POEMS BY T.W. MARTINDALE
KISS THE WIND
Perception is a wonderful thing
So unfortunate are we to be caught in a web of loneliness.
Struggling in this uncaring snare, we yearn for a loving heart to call our own.
Speak into the wind for it will carry our cries to the right ears.
Is there an escape?
Perhaps, yes If only in the recesses of our minds.
Wait and listen Hear the one searching for you.
Reach out with your soul and touch another to embrace it ever so close.
Restless, empty hearts Stand still!
Listen to the sounds of silence as the wind softly kisses your skin.
Reach out, eyes closed… To touch another just like you.
They too need one to trust, to share themselves, not wanting to be alone.
Love is like the wind with many ways to go and so many stories yet to tell.
Speak then listen…Someone is waiting to hear and answer your pleas.
Open your arms to welcome the one calling for you.
Like a kiss in the wind, they’re feelings are there, carried by and through the wind.
Answer the heart that is YOUR heart
They too are alone and have need of someone they can trust with their love.
Reach out, hear and FEEL them speaking to you!
Softly, yet so loudly hear the voice say, “Just kiss the wind For I AM HERE.”
CRYSTAL TEAR DROPS
Written by: T.W. Martindale
What do you, if I may ask, worry about in your “perfect” little world?
Grant me the pleasure of knowing this one thing
Is it for the safety of youur family that you yearn?
Or is it your wish to possess that which you do not, but others have?
Come travel with me on a journey through another oneís mind
Become one with me as I ponder the reason Yonah cried.
Can you open your heart to receive the unknown?
Or are you afraid of it Afraid to see the person you really are?
Come and see Hear the man, Yonah, as he cries.
Feel with me the heartache he feels for the pain of others from long ago.
IF you feel at all, you will feel as I feel.
Our spirits are ages past due for a release of feeling for others and our uncaring ways.
In his hand, he holds a book One he hopes will lead him home.
He is on a quest for his family and a people long ago.
As he reads, he begins to cry But Why?
Others walk by and see his tears Tears of sorrow, which can not be contained.
Those passing by can not understand these tears
The tears he sheds are crystal clear, for they are pure of heart.
They are shed in sadness for loved ones he has found.
Shed not only for them, but those that they knew.
Yonah is in search of his family but See what he has found.
He sees The Trail Of Tears shed by his family and those of their friends!
In his mind, he has walked with them hand in hand.
He has run with them for eternity, it seems, from those who oppressed and murdered them.
Have you yet to understand the reason for his tears?
Or are his thoughts so different from yours that you do not see?
Little does one understand the mind of another who is unlike them.
Many are those unwilling to identify with those who dare to be different.
I feel for each and every people who are or have ever been.
Do you care for others and the injustices they have born?
Are you able to cry with those who cry?
Have you ever cried for those who cried?
We need to learn to cry for those who longed to be free
Reach into your soul for the crystal tears you have long forgotten.
These are perfect drops, like Yonahís, and shed because of the cruelty of man.
Those who cried before him are the reason for the crystal tear drops that Yonah shed.
Written by: T.W. Martindale
Gracefully and silently he moves through the night the wolf.
He is searching but for what he does not know.
There is something something special uniquely HIS.
It must be there, For it is just like him alone.
He cries a woeful, lonesome cry.
There is no answer just the echo of his pleas into the night.
He cries, ” Is someone there?
Someone who cares? One like me also alone?”
Listen! The silence roars!
Looking. Searching. Needing
A yearning need.
Stop! Look. Listen.
Yes. Yes. He hears it. His quiet companion.
It whispers in the darkness, ” Here I am. Here I am.
Do you see me? Do – you – see – me? Remember me? “
Gently and softly it caresses his senses “I am here.
Reach out to me. Sing to me. Feel me. Know me. Love me
Yes, I too have need of you.
Remember me? Someone alone just like you”.
” Where? Where are you? “,
The lone wolf cries.
” Here. Let me caress your face your soul.
Sing to me your soothing love song and I will bathe you with my presence.”
” Yes, yes, I remember.
We are not alone, you and me
And to you, I gladly sing my song of love and longing
My friend my lover, the moon, my quiet companion “.
WHISPERS IN THE WIND
Written by: T.W. Martindale
My thoughts are forever restless. So endless.
Echoing questions come
rushing through my mind.
They are questions that refuse to be silenced!
So many in numbers. Yet they linger unanswered.
Many are the dreams
that continue unfulfilled.
Dreams that began so innocently. But still.
Perhaps a little selfish in nature.
A path seemingly for the purpose of self-fulfillment,
Thinking to establish who this person is. Such arrogance!
In the search, my eyes have finally opened.
They have opened to the significance of my journey.
In my conceited mind, I thought I knew, but did not.
It is of greater consequence than searching for one’s self.
Much greater.For it is to seek out truth!!
The truth and nothing else will put my mind at rest.
But this truth seems to be beyond my reach.
For to reach the truth, I must find the past,
And to find the past… I must reach the truth.
As my mind frantically grasps for it, I can feel it. Hear it
I hear truth whisper softly in the still of the night.
It touches my face and down into my soul.
Its answering pleas are written in the wind.
Yes, truth reaches out and soothes in a gentle caress.
It speaks with the voices of loved ones long since past.
I can hear many voices thought silenced long ago.
Just as I,these too refuse to be silenced.
They are the voices and shadows of families lost.
Lost.Seeking to be found by kindred blood.
Listen to the voices as they echo in the night!
Feel them as they are carried by the fingers of the wind.
Hear the lonely sounds of their anguish and pain!
They reach out in the dark silence of the night.
Reaching out to me..AND to you.
Torn from their homes and loved ones. They cry out!
“Here we are. Do you not feel our presence? Hear us!”
Yes.I hear them. and you can too.
Voices like whispers, will us to rest from our frenzied searching.
As we frantically sift through endless information, they wait.
Waiting..Waiting to show us where the true journey lies.
It is not merely a search for our OWN identities.
Granted.this is a truth that one must seek, but not just so.
We must reach into the past for those deserted and forgotten.
A journey that began as a search for me has changed directions.
But no! It has not changed its course altogether!
It has altered its path to become one with that of forgotten loved ones.
They have subtly merged their paths like a flowing mountain stream.
They seek to be reunited with those of us, their kindred blood.
Yes, this too is what I truly wish!
To finally find, not only me, but also all those I hold dear.
I have felt their sorrow AND their pain.
Where once they knew the freedom we so proudly boast,
This same liberty was quickly and ruthlessly stolen!
They cried out, but there was no one to hear and none who cared.
Their freedom, their lives- even their dignity was torn apart!
Even so, this merciless massacre of human worth may still be mended.
But not by apologies, nor by human platitudes can it be done.
This mending must be done by us, their surviving descendants.
Although the damage can not be totally repaired, we CAN ease their pain.
They call to us as voices whispering in the wind, to bring them home.
We must listen! We MUST for upon us they rest their hopes.
NOW is the time for us who love them to BRING THEM HOME!
Their echoing pleas can be heard if we will only listen!
Listen! Answer! Bring them home and give them rest.
They gave up their lives for the ones they loved.
And for these same people, we search our family ties.
YesÖWe too love them just as they loved before.
Our endeavors to bring the past to the present prove this is true.
Time for blind eyes to be opened no matter the tongue or nationality.
We must bring them home and give them rest.
We must listen. Listen to the whispers in the wind.
ENTER THE BUTTERFLY
Written by: T.W. Martindale
An insignificant creature am I
I’ve nothing to boast but that I exist.
Thought quite unimportant, I can be more.
Comem look upon my pitiful form and you will see
I am looked down upon and sneered at by some.
Totally overlooked by others, I’m of no consequence at all.
Oh, meaningless wretch that I am! This is my life.
One day at a time, step by step, inch by inchÖI WILL BE MORE!
Having so little to offer, but I offer ALL that I am.
Asking what I have to give, I answer, “I give you me.”
Not much am I now, but someday, somehow, I will be more.
Watch me. Tend to me. Nurture me, and you will see!
Slowly but surely, a day at a time I am changing.
I feel the growing pains come and retreat to my shell.
All who have laughed me to scorn believe to have proven their opinion of me.
But deep inside my haven, the metamorphosis begins
Having withdrawn for but a while, I only wait
In the world I have cocooned about myself, I am growing changing.
Taking on the life of a recluse, I know not how long I must wait.
But after the storm of mocking and scorn, I will emerge and….Enter The Butterfly!