Long Marten Poems

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

The Final Days:  Rosalia’s Death and Destruction
In the wake of such evil, debauchery and depravity what can be said now in the case of...

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Rosalia - The Evil Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia’s Date with Destiny and the Power of Light and Goodness
It is said that the Almighty Lord God works in very mysterious ways . . ....

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It was unusual and fateful to stop the car at the traffic light

Marten was such a nostalgic renegade and abided by the law

Hooting middle fingers and then what seemed like a hail storm

There had been...

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I zip swiftly along on my snow machine,
admist a white blanket with spots of green,
my trapline runs along this stretch,
Alaskan cold makes smoke of breath.

The snowpack has been good this year,
goes a little way to...

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-
Windows thrown open on a sunny June morning  
Refreshing and uplighting like a sun flower's first captured vision
Breathe deep and absorb the sallowed air
A woodpecker knocks and signals that summer has sprouted at last

The...

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My gran doesn’t ‘get’ this woke society
I told her that there’s a new sobriety
We went for a walk to see what we would see
And show her we all can be what we will be

Men can...

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I used to jump from aeroplanes
Naked
With nothing
But a parachute
A prayer
And a pair of Doc Marten boots

I've landed in some strange places
Once in a chair
Once or twice in the mud
A Woman once
I said will you?
She said...

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Her hair is multi~coloured,she wears big doc marten boots,her body is covered in pictures,where the tattoo gun ran loose..she hasn’t got any confidence,and very low self esteem,she paints a smile on her face,that turns into...

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         Embellished by the artist's
         softest marten hairbrush
         unfolds creatively on...

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The Goddess of the Moon looked down,
Upon the quiet garden.
She watched night creatures at play,
The owl, raccoon and marten,

Seeking as they do each night,
Their simple, humble fare,
And smiled as she watched them,
The breeze catching her...

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I face the final test of nature's truth.
The nights coming fast, I travel unheard.
The reverence I feel, was born in my youth,
tempered by sage, burnt offerings for birds.
Tormented by brambles whose thorns I collect
I come...

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The Goddess Of The Moon looked down,
Upon the quiet garden.
She watched night creatures at play,
The Owl, Raccoon and Marten,

Seeking as they do each night,
Their simple, humble fare,
And smiled as she watched them,
The breeze catching her...

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Stone floors whisper of
waterfalls poured through
algae, moss, fern
sedimentary, limestone
layer upon layer formed
from steaming warm springs.
 
This same granite counter
once graced by
a gazelle - or on its bedrock 
a jackal howled, a shy marten 
scurried away.  This...

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