Marty S Dalton

Marty S Dalton Aug 2013

Unless your bucket list is in pencil
Unless you’re content in front of your television
And your eyes see better than your heart does
If you heard on the radio that intellect killed hope
And read on the message board that we never needed hope in the first place
Unless you see unfiltered
And the light in your eyes is not a reflection of anywhere you’ve been
If there is nothing out there
And you’ve seen it before anyway
Take note:

When every metaphor ever built
Has fallen apart
Love will be a voice saying, here I am
Saying fight to take that deep breath one more time
Find me up ahead and run to me
The horizon isn’t as far away as you made it out to be
And looking over the edge will be the sweetest thing you have ever done

When every metaphor ever built
Has fallen apart
Love will still be saying: “get out there and find me” as directly as it can
Pleading with you to be a part of something bigger
Something lasting and dangerous
And hard to believe
The evidence is the beauty that you’ve seen
Miracles are not so different than dappled light through the canopy of trees
And that judging by the way it dances down the creek bed, water must hear music that no one else seems to believe
But there is a peace in that music
And a whisper in that dance
And if you listen long enough
You will feel some of your coarseness wash away
And that refinement is love
Look, even the stones lose their edge
Here’s to saying: “Look!”
To saying “You have to see this!”
To: “Come with me!”
“Let’s go!”
“Hurry!”
“Don’t miss this!”
“We’re explorers!”
“Let’s get out there!”
Adventure is only half going
The other half is who goes with you
The eighth wonder of the world is being together
And while all stories will end they can be shared forever
No paradise is complete alone
But love is an eternal home

When all metaphors ever built
Have fallen apart
Love will still be saying
Get out there
Find me

This poem was actually inspired by a photo submitted to my website as part of a little contest I held. Thanks to Jolene OBrien for the photo, which you can see at anthempoet.com

Marty S Dalton Aug 2013

Poetic Fame

Everyone loves a poem
But much more when its sung

If you want to be remembered
Better to hum than flick your tongue

Marty S Dalton Aug 2013

The Calendar

The days pass and
The dated squares
Accept their crosses and

It is not a relief to me
To finish another day
To check it off, as if

I were somehow
Impacting their passing—
Killing them with pink highlighter—

I am terrified of them
And I’m running away
From the wasted, twice-slashed
Past

Marty S Dalton Jun 2013

A Seed Grows Where It Falls

A seed grows
Where it falls

And at a
Ripe age

With leaves
It looks out

Sees other
Beds of earth

Where it might’ve
Taken root

But didn’t

It weeps autumn
Sighs through winter

And dreams of
Other soil again

I was thinking the other night over a cigarette about how I sometimes wish I would've ended up somewhere else. Dan said, "We all wanna be somewhere else than where we live, but that's not reality it's just point of view." And as I smoked, I looked at the old maple tree across the path, and put two and two together. And by pitying the tree, being stuck where it is, I found a metaphor to pity myself.

Marty S Dalton Jun 2013

Drinking and Music

Against the bar,
Wired up to electric blues

The somber not sober
Intoxication of music
Lands like a dragon, wings
Folding around the curve
Of a whiskey glass

Like lips in a drunk,
Drunk kiss getting
Some tongue between
A melody and liquor

This ugly habit—
Such a beautiful affair

It always enchants me when a good song and a good drink are symbiotic. Like they snuck out of the bar, made love in the alley, and then came back in blushing and trying to seem innocent. It's irresistible to watch them, and makes not drinking as hard as not listening to music.

Marty S Dalton May 2013

Pilots

Flying is easy
My dad used to say

Just, throw yourself at the ground
And miss

The math is:
Many times many

Equals:
Times we’ve missed the mark

Well, Father, by now,
We should all be pilots

Marty S Dalton May 2013

Paperclip

As I fidget with the paperclip
My eyes run away from perception

I am spacing out, outer space
Holds a universe of things

It has no lines or bends
Like a paperclip has

Or like a sharp knife has,
A universe is before my eyes

And the lines of a paperclip
In an office somewhere

Are whirling like razor comets
Cutting apart everything that

Might have been in front of me
Had I not run from dream-like worlds

That no one else can see