How not to be a poet

I don’t write poems.
Primroses and the sky
do the hard work.

I don’t need a silver pen,
but I treasure words like Spring
and I listen to the shy wren.

Then I sit under the Tree
that grows from light to light
and the bird tells me

how not to describe
how not to be a poet
just how to sing in tune.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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Snowflakes in Sunlight / Danse mystique

Was it Winter’s swan song
or a strange harbinger of Spring?
The day before yesterday I saw
snowflakes in sunlight

softly falling from the Sky.
A waltz of stellar crystals
and gleeful particles.
Silent rain of divine Light.

And I danced with you,
and with Her
on the border that unites
Winter and Spring,

timeless place
where Hope and Love
show us their wonderful
Face.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Etait-ce le chant du cygne de l’hiver
ou l’étrange présage du printemps ?
J’ai vu doucement tomber du ciel,
et du soleil, des flocons de neige.

Une valse de cristaux et d’étoiles
de particules joyeuses,
pluie de lumière, avant hier,
silencieuse et divine.

Et j’ai dansé avec toi, avec Elle,
sur la frontière qui ne sépare pas
l’Hiver du Printemps,

espace hors du temps
où l’Espérance et l’Amour dévoilent
leur merveilleux visage.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Flocons de neige dans l’Infini © 2018 – F.G.M.

Last Dream (Winter’s Tale)

Most snowflakes
do not philosophize
nor do they worry
about falling to the ground.

But One of them
had a little boy’s soul
seeking to overcome
the fear of death.

One night shortly
before Christmas
he had one beautiful
last dream.

Snow had fallen.
Snow had melted.
Once upon a Spring morn
a snowdrop was born.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

さようなら

さようなら
the sun is rising,
my heart is beating,
I’m leaving, how exciting!

I will write on the wind
you will read the clouds
thus we’ll see the world
as red-crowned cranes

and hidden spirits do.
When it’s snowing flowers
dreams bloom
under the cherry trees

and Spring reveals everything.
I promise I’ll tell you!
NOW is the time for Sakura!
さようなら

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The Promise of Spring

Mars qui rit malgré les averses
prépare en secret le printemps.
(Théophile Gautier)

Daffodils in the rain
seem to bow to Fate,
but tomorrow the Sun
will raise them up.

The old cypress has offered
a shelter to the tiny wrens.
Strong trees laugh at storms,
and treasure fragile lives.

March is a man of his word:
Every cloud has a silver lining.
That’s the Promise of Spring
and that’s so very true!

© Frédéric Georges Martin