The World that is not a Dream

Cello. Piano. Adagio.
Words fallen from the sky.
Why do they not want to sing?
What does their silence mean?

Emotion. Illusion. Delusion.
How to be sure?
Some rhymes are impure!
My questions make no sense!

Now that you live in
the World that is not a dream
you can read everything unwritten
and make music out of nothing.

It is such a nice way
to answer me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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

When September begins

Life has given us a Lute
with twelve thin strings of Hope.

When September begins
Love is so very near,
and trees in golden light
make it easy to sing

for those who have a Dream
and those who do not have any.

September has just begun,
the Light is warm and clear,
and so I take my lute
and sing my little Love song

for those who have a Dream
and those who do not have any.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration:  September Afternoon (Joseph DeCamp, c1895)

A true Poet

I’m not a Painter,
but I dream to paint Words
like gate and path
on the wall that separates us.

I’m not a Sculptor
but I would love to carve
a few more poems
from the soft clay of Silence.

Poor me!
I’m not a Musician,
but I’m still desperately trying
to make birds of Nowhere sing.

O God of many Names!
I wish I had time enough
to live and leave as
a true Poet!

© Frédéric Georges Martin