Thursday, April 24, 2014

The Mind Travels Differently After Dark

The mind travels differently after dark
Somewhat like a drifter or spiraling spark
Suddenly senses are keened, as deep blue
Rolls over sky-scape and earth’s avenue
Night-thought is a rover; it touches with ease
Heart-harbored hunger and intricacies

The mind travels differently when it is night
Somehow the hurry of chores and daylight
Muddles its musing and orders its will
But oh, when the sun falls behind violet hills
Thought becomes pensive; a dancer of sorts
As over the whisper of years he cavorts

The mind travels differently beneath the stars
Tracing the tenure of Time’s tender scars
Lacing its fingers through faraway hands
Treading the silver of yesterday’s sands
For the mind is foot-loose and free as a lark
…a wayfaring traveler after dark

© Janet Martin

Of Inadequacies...(revamped re-post)

From sometime this afternoon until after dark tonight I worked at burning a huge pile of branches gathered from winter storms.The mind travels differently after dark...

Night cannot unravel longing from need
Time cannot sever the hand from the deed
And mind cannot deftly dismantle with thought
Soul-stirring swansong of all that is not
Heartache and hunger and hope intertwine
Moonlight and memories meld; midnight-wine
Darling, the distance between have and hold
Trembles in fathoms beyond our control
Where word is the pilgrim that humbly implores
Searching an ocean of want for its shores

We’ve held in half-breaths life’s sweet, finite bliss
We’ve borne the heartache of its farewell kiss
We’ve stripped the silence and searched its dark vaunt
To glean from its tresses the echoes that taunt
We’ve held each other and danced; long and slow
Knowing sweet sorrow comes when we let go
Rising and falling, we've laughed, learned and wept
Touching thought-shadows while wiser men slept
And as all earth slumbered in sable repose
We wrestled numbers and yeses and nos

Darling, the stuff that weaves thought is enough
Ever the flip-side of longing is love
The flip-side of love is desire within
Ever unconquered in flesh-garbs of skin
So here in this moment wrapped blue in night-air
Love is a lion and love is a prayer
Bastion of passion and purposed belief
Bulwark of beautiful, beautiful grief
Dredge the deep, darling, for a lover's pain
Reminds us that we have not lived in vain

© Janet Martin

Broken Shadows or Tell it to Time's Fellow-creatures

PAD Challenge day 24: write a Tell it to(fill in the blank) poem

Come, come, the morn has broken
Through shadow-chains, deep blue
It splays love’s faithful token
Across earth’s avenue
The hour like a flower
Unfolds from bud to bloom
Before its petals shower
An hour’s ether tomb

Come, come and do not tarry
For lo, upon the breeze
I sense the phantom hurry
Of ‘almost memories’
Tomorrow is a thought, love
And yesterday a ghost
But come, the morning offers
To us life’s uttermost

Come, come, the jars of sorrow
Will brim with love’s lament
But we can never borrow
A moment that is spent
And joy in equal portions
Is waiting to bestow
Hope’s moment-mimed allotment
As by God’s grace we go

Come, come, for soon dusk-shadows
Will draw to Naught’s embrace
The after math of scattered
Expenditures of grace
And we, Time's fellow-creatures
Cannot afford to miss
The fullness of a morning
That soon no longer is…

© Janet Martin

Off to its graces! Happy Thursday.

Tell it to Yourself

PAD Challenge day 24: make your title; Tell it to(fill in the blank) then write your poem

…because the chariot of fire that sweeps the sky
Soon fades beneath vesper lullaby
With shadows sketched on the old stone wall
Where once a barn stood tall, but fall
And winter-spring-summer have taken their toll
Still, we tell ourselves we are not so old
And being mature is fine, like wine
And we tell ourselves that we don’t mind
The evidence of ‘wisdom’ where
Once raven tresses pleased our stare
Before the understanding of
Ecclesiastes bared its proof
And suddenly we realize
Truth is immutable; the lies
We told ourselves when we were young
Have borne their fruit; and we were wrong
Though Knowledge tricked us for awhile
Nothing has power to beguile
Time’s merry moments from its clocks
As years fall prey to soldered locks
Of air; though we rebel no one can fight
This swell of morning-noon-to-night
The Equalizer of a man
Comes once to all; a subtle hand
And then one day we say it, small
Our parents were right after all’

© Janet Martin

Wednesday, April 23, 2014


When I heard this song I had to think of hubby and the spell of eighteen wheels...and then, what makes the rest of us tick... What ignites that 'fire' for you?

When the sun splashes on highways in the color of the dawn
And diesel-fumes come drifting through the window ‘cross the lawn
Darling, I see you shift your glance while a soft half-grin steals
Across your face; your gaze beneath the spell of eighteen wheels…

When greens are giddy with spring glory golfers don their clubs and carts
When May spills in golden laughter gardeners spill seeds and hearts
When thought blooms into breath-pictures artists reach for paint and brush
And the spell of daylight dying draws the dreamer to its hush

When the dust begins a-stirring then the farmer starts to grin
Give a baker flour, sugar, eggs and butter; she will sing
The crack of bats in summer-dusk fills baseball fans with rampant joy
And a mother holds her fullest love in precious little girls and boys

Ocean-waves lure lean, lithe surfers and the gym lures Mr. Buff
They say an archaeologist thrills in scraping stones and stuff
The preacher pounds the pulpit as his fire expounds the Word
The musician strums his guitar; and the gambler shuffles cards

Who would think a tiny tendril filled with ink could cast a spell?
Or that word could stir a tumult too preeminent to quell
Slender pinion, without movement you arouse a silent storm
Where impulses of a poet are betaken by your form

© Janet Martin

Ah, Wherefore Art Thou Hiding?, the snow is mostly gone but it was below freezing this morning and the blue wind growls like a bully...

Then let thy verdant impulse overtake this umber sweep
Vile chords of chilling wind-song immerses blue, moody deep
And though we know for things worth waiting for, ah we must wait
Straining, we grasp at echoes of wisteria-laden gate
Springtime, springtime come lightly with warm kisses on thy breeze
How long must we be patient for thy fragrant melodies?

Spread wide thy frock of flowers and shake free thy gleaming tress
Fair maiden, lovely-laden, pray what hampers thy caress?
Didst thou forget thy way while winter pulverized his mat?
See, we stand with arms flung wide where meadow-lands lie flat
Springtime, springtime, do not linger behind a stricken stile
You are everybody’s darling and we miss your bonny smile

As the hart pants after water, sweet springtime, we pant for thee
Hunched long beneath our ragged optimistic misery
Yet spurred by recollection of lush orchard on green hill
Of fallow donning color where mute seed begins to spill
Springtime, springtime, ah, wherefore art thou hiding; in the dell?
Or hast thou simply lost thy way while winter bid farewell?

© Janet Martin

The Most Important Location Ever

PAD Challenge day 23: write a location poem


When or

Is all
There is…

© Janet Martin

Of Veiled Chambers

PAD Challenge day 23: write a location poem

I’ve never seen it
Yet know it exists
And here you have held me
In bittersweet tryst

Here you have pondered
And pleaded the force
Ever deploying
Time’s sleepless discourse

This gaze-veiled chamber
Compels me to stare
Deep, deep into wondering
What else might be there

Who sits beside me
And what do we say
And oh, do you mention
Her name when you pray?

I will never see it
Yet it exists, I know
For thought is a room
Without windows, but oh…

© Janet Martin

Here in the Crook 'o Morning

PAD Challenge day 23: write a location poem

Here in the crook o’ morning
We cannot tell what lies
Begging at our doorsteps
Within time’s hungry eyes

The troubadour of sorrow
Or minstrel of our song
Aligns; yesterday’s morrow
Refurbishes the dawn

We touch our heart to heaven
…our feet to living’s dirt
Where have and holding renders
Love’s ever-sacred hurt

…and here in morning’s cradle
Of virgin imminence
We beseech Mercy’s favor
For gracious providence

© Janet Martin


Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Ah, Great Lonesome...

 I know I posted this song not so long ago here but listening to this tune evokes a Great Lonesome until...

Ah, Great Lonesome, you would kill me
Spread like cancer through my soul
Not for lack of smiles and kisses
But for That which makes me Whole
Tell me, cold and nameless Hunger
What is it you covet so?
Tormenting both old and younger
With a hollow, weeping throe

Ah, Great Lonesome, fearless hunter
Stalking wonder for its prize
Taking prisoners without pity
Lodging in Want’s thankless sighs
Tell me, sad and silent stranger
What is it you strive to seek?
Without pardon or permission
You trace teardrops on my cheek

Ah Great Lonesome, haunting fetter
But for tender triumph where
I can flee; a pining beggar
At the mercy of a prayer
Here, upon Love’s lavish promise
Though you taunt and weep and wail
I am safe within the comfort
Of One Love that cannot fail

© Janet Martin

All Grace

Regret is a bully with heavy shoes
Self-confidence a fraud
Accomplishment is a sad ruse
Without the love of God

Despair blinds us to what is good
Blame crushes precious hope
Courage cannot do what it should
Without God’s hand to hold

Anger; the scythe that slaughters joy
Fear dictates where faith fails
Belief is but a misplaced buoy
Lest God’s sure truth prevails

Guilt cannot abdicate at will
Nor can remorse forgive
Life without God is death until
At last by grace we live

© Janet Martin