Forget me not my love
on those cold lonely nights
when quiet is our home
empty are your arms.
Forget me not
when you awaken
with suns morning light
shining upon an empty bed
where normally I lay upon
Forget me not my dear
when winter's breath
has touched the once
warm country side
where hand in hand
we strolled along
bayous slowly flowing
where moss crowned oaks
line our paths.
Forget me not my darling
for never far am I
no matter the miles
or days apart
I'm always in your heart.
Forget me not my dear
you'er always in my thoughts
remembering how I love you
how I long for your embrace.
Forget me not oh love of mine
for soon our time will be.
Where once again we unite
to bathe in love evermore.

Quiet is the evening
as darkness envelops
a once, bright sunlit day.
Tranquil, serene, emotions
slowly, tenderly, encompass
his inner being, preparing
to ease the burden
find peace, from
his hectic, stressful day.
He feels solitude and loneliness
start to creep into his thoughts.
Solitary more likely
the sense he feels.
Realizing he is alone,
no one to share the relaxation,
peacefulness, he has now found.
Soft, relaxing music
of gentle strings,
performed with the softness
of a snowflake floating
from the heavens.
He has reached his mood
no more worries, stress,
nothing, but pure peace.
For restful his mind, his spirit,
for sleep he’s finally found.

I stand still, quiet, as I
allow the rain to envelop me.
barefoot, I begin to sense
mud and water squish between
my naked toes,
my feet become an earthly color
As they are taken over by
this soft wet earth.
I’m taken back to
memories of childhood days,
where my young feet, covered
in mud after a day of playing
mom sending out her warning
we had better not track
mud on her freshly mopped floors.
But I have grown, matured
since then, no longer
am I allowed to have such fun.
I must act like the adult I am.
I must worry about adult things.
The bills, the work around the house
that needs to be done.
There is no fun allowed
when you become “grown up”
But no matter, here I stand
in this rain, in this mud
like in the days of my youth
that has long since passed,
or so I thought.
For today I will stand and run
and squish in the mud
like the child I feel I am still.
Of course tomorrow says
there is a new doorknob
that needs to be put
on the bathroom door.

Twilight envelops my being
As I gaze upon this banquet.
A banquet to tempt
the strongest of wills.
Philosophers think about it
poets pen poetic verses.
A canvas of impeccable beauty
to satisfy the most
finicky of palates
Therapy for the mind,
like a sanctuary of soft
gentle music to
replenish the spirit,
calm, soothe the soul.
Humbled by all this,
I feel blessed to have
been awarded this
loving garden to enjoy.
I am humbled by
this awesome
majestic kingdom.
Mountain ranges loom large
above the horizon
some with tops of white
snow capped crowns.
Moonlight now replaces
the reddish sunset.
I rise from where
I have knelt in homage.
For I have seen the
beauty of heavens gate.
this blessing I
shall never forsake.

Today marks a milestone
for me, tho no trumpets
sounded or crowds cheered
no banners to announce
some heroic action I
have done for mankind,
some life saving event
for someone I’ve never met.
But a milestone nonetheless
in that this very day,
I lived.
This day my eyes encountered
the sunlight brightly shinning
thru the oak trees,
bathed in golden caresses
back lit, as stars from heaven.
This day I breathed
God’s life giving air
which my body so desires.
This day, which I lived,
brought nothing special
to the world around me,
other than I was present
to see many wonders.
Wonders such as a rose
bathing our senses with
sweet fragrances.
A butterfly dancing from
blossom to blossom,
searching for tasty nectar.
Many special gifts
I received this day.
This day.
A blessed day.

God whispers his small miracles
which grace my life’s paths
beckoning that I notice
their mere presence.
The miracle of a small wildflower
living beneath my footprints,
its smallness adds a larger beauty
to the mesmerizing canvas.
The colored songbird
which sings angelic suites,
as it perches high above,
allowing my soul to be enriched
with the beauty of it’s voice,
reminding me that nature
has a song all its own.
God’s graceful touch as
a soft breeze gently caresses my skin,
enveloping me like a loving hug
one I pray never ends.
For many whispers I come to know,
more I have yet to see.
For now I must journey on
for I feel so much still awaits.
I dare not waste a moment.
I must not fail to listen
to whispers.

through slumber presence I fall
into another world or dimension
places which may be unknown to me
faces I barely recall or notice.
I travel thru highways long and cold
at times upon some I recall.
destiny unknown or why
for I just sleep
my inner being accepts all
which falls ahead.
I control nothing in this
sometimes darken journey.
I'm only along for the ride
for soon I'm sure to awaken,
to what was familiar to me
before this journey to nowhere,
took over my rested slumber.

Marty
7/31/2013

What is this passion?
This life’s ambition
that is suppose to
lead me toward my purpose
of happiness and fulfillment.
bring meaning to satisfy
a calling.
We are born with a purpose,
a calling to accomplish
a gift God has inscribed
into our spirit,
which gives meaning
to our earthly existence.
I searched deep within ,
The deepest aspects
Of my soul.
I have searched outward
for a glimmer to guide
me toward this meaning
nothing definite has
have I seen.
Although I am aware
of what brings joy
to my day.
I hear voices which say
this is your passion,
go out and share
with the world.
For they need this
gift, this purpose.
For how am I to
fulfill this calling
so it brings a living
to my life?
That’s another question
along with the many already
lost in my journey.

Along the by the byways
of our endless thoughts
traveled far and away
infinite ideals, valued
only to those who
afford stand firm
in beliefs unsolved
but for self am I
cherished in  a
blanket laced
with possibilities
unblemished.

My thoughts have vacated me
gone somewhere I
have not been told.
Gone for no reason.
without a hint of goodbye.
Suddenly, for I feel alone
left in a world where
I belong not.
Searching for answers
as to my reason here.
I barely know the questions'
much less how to find answers.
I fear for the darkness
I think may prevail
in what my thoughts may become.
Where do I turn
for my time runs short.
No longer the youthful
razor I was once.
Years have taken me
and my thoughts away.

The poet attempts to
transform thoughts into
words of art,
enticing images, emotions
thru the minds of readers.
His canvas is paper
fine linen upon which
words come alive.
His palette is not of wood,
fashioned into artistic form,
but thoughts set in his mind
waiting to be released.
His paint is not of oil,
water, or pastel,
but simply a liquid
of blue or black,
sometimes of lead
if he chooses to use pencil.
A simple quill may
accompany his tools,
upon which paint flows thru.
A poets tools are few
and simple,
nothing fancy, for he is
a person of simplicity,
nothing of wealth is his
as a poet,
other than the masterpieces
he creates on his
canvas of words.

To what do I hold dear
this visit of April's kiss?
It seems much too early
for your arrival,
for winters cold breath
has yet to frost
my mornings much.
April, you have kissed
the many plants and trees
with warmth,
their leaves and blossoms
sprouting forth bringing
new to life to once ghostly
looking trees and
barren gardens.
But February frost beckons
for one more cameo
tho seemingly it has
stepped away for now.
Although I love the spring
which brings new life
colorful beauty to the land,
I have but one worry.
Spring brings to young men
the feelings of love,
but to me it brings us
one season closer,
to the sweltering
dog days of summer.

If ever the moment comes
when my steps have
become few and light
when my ability to walk
at all becomes a chore,
promise me you’ll remember
the many steps
we shared together,
the many places where
we strolled hand in hand
admiring God’s beauty
in the people and places
along the way.
Promise you will walk
those same places and
reflect on the many
memories we made,
sharing life and love together.
Promise you will stroll
just as we did
the same enthusiasm
the same magical wonder.
Promise me your steps
will not be heavy or burdened
with sadness or dismay.
For never were ours
when we strolled these paths.
Promise me no matter if
ever we stroll together again
you will never forget
our many walks
and never allow
your steps to be silenced.

Someday as I slowly walk along
I will see you in a memory
an instant along the way
when I gaze into the past
a long lost thought
of days gone by.
Perhaps a smell
of a dish I haven’t
eaten since that moment
of my youth.
I will see you sitting
at my favorite table
with smiling eyes,
happy heart.
Maybe later I will
again see you
admiring a symphonic
performance of soft
strings, a classic
concerto that
brings the spirit back in time.
Yes I will see you in many places
we have been.
Many memorable events
that makes it’s way every
once in a while to
our present memory.
Although I miss you so
know I will never forget
our time together.
So for now I will bid so long.
I will raise my tired hand
and wave slowly as I pass by.
My gait not as peppy
as what you remember.
My eyes not as sharp
so forgive me if I
miss you in other places.
My years have been many,
although in our time
these years seemed so far away.
But my dear friend
I will try not to shed a tear
as you fade into the distance.
Just know nothing would I change
from our time together,
unless I was given the chance
to go back and visit you again.
For my old body would enjoy
the feeling of youth.
My youth.
But for now, farewell
dear youthfulness.
Farewell till another memory
brings us back together again.

We travel thru many of
time's bizarre moments
not knowing how to
handle the trials.
More often than not
those moments are spent
feeling rejected, or alone.
We fear the outcomes
as hard as they seem.
Transparent to no one
left to endure the surprise
to our own self.
No attempt to made to
feel love or acceptance.
A hardened heart resides
where once compassion reigned.
If for only a moment despair
lived here.
Praying for a better world
hoping for a miracle.

I have witnessed your
art my Lord
gracing the evening sky.
That period between
day and night when
one ends, the other begins.
I have been blessed by
the amazing brilliance
of your loving hands,
upon which you graciously
placed upon your canvas
patiently waiting for
your children to see.
But from one moment
to the next,
more beautiful this
masterpiece becomes,
until the moment
when darkness falls
painting the landscape
into deep blackness,
closing your heavenly window.
Alas for this day
has been blessed a
million times over
by your gracious love.
Your love lies everywhere
upon your blossoms, your trees
and especially upon the
colors of the sky.

Carved from among ruins
rummaging deep within my memory
transfixed on determining what is
this I must somehow come to find.
A journey starting from unknown
places, destinations I only will
become to realize when I arrive.
Knowing soon will dreams
become reality.
All will be well
All will be as I prayed.

To walk the barren rocky lay,
across the tattered lands,
brought madness that which came to stay,
inside the broken sands.