The End / Terminé

Will ashes remember the Fire?
Will the Night hear from the Light?
“I” was a play on words
and so were the shadows of the world.

The stars are veiled, the poet has failed:
nothing will remain
but the dark whiteness of Silence.
THE END.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Les cendres se souviendront-elles du Feu
et la nuit, de la Lumière ?
“Je” était un jeu de mot,
de même que les ombres du monde.

Les étoiles sont voilées, le poète a échoué
et rien ne restera
que l’obscure blancheur du Silence.
TERMINÉ.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Illustration: White Line on Black (Jiro Yochihara, 1968)

Something blue

Sometimes you walk on water,
sometimes you sink like a stone:

there are many farewells
on the way to Summer.

Because the sun did not show up
I gave up on my blue dreams

and sold my soul to the Devil.
But bluebells bought it back:

some flowers are angels in disguise
some forests look like Paradise!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Something blue © 2018 – F.G.M.

March 19th

The wind has blown
over the hills.
Snow covers daffodils.
Tiny violets kiss the ice.

Today was
the last day of Winter.

Will anger and despair
melt away
like snow in the sun?
I hope so.

Tomorrow is
the first day of Spring.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

In a Place of Peace

In a place of peace
I buried Hope with my own hands
I looked for heather in bloom
but could not find any flowers I like.

So I made a cross from twigs and ivy,
and my soul stood there,
naked in the wind, under onyx stars,
till the break of Dawn.

My sweetest Dream has gone,
I will not live on!
The truth has been left untold
and the sunlight looks so cold!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: The Cemetery Entrance
(Caspar David Friedrich, 1825)

Starry Road

Blood-red mountains, purple clouds,
lava winds, pumice stones,
cliffs and screes, gecko thrones,
ochre lands, dust and gold,

and the path that leads to the Sea,
and the garden where fire flowers bloom,
and these swirls in the sands of time,
broken lines on the palm of my hand.

I give up on my dream of light.
I break the spell. I abandon Hope.
And I look for a place in the shade
to bury the bird found dead along

Starry Road.

© Frédéric Georges Martin