A Poetic Response

Oh  how I love

When that stranger walks in

He calls out to me

Asks me to begin
Wants me to sing a song

About my disease

Wants me to beg, lie down

To get on my knees
Wants to laugh at my shame

embellish my guilt

Wants to drag me down

Wants to to tear down what i built

Yet I don’t mind to sing
In fact like to dance

That stranger inside

He stands little chance
In shadows he lurks

In shadows he resides

When brought into light

He loses his disguise
Sure I have done this

And i have done that

I went way further down

Than an alley cat
That stranger and me

Have been round the block

Many days and nights

Without noticing the clock

Today I see him there

He is always nearby

He is quite sad you know

In fact makes me cry

Trying to bury his pain

To not bring it to light

Does not live in the day

Inhabits the night

Today i don’t join him

Left that life behind

I keep him nearby

To only remind

Now i play with the poets

Creates rhymes from the dust

God’s voice comes right through me

As always he must

God’s voice comes right through us

Yes you and yes me

God’s voice comes right through us

For all the world to see

I am grateful today

For an ink slinger’s tune

Now I shall retire

And go stare at the moon

God bless Bill Walston
(written as a poetic response to a recovery poem)

(Originally posted on my other blog – about addiction and recovery and yet I am wanting to collapse the two)

Write from the Night

Write from the dark 

write from the night 

Write till the darkness

washes away into light 
Write till the tears

stream down your face

Write till your awareness 

falls into place
Write till your empty

From darkness to dawn

Write barefoot lying flat 

on the lawn
Write in the forest among the 

birds and the bees

Write with your back 

 up against a tree
Write with pencil or pen 

or your thumbs

Write till everything

in you is just numb
Write till you see 

the truth that God sees

That he is in you 

and you are in me

(I am so grateful when a poem shows up and trucks on through)

Which tree do you see?

It is an illusion you see, on the outside it merely looks like a tree. 

All covered in knots, bark and leaves
The beauty reveals only to those 

who understand love from deep in their toes

Who see that love reaches, stretches and grows

To heights not yet seen from the ground down below
That love spreads out over rocks and the dirt

Entangling itself for all that it’s worth
Yes to the daft, they see only a tree
To the lover in you, you see you, you see me.
(Gordon Martin)

A Poetry Practice

10 minutes is all it takes

A little less a little more

To spill your guts

Explore the universe

Are you willing to explore?
10 minutes to start your day

To play in wonder or scream

To sit and ponder

Dance and sing 

To elaborate on that dream

10 minutes is all it takes

A little less a little more

I dream a dream of poppycocks

And go dancing out the door.

An Angel Amongst Us

(A poem written to honor the Life of Gladys Long, a friend of my family for almost 70 years)
An Angel Amongst Us
Born on Christmas Day,

 there is no doubt 
That an angel she was on a long term leave from heaven
Her love was felt by 

all those she touched 
A lady and gentle soul through and through
Giving a smile and a thank you to everything we did 
To every time we included her in our lives
Always giving a beautiful smile, compliment and hug
She was a teacher too, showing us how to be brave in the face of challenges
Showing us how to be strong when we may felt weak 
Reminding us what courage really looked like
For my children, she was a hero, who taught them through her actions more than her words 
To Gladys, we all were her family and she wanted to be there for all the important things in our lives
A mother to all the children of her life, all of us hers, although none of us were
What a gift, what a special soul.
And her husband Herb, a man standing by her side for 68 wonderful years
She was as gracious to him as she was to us all. 
While we may be sad for our loss, we really must feel blessed for how long God allowed Gladys to stay
To teach us of love, of family, of grace each and every day
To share her love of life, her love of everything we held dear
Gladys we love you now 

and will every passing year.
Gordon Martin July 15, 2016




Wonder aloud between two perhaps more. Wonder aloud be silent no more. 
Wonder what if, what more, who for. Wonder without keeping the score.
Wonder for nothing for you for me. Wonder how far how deep you can see.
Wonder  in rap, in beat, word and song. Wonder knowing we all belong.
Wonder keep wondering from now and now again. Wonder in one word, one hundred or just ten.
Wonder today for all those to see. For wonder gives life to you and to me.

Mardi Gras en Force

Poetry is more than words

It is song


and beat

a movement

of dance

of jigs

spins and reels

old and new

coming together

rhyme and meter

of voice 

a passion so deep

in language not understood

but felt

breath funnelled 

through instruments

evoking sounds

through hands and feet

Rock n Roll moves 


through ears to heart

hips mardi gras en force

from them to us

and in between 

a party begins

Making a Poetry Video Collage



I spent the morning

wrapped in words Warm


In layers

Buried in feathers

Of birds

That once flew



Climbing high

Into the sky


On the winds
With the window


The world




And sunny

And from there

I created

Mixed the ingredients

a stone milled


30 sec of Wild Compassion

And 14 sec of Somewhere in America

Listening I was moved

Also to write

Not just that which inspired

But of the pain I have been feeling

Of late 

Freedom emerged

From my ears

Through my heart

And out onto the page

I mix in George Elliott Clarke and Shane Koycan 

Poets from Canada bringing 

Sweetness and crunch to this 


The recipe is not yet


The bread not yet in the oven

I am enjoying mixing the 

Words and clips

Enjoying the aroma emerging

Reminding me of days gone by

When my step-mom used to make her bread in Apple Juice cans

Round and ribbed they would emerge

Yet still delicious

With peanut butter and jam

By Sunday Eve

It will be complete

A masterpiece

Who knows

But good enough to eat.