Two Poems and Three Haiku by Christina Martin

 

The Invisible Voice

The blue wind
Casting out doubts
A constant voice of something larger
More reliable than myself

Pours soft waves
Over my head
Before dying down on its way
To another forest

Where another one needs to hear it,
Drink in its deep chord
Hear the gates open
Into the untouched fields

Of bells and honey wine
Glasses clinking, smiles and
Faith, rolling with blue star flowers
On a blue wind

Bare Places

It never stops, the wrinkling air
Fingering sore gaps in buildings
Where it finds the bare spot
Unprotected by any growth

In this naked place of old dirt
Forgotten potholes, crumbling
Bits of brick, scrags of
Concrete clog the screams of loss.

The wind, pitiless, slices points
Off corners, picks at the skin
Of a beggar's back. I walk, eyes blank
Like that phantom's. Myself, in shreds.

Nothing for me here but hunger
And sorrow, weeds from tears, but
I'll look up, see the sky while I  can
Even in the bare dirt.

Wind haiku

in the wind
the sound
of forests

in my face
the new wind
of apple trees

in my face
wind from apple trees
where sparrows play

Christina Martin lives in West Wales and takes her inspiration from the sea and the natural world, finding the magical and strange in much of life. Her poetry has been published in various journals including Nature Writing Magazine, Light, Presence, Wales Haiku Journal, Failed Haiku and Lothlorien Poetry Journal. She has published two adventure novels in the magical realism genre, as well as three collections of poetry, a novella and a collection of short stories and a short book of meditations on nature.