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

cimg0684

Plastered teddy bear, lifeless buddy,
you’re staring into space.
It’s like you were sitting patiently,
but what are you waiting for?

Sometimes Fate is unfair:
it leaves old friends all alone
and can suddenly wipe the smile off
a little boy’s face.

O sweet companion, forgotten friend,
your foam filled soul resembles mine!
Yesterday no one saw your tears,
but God knows that you were cold

when the sun went down over the sea
and the first stars in the darkening sky
silently began to align,
then died of grief!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

ours en peluche oublié sur un banc de pierre © 2015 – F.G.M.

Entendre du merveilleux Mystère
l’écho bleu, musical, infini.

Deviner dans nos cœurs, îles dans l’Océan,
l’immensité du Ciel au dessus du ciel.

Apercevoir les étoiles sans nombre
et quand elle brillent dans la Nuit, Dieu.

Et nous savoir héritiers de l’Amour,
plus que nous-mêmes, plus que lumière,

enfants aimés à qui fut donnée dès l’Aube du monde
l’éternité pour apprendre.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

gold-in-a-river

In the realm where Fall
neither begins nor ends
a needy poet found
gold in a river,
amazing treasure
elves hadn’t even bothered to hide.

Singing streams still remember
the wordless prayer
he thankfully wrote on the wind
whispering through the trees,
and for all I know
in the forest of many wonders

he struck it rich.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Forêt de Rambouillet (France) © 2015 – F.G.M.

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

oil on canvas 50 x 50.5 cm

I love an Island where fragile flowers defy
both basalt and Death. An Island called Exile.
It is black and red. It belongs to the Sea.
It appeals to the stars, its rocks teach Eternity.

The die is cast, broken Motherland,
and soon it will be time to leave you.
But your language flows through my soul
like a river of fire,

and as long as I can breathe,
I will write on every wall
whether made from silence
or from ignorance,

the word you never should have forgotten:
Fraternité. 
France, forever in my heart,
may you rest in peace.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration : Ria Munk am Totenbett, Gustave Klimt (1912)