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

This is not a Dream

This is not a dream.

We often go through
the small iron door,

we often walk around
the garden of treasures.

What we say, you hear.
What you see, we see.

The oak leaves rustling in the wind
and the gleam of the Moon

and the blackberry bush,
the birds and the violets.

Everything’s so nice
in the silent twilight.

For Children of the Night
always remember the Truth,

this is not a dream.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Un rêve d’enfant / A Child’s Dream

Je fais souvent ce rêve,
vous venez à la maison,
vous passez le portillon,

nous allons au jardin.
Je vous montre le chêne,
les violettes, les mûres.

Je pourrais presque vous entendre.
Que la lumière est belle
et que tout est joli !

Mais dans la pénombre
tout n’est que silence.
Ce n’était qu’un rêve,

un rêve d’enfant.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

I often have a dream that
you’re coming by the house,
you go through the door,

we walk around the garden.
I show you the oak tree, the violets
and the blackberry bush.

I could almost hear your voice.
“What a wonderful light!
Everything’s so nice!”

But everything’s so silent
 in the twilight.
It was just a dream,

a child’s dream.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Houses in Auvers (Vincent Van Gogh, 1890)

Blue Summer Morning

like twin poppies under the sky
I forget everything
because it’s just a glorious
blue summer morning

stories and worries
yesterdays, tomorrows
vain joy, true grief
dead-ends or seashores

the empire of Lights
the depths of darkness
greetings as farewells
and the fountain of youth

the silence of God
the Devil’s masquerade
their mysterious charade
dreams and even the Dreamer

like twin poppies under the Sky
I forget everything
because it’s just a glorious
blue summer morning

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Twin Poppies under the Sky – © 2017– F.G.M.

Out of the Maze

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? (Khalil Gibran, “The Prophet”)

Wild flowers bloom
then fade.
Words flow in silence.
Tears go by.

Will we look
at the gates of Heaven
the same way
you were gazing at the sky?

How can we be sure
that Time and Love
work together
to lead us safely

out of the Maze?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

At the Edge of the Pond

The birds have flown,
the tree has grown,
and nobody sits on the bench
but a sad and lonely child.

Did the gray heron
stop fishing in the pond?
Do water-lilies bloom
forever and beyond?

Time plays the piano
and brings me solace.
Miracles or Memories.
Stillness and Beauty.

Dreams
at the edge of Eternity.
Oh! You look so pretty
when you come and sit by me!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Not Too Late

Instead of watching tv
I could have gone to your garden.
There you had grown sunflowers
and planted a walnut tree.

But I did not care at all
and didn’t try to cross the wall.
The walnut tree was cut down,
sunflowers turned all to dust,

and now, you’re so far away.
Unsaid words weighs heavy
on my heart. Yet I still dare
to hope it’s not too late.

Daddy! What a wonderful garden!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: the Gardener
Georges Seurat (1884-83)