The fragrance of stars.

The softness of the sky.

The sound of a child’s gaze.

The taste of summer clouds.

Look at the Symphony,

trust Poetry

and train your sixth sense.

It is the only one that works

in the Other World.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

One swallow
will make a summer
but one sparrow
has died in winter.

How brave the bird was!
How poor poets are!
Never ask them to justify
their dreams of flying.

That is unfair.
How could they explain
words
fallen from the sky?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

In love with the Stars
and Words, inspired by
the silence of the Night
I dreamt I could write

Words in the Light.

But the sun rose
and on my white pages
only fleeting
traces of poetry

remain.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

original bilingual poem here

Triangles
can’t help talking in circles.

Circles
secretly dream of being squared.

Squares
never cross the line,

and Mrs Line
gets to the point

for Mr Point wonders
whether she’s

straight
or gay…

Oh my goodness!
What a queer geometry!

© Frédéric Georges Martin