call waiting…

copyright cwmartin 2012

no need
to listen
to the wind
my words
are written
in plain text
upon the page
you’ve decided
to wait
the holy spirit
to move you
did i
was left
staring out
this stained glass window

their words we hold…

along the shores
of tomorrow
one can find
in the sand
colorful shells
political promises
based upon
social judgements
remnants of a life
that has died
many years ago
held sacred
as a living being
the crypt
is empty
the body
of truth
as dust
the wind

common history…

an unmarked grave
to man’s frailty
and with
all the posturing
of mankind
this will be
his final posture
no one
will bring flowers
the tears
shed that day
will have dried
and been blown
into the sea
the dust
will be caught
upon the wind
and carried
into the fields
where new seeds
will be planted
for the occupants
of tomorrow’s

last dance…

listen to the music
of the sun dancers
chanting away
in the day
blowing fragrant kisses
at the sun
hoping to persuade it
to stay awhile longer
so they may dance
upon the wind
and tease
the last butterflies
that mingle with
the autumn leaves
wayward flyers
to some sunny retreat
winter’s cold touch
just one last dance
is their sweet request
one that even summer
cannot refuse
what shall we call this dance
ah yes
indian summer

when spirits touch…

A Duel Poem
 River Urke & Charles Martin

the call of a lone wolf
through the deepest corners
of the northern forest
a sound so primeval
from a forgotten soul
a wanderer of time
a time before men
walked the mossy path
alone, separated
and divided from all
now their relative calls
out their names
pleading for them
to return to the old ways
when men knew their brothers
and walked with their sisters
a time they lived side by side
no blades between or
tar soaked earth
only the warmth of love
for one another
a deep respect
for all who shared this place
and walked upon this path
a thousand miles far
the call of a lone wolf
resonates, passing through
earth, water, fire, and air
a girl lifts her ears
and speaks to the wind
brother I hear you
your voice is my voice
your sadness is mine
the lone wolf replies
young one, I carry
too heavy a burden
for your soft back
the girl smiles
and says to the old one
then let us do as before
and share the burden’s
of this world

Once again River Urke and I have entered into a duel poetry challenge and this is the resulting poem.  Duel Poetry a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.

be not silent to me…


the tank
heavily plated
with the steel of hate
crossed the border of reason
shredding the fields
of hope beneath
its tracks
moving like an old ship
burdened with an albatross
around its mast
to a minaret
pushing the walls
of the tower
into the ground
to bury the sounds of prayers
but come the dawn
they hear the call
the sound
caught upon the wind
could have so easily
been mistaken
for the sounds
of falling leaves
but slowly
it grew louder
a chant
a demand
that peace
be now
without delay
and then
the silence
of despair

son of the desert…

shoes off
he runs
through the sahara sands
a desert fox
free from the city’s cage
no longer dashing
between motor scooters
and cars
that wind their way through the medina
in this haven
he moves among the tall grass
ears tuned to the sounds of
and calves
each one moving toward
a common goal
a desert pool
hidden within these dunes
the giver of life
this is his playground
where he belongs
gently caressed by the sand
like his mother’s touch
when he is ill
as when she presses him to her breast
soothing away all fears
and when he returns to the city
the desert’s arms
with fingers of sand
reach for him
as if afraid
to let him go