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

Fire-light

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?

...so, 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

Here.

Now.

Not

When or

If

But

Here.

Now.

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

 

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