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

The Blue Tree

Alice’s dream within a dream
and the far side of the Moon
and the big blue tree
and a Spark of Love.

A sprig of heather
has fallen from the sky.
What is it called
when you see in the dark?

Shadows in the Night
love the shade of stars.
How is it that they die
each time a child awakens?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration: The Blue Tree (Ernst Ludwig Kirchner)

Child’s Heart

Raindrops are God’s tears,
rainbows are Heaven’s doors
and I strongly believe
clouds are floating mountains.

I love to blow the dandelion flower.
I always do as I please
and often hurt my knees
and my heart.

But I don’t really mind.
I’m proud to tell everybody
I never grow up
and never will.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Cloud
(Arkhip Kuindzhi)

The Child in You

give Him a broken umbrella
He’d like to get wet in the rain

give Him seven-league boots
He dreams to walk among the stars

give Him the closed book of destiny
He can guess the story

give Him a bit of your time
and listen to your heartbeat

He loves to hear
the sound of a Life

alive

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Droplets of Time

They were not mere raindrops
sliding down my father’s car windows.
They were colliding and merging worlds.
A game of creation and annihilation.

Droplets of Time, tears of the Soul.
My father’s car is long gone
but I still wonder at the power
of a child’s imagination.

And when it starts raining
there are neither where nor why.
The Silence in my heart helps me
to clarify some of Life’s great mysteries.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

A Thank You Letter

School kids had great fun playing in the snow.
They ran, they hid, they laughed.
Now Time speaks slow.
I stand on its whitest side.

There’s ice on the sidewalk
and nothing to thank for.
Grownups are petty
and ungrateful.

I’m cold and disenchanted.
But I don’t want to be like them,
and so I write for Winter
a thank you letter.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Allée sous la neige, Paris © 2018 – F.G.M.

Cheerful Song

Song of thanks for the Sun,
greeting song for the Stars,
I would like my last poem
to become a cheerful song,

melody from the Moon,
blue lyrics by the Sky.

Children would find it fun!

A song that would sound
like the one I loved so much
when I was a little boy.
Dream of a naive dove,

a song of hope with such
a nice farewell at the end

children would not find it sad.

© Frédéric Georges Martin