Down goes the beat
Of the heart that stands
In time before the end

Down goes the beat
Of the very heart
That beats within my hand
And softens me

Down goes the stirring
Of the head that turns the beat
That ends the strife and ends
The winding down.

Up goes the beat
The beat that turns the head
That causes hope to flourish
And waltzes into heaven
With a smile upon its face.

Books by Marty

Of Water and Sand

A simple lunch at the beach becomes a symphony picnic choreographed by God in the details of nature.  Birds flit back and forth at the water’s edge.  The strong smell of seaweed and saltwater storm my nose and remind me why I love the shore so much.  It’s a perfect blend of sounds and smells.  The fish leap out of the water, breaking faith with the moisture below to become part of airborne groups above.  Although for just a moment, they transport themselves from the world of water dwellers to that of air breathers for an instant in time.  Therein lies the beauty of God.  Therein lie the answers to many of life’s questions.

From the grains of sand under my feet to the countless droplets of water that form the crashing waves, the Lord God has put his mark on them all.  His blueprint stands behind each iteration of a wave rolling into the surf making white foam in its coming.  The times in between each wave – the count – they too represent the finery of the majesty that stands in all.

There is a marked pristineness to an empty beach.  In the moments that it’s unoccupied by human eyes, it’s still appreciated by the countless other creatures residing in and around it.  The water is alive with life: teeming with fishes and monsters of the deep that live in retrospect to our finite knowledge of their existence.  Even though we don’t see them nor know their names, we still appreciate that they’re there.  We count it good even in the eyes of the vultures that glide by in air scouring the ground below for the beginning of a feast.

Pelicans have just passed overhead.  They steered out of the way, as if to avoid me.  I wonder if it was out of fear or because of an innate nature to steer around.  Either way, their change of direction gave me great pleasure in the appearance of their forms.  Now again, seven more flew over the other direction.  This time they were straight overhead.  I was able to see and appreciate another angle of their magnificent flying.  They’re amazing creatures.

Sadly, I have to return to another part of the world for now.  However, soon I will come back to this empty stretch of beach and touch once again that part of my being that is of water and sand.

Books by Marty

Wayward Fashion of Hope

A candle stands against
The impending storm
And raises its flickering light in contrast
To the coming darkness.

It is through the leaping flame
That the light gains its brilliance
And casts out its power
For miles around.

Almost imperceptible to the rest of humanity,
The candle gives an abundance of reassurance
To those nearest it.

When standings come to be
A wayward fashion of hope,
The light will shine forth even
In the darkest of nights.

Its light will go forth
Reminding people of better times
And never lessen,
Even in the seemingly final days.

Books by Marty

Looking Well

The roundness of a person’s face,
Caused by the roundness of a smile,
Reaches far back into the heart of my mind
And touches that part of humanity
That needs reminding of its purpose.
From that viewpoint
Does the rest of the world
Look well again.

Books by Marty

From Limb to Dew-top

Riling down upon the ground
Of golden trespass leaves
The weighted down of yellow hosts
Flurry in their fall

They reach the bottom of their flight
And land upon the dew
It’s there they’ll rest in gathered wait
Until their time is through.

Books by Marty

Wood Grains of Tune

The noises that become a song are the same as the words that become a poem.  They start out as chunky bits of effervescence and turn into something beautiful.  The hard starts become smooth finishes, just as splinters are taken off by the sander.

Grit rubs across the top parts and grinds them down to join the rest of the fragrant pieces below.  As sand grains turn to dust, the roughness becomes smooth and gives way to the eloquent patterns inside.  Stains draw out the natural colors and let them shine through the overall faceplate of wood.

Tunes sharpen, soften, blend together making melody and harmony – reaching deeply into the soul to bring forth the deadened parts of humanity and put life back into that which needed reviving.

And words have levied the day against darkness.

Finding a Literary Agent

Over the past few weeks, I’ve queried 45 literary agents (AARonline.org) about TREVOR AND THE DARK RIDER, Book 1.  It’s been an interesting experience.  “Grinding it out” is the best way I can describe getting them done.   Now, the wait.

Have any of you done similar?  I’d love to hear your stories.

As the process of finding a traditional publisher progresses, I’ll still keep moving forward by sending it to print soon at CreateSpace.  It will also be available for Kindle.

When someone eventually puts it under contract, then they can make any changes desired to title, cover, page count, font, etc.  Until then, I’m still working toward getting it on the shelves and in the hands of kids around the world.

Book Synopsis:
High school student attempts to stop a mastermind that’s been secretly causing wars throughout history.  Think “Artemis Fowl” crossed with “Home Alone” and “The Librarian”.  A completed Middle Grade / YA novel at 41,000 words.  Ages 10+.

Keep writing great words!