Dead rose petals.
Razor-sharp rocks.
Tunnels under the city
and the far sunset.

The sky cries.
Some say it causes
Dreams, I suppose.

It’s a hard
and miserable world
and our hearts are
so vulnerable!

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Illustration: Two roses on a tablecloth (Edouard Manet, c1883)

Sad Song

Summer over here
has been hot and dry,
but tenants did not care.
In my neighbor’s garden
the young cherry tree

White flowers tinted with pink,
Flakes of light in the wind:
last Spring, it snowed in Heaven.
But wingless angels
cannot fly in the sky.
Spring will never be the same

and I feel like crying.

© 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.

La mort du Cœur / The Death of the Heart

Quand on porte en soi
ce qui est
plus lourd que la tristesse
plus sombre que la Nuit

et plus froid que la mort,
nul ne peut comprendre
comme il est difficile
de se forcer à sourire.

Un rayon de soleil
se fait couteau
qui remue dans la Plaie,
et le Cœur lentement



As you have to deal
with something
heavier than sadness
darker than the Night

and colder than death
nobody can understand
how hard it is
to force yourself to smile.

A single ray of sunlight
rubs salt into the Wound
and the Heart


© Frédéric Georges Martin


illustration: The Absinthe Drinker (Picasso, 1902)