Surrender begins


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Surrender begins like a fairy tale

In a distant land

Begins as a Dream unknown

scares us shitless

Surrender begins

a blanket with nails

We hang on … letting go no option

Hang on to the known

Even if that known is the darkest night

Even if that known has dragged us through the mud, left us naked in the street

Surrender begins with a whisper

A candle flickering

Dancing,  embracing the darkness that peers in so close

Surrender begins

With the mystery of an empty page

The words elusive the ink dry
Surrender begins

a map without borders

A voyage with no defined destination
Surrender begins

loneliness in a crowded room

fear, emptiness.
Surrender begins

With struggle

And pleads
I stand now on the other side of surrender

Knowing it’s grace and power

Looking out at those who cannot yet see

Surrender begins with love

With letting go

With saying yes to life

Surrender begins

With tears running down my cheek

With falling to my knees

Surrender begins

With holding hands

And hugs of understanding

Surrender begins

In this moment

In this place




Camouflage Not Needed


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I vanish from sight

Disappearing into the landscape

Trapped in a world of my own design

Caged without chains
Your words are not enough

Flood my brain

Stay silent
Awakened by the radio

Emerge from the wood

Your camauflage not needed

I pondered for days

For what

For whom

Stay silent

Let it die
Something changed yesterday

Listening to voices

Heard cause shared

Through willing ears
A hashtag births a movement

An evil geniuses design

Floods the streets, a $5 high

A great grandmothers praise

Raising esteem and belief
Emerging from darkness


Pulling open a curtain

Allowing light to fill the room
I spent the day engaged in play

600 words not more

One, a collection

Something to explore
Tupac’s words flood my ears

The words of a mother too

Contribute share
I don’t play the lottery

Because I will not win

But life is no lottery

Or perhaps it is

One won a long time ago
Staying silent

I choose to abandon

To celebrate my voice

In His glory

That’s just the way it is

Things’ll never be the same

On Course…Off Course

Off course…on course
I am back.
I would love to say I was off on some grand adventure of which I will now impart some wisdom

Yet the truth is that I went silent and did not want to share
So what changes now?
Tupac Shakur. As I watched him being honored posthumously in the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame, he said that the only thing that could stop him was death and even then his music would go on.
Aren’t we all so grateful for those who are willing to share: Prince, Leonard Cohen and Tupac amongst the many -for while gone now we can simply turn them on and be risen
Many many years ago, long before Chicken Soup for the Soul, I was introduced to the work of Jack Canfield in a series called Self Esteem and Peak Perfomance
Off course… on course was a story he told about our lives.
When moving toward our goals, going off course is going to happen, it is natural, for the path we are walking does not come with a map.
And yet it is not the going off course that matters, what matters is our response to it.
Are we stopped? I know at times that is my response
Do we cry and act like a victim? I have been there too

Do we get angry and rail against those who remind us that we are off course?

Or are we thoughtful.

Willing to stand back and realize. And make adjustments to our path.

Notice when you walk across the room that you still get to the other side even when you walk straight.
Have an awesome week exploring your reactions to On Course, Off Course

I have a dream 

Words written and shared in speech

in prose, on page or out loud

for me tonight they ring in song

Layered over lyrics

of rising beyond circumstance

of a teacher and her dream

Helping Young people to write their own stories

Reaching those who were forgotten
Left behind

And I know that everyday

There are those who do the same

Teaching and inspiring

Reaching, pulling up

Standing behind

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