Poetry for the Rest of Us

By Dennis S. Martin

This is a two volume set of poetry that is easy to read, entertaining and has something to say. Simple rhythmic verse that poses questions (Posers to Ponder) and offers personal glimpses (Poetic Glimpses From a Window)of the world around us. Something for everyone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329001565

Book preview

Poetry for the Rest of Us

Poetry for the REST OF US

A double collection

By

Dennis S Martin

E-Book ISBN: 978-1-329-00156-5

Print Version ISBN: 978-1-4116-2705-5

© Copyright 2005, Dennis S Martin

All rights reserved

Part 1: Posers to Ponder Where Miracles Wander

Questions, questions and more questions. Do the answers have to be so complex? Maybe the simple explanations are the most meaningful. Let’s talk about it.

Posers to Ponder

Questions come silently creeping to mind,

Queries come begging refined resolution,

Posers seek answers to life's little problems,

Processing logically to a conclusion.

But storm troopers break down the door of confusion,

Blitzkrieg, Gestapo, the secret police

Collide in a mind filled with thundering hooves

Of a stampede offering no inner peace.

Where do they come from?

What is their aim?

How do we handle the tirade, the flood?

Questions on queries on posers and more

Taking our breath away,

Drinking our blood.

We can't control our inquisitive nature.

Like curious cats, we simply must know.

No other creature on this big blue marble

Seeks out his future from eons ago.

Constantly seeking... Endlessly searching...

Longingly looking ahead and behind...

Pondering posers... Thrashing through logic...

Hoping beyond hope to find peace of mind.

We are but children, lost and abandoned

Making our way through an ocean of thought.

Sailing on seas froth with whitecaps of questions,

Searching for calm once the battle is fought.

Amusing the Muse

Think of the songs on the airwaves today,

The street corner lyrics, the music they play.

Do you think that the muse would be slightly amused

Or highly insulted?  Just what would she say?

The things we now think of as oldies were once

Just as wicked and frantic and wild in their way.

But now they're nostalgic, recalling a memory,

A moment, a scene from a happier day.

Let's not be dramatic, not too critical,

Not bitter to act or express to accuse.

Our music once spent its' due time on the treadmill

Growing up slowly amusing the muse.

Nothing Lasts Forever

Nothing is forever except the earth and sky.

No one is eternal in this life game masquerade.

Players on a stage to quote the bard of days gone by

Waiting for a sunny sky to rain on our parade.

Life's a simple matter when it's meant to be enjoyed.

Optimism dwells in hearts of single-minded men.

It's only complicated when endeavor is employed

To try and circumvent its' fated end.

There's nothing wrong with hoping for a better deal tomorrow

With planning for the future as we go about our play.

The future will be there forever in the earth and sky

But we are here...

This time... This place... Today.

Life's Little Wonders

The songbird at dawn fills the fresh morning air

With the nectar of music. He pridefully croons.

Rejecting submission, repeating with fervor,

It makes a soul wonder who taught him his tune.

He sings to the sun as it climbs the horizon

Sings to the moon as it floats through the clouds

Sings to the heavens as stars twinkle brightly

Sings for his lady alone in a crowd.

Life's little wonders so often forgotten

Or taken for granted... In sight yet unseen.

The scent of wild flowers, the burst of their colors

From pink to magenta and twelve shades of green.

Life is filled with wonders so subtle

That most pass us by as we hurry along.

It's only by stopping and waiting and listening

The songbird can lend us the joy of his song.

Who Decides?

Decisions... Don't you hate them?

Choose me!  Choose me!  No!  Me!

Competition runs amuck

Destroying subtlety.

Varied views with different hues of color,

Shades of gray.

Fine distinctions shattered truth

Mutated molds of clay.

Who's the liar?

Who can tell?

What difference does it make?

Pay your money...take your chances...

Pay for your mistakes.

Figuring the way to go...

The many or the few.

Choices come in different sizes.

Who decides?

You do.

Where Do Worms Sleep In Winter?

I wondered once while digging

In the frozen earth of winter

What is the fate of the lowly worm

When the ground is chilled stone cold?

Does it burrow deep?

Does it hibernate?

Does it sprout wings and fly south

Or does it put its wanderings on temporary hold?

Perhaps it's just a silly question

From a simple mind.