Living

a world in a grain of sand
so very close at hand

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?Right part of the painting (Paul Gauguin, 1897-1898)