The last Hope

Taciturn poplars close ranks.
They do not fear November.

I try to fill in the blanks.
Will the dawn remember?

But the sky has cried enough,
flowers have fallen into a deep sleep.

Winter Soldiers know their stuff.
The last Hope is a secret to keep.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Peupliers au petit matin © 2017 – F.G.M.

Winter Landscape

winter-landscape

Almost an Off-White,
or a very subtle Gray,
revealed only when the mist vanishes
at the beginning of the day,

and the Silver of naked hills
kissed by pale winter lights,
and this rare shade of Blue
above the frozen fields,

and the forgotten Green of trees
still aware despite appearances.
– Colors of the Soul slowly emerging
from the bright darkness of the Night.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Winter landscape. Rime
Aleksey Savrasov (1870)

Ode to the Seasons

If I had only one year left to live
I would thank Spring
for bluebells woods and rainbows,
seen and unseen.

I would tell Summer
it means the world to me.
In Fall, I would plant a tree
under the silent stars.

Leaf on the wind,
I would ask Winter
to give me for Christmas
only one Night more,

and like a child
enthralled by the Lights
I would write in the snow
love letters with many forevers.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

December

december

He dips His brush
into the light of winter
and paints naked trees on water
and the world trembles in the wind:

the Painter loves December.
He is the Master of illusions
and children guided by emotions
ask themselves questions like

How do clouds float in the sky?
Why do we have to die?
But He holds their little lives
in the cold palm of His hand.

How could they understand?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Le Pinceau © 2016 – F.G.M.