Friday, November 2, 2012

Of Failure and Friends





No one begins at failure
Failure is nobody’s goal
So we ought to encourage each other
And not be so critical

We all need a shoulder to lean on
Love does not boast or gloat
Iron sharpens iron
It is not a blade against the throat

Nobody is a failure
Who among us has not fallen?
We should reach out to each other
Helping the feeble and burdened

Failure is not a destination
But simply a stepping stone
And we all need each other
Nobody should struggle alone

No one begins at failure
And failure is not an end
We all ought to encourage each other
And simply be a friend

© Janet Martin

Last night at my mom's birthday celebration my dad encouraged us to, as parents, never to give up or dwell too long on our failures but to keep the faith and keep on keeping on.

Why is it so easy for us to believe in failure rather than success?
Failure is a rung on life's ladder. I'm contemplating the definition of failure this morning.




Of Moons and other Wonders



 image source:pinterest

PAD Prompt: Full Moon

It does not labor from the skyline like a sluggish beast
But slips above earth’s far elusive brim
A silver circle diadem ascending from the east
To garnish midnight’s muted, maudlin scrim

Since Eden’s birth the sun ignites the lunar lamp of dusk
Beneath its plaintive gaze of centuries
We live and die; earth-creature is but gasp of dust to dust
Sun, moon and stars, celestial deities

Beneath the gleam of astral rendering we plant and plow
The sun rules day, the moon and stars the night
While we of meeker stance must wipe the sweat-drop from the brow
And ponder things like God and death and life

What gracious kindness that Creator God did not declare
The night to be as deep and dark as hell
But breathed above the drop of earth resplendent radiance where
The mouths of men cannot its mystery tell

Thus, he who holds the glorious heavenly bodies in His grip
Knows the unknowns; and He is coming soon
We are not stranded here on some forgotten, drifting ship
To stare in hopeless wonder at the moon

© Janet Martin





Full Moon Haiku





Beneath orb pallor
the earth is a silver sea
where we drift homeward

***
beneath harvest moon
autumn day has gifted hours
to gather in sheaves

***

beneath heaven’s broach
the spoil of worldly beggars
is putrid plunder

***

mellow misty moon
paints platinum poetry
on onyx ocean

***

silver stepping stone
lover's lone lunar lamplight 
polished perfection

***

gleaming, gentle gaze
probes passionate pondering
without word-wisdom

***

Janet~



Thursday, November 1, 2012

Simply and Dearly, Mom...



As I look back in retrospect
At those years in my life
I now deeply respect
Your example as a wife
But in those days
Those cherished days
Of home sweet home
You were and are still
Simply and dearly,
Mom

From 8:00 routine of toasting
A 22 slice loaf of bread
For breakfast every morning
As hungry mouths were fed
From the order you established
To efficiently run
The home of a large family
To get all the work done
You were in our eyes
Simply and dearly
Mom

Mom, I admire the time you took
To teach a job done right and well
Whether it was packing food into jars for canning
Smack, smack on the hand to pack, pack enough in…
Or how to properly clean the upstairs on a Saturday morning
You were so patient in our grumbling…
(and sometimes if we had a good book in our room it took a while to clean)
I remember when you taught me the proper way to make a bed
And how you said, a job worth doing is worth doing our best
I remember not then, but now, your patience if breakfast was late
You did not complain to Dad, or scold him or berate

I don’t know who invented the game ‘longest, quietest, GO!’
But with ten talkative chatter-box children it was a blessing, I know…
And we pinched our busy mouths shut, aching with the need to talk
Hoping someone would so they would be ‘out’! WE couldn’t grunt or squawk… then we pointed at the perpetrator triumphantly until soon enough we forgot and spoke…aw-w-w! I’m not sure who the regular winner was…or who gave it its name but I remember Dad suggesting we could play ‘that game’.

The ordinaries make the most beautiful memories. Dad and Mom sitting with toothpicks after a meal, and oh, every so often Dad’s blue eyes would begin to twinkle…and he would reach slowly into his shirt pocket and pull out a pack of GUM! Were there enough sticks for everyone…oh no, they’re all gone…and, and, I don’t have one! Oh, look, there’s another pack in there…of course. Mom and Dad never had favorites, or as Mom would say ‘she has 10 favorites’ if we did ask…then, after we were all chewing we would turn to appointed tasks…some to the barn, some to the dishes…some to the mud-room bench for a snooze or day-dream…
In my mind’s eye still, sometimes I hear Dad whistling hymns as he milked, mom humming as she worked tirelessly, it seemed.
Mom darning socks with a light-bulb on the inside to make darning easy…memories go on and on…



And when we say the words ‘home’ and ‘memory’
Our minds each see its own cherished spaces
But I’m sure we’d agree that the unity
Mom and Dad portrayed is the basis
For many a precious thought-picture
Of patient love and duty
And while we were busy being children
We didn’t consider their beauty
But now, as fathers and mothers
Each in our own homes
We realize how blessed we were
By the examples unwaveringly shown
And we begin to understand
That in spite of ups and downs that come
We want to be
In our child’s memory
Simply and dearly
Mom

(or Dad)

Janet~

Tonight at mom's birthday celebration each of us 10 kids will share a few memories of our childhood...






Extravagant Mother





We had so much
And what we lacked
We didn’t know
Being blessed to heaven and back
Because we had
An extravagant mother
Extravagant with her time
Extravagant with her patience
And extravagant with her love

It never occurred to us back then
Of all she did without
‘Did you get anything for me?’
I still hear eager voices shout
As she returned from a day to town
To purchase necessities
I don’t ever recall her saying
'Don’t touch cause
It’s for me'

We had so much though I suppose
When it came to things
Some of the kids most likely thought
We didn’t have much
Of anything
But I know now
And I thank God
For the blessings he gave us above any other
For we had the beautiful love
Of a very extravagant Mother

© Janet Martin

Happy 70th Birthday, Mom
I love you~

For-never-more...





Sometimes I slip out there simply to feel the chill
Of fall becoming winter; ah, time intends no ill
In its giving and retrieving; a simultaneous breath
For this is life’s full circle; all things living will face death
Just as autumn becomes winter; just as youth slips to the crypt
Where centuries are gathered unrelenting and tight-lipped
Whisper-joys and grief of living; they are wave-laps on a shore
Little drops forming an ocean of by-gone’s for-nevermore


© Janet Martin




The Match of Autumn's Lilt



It's Writer's Digest's November PAD Challenge. Today's Prompt: Matches



The match that lit the hills a-fire
In autumn’s ruddy glow
Is snuffed by chill November’s ire
Exhaled in rain and snow

Leaf-lullaby and willow-sigh
Falls to the garden path
The quiet reaches to the sky
In autumn’s aftermath

The lamp-lighter of verdant tress
Wanders the stricken hill
As sky-lines flaunt the nakedness
Of autumn’s waning will

The bully breeze has snuffed the gold
The match of autumn’s lilt
Is buried in the burnished hold
Where its leaf-tear is spilt


© Janet Martin

I Feel Your Lips Smile





I feel your lips smile softly in the dark
The quiet swells; an ocean without form
I rest my head where retrospect is warm
A summer’s eve as autumn’s stance grows stark
The surge of centuries claims one more day
October sheds her final farewell leaf
Her shoulders droop; fall’s lithesome dance is brief
And leaf by leaf her garment drifts away
The darkness cannot shield the thought of you
A thousand midnights cannot seal your sigh
I crawl to kiss October’s feet good-bye
She fades across a field of frosted dew
The echo of her past rides on the breeze
I hold it fast in ageless memories

***

Is there an antidote for loneliness?
And is it found within a crowded crowd?
Where images are wearying and loud?
The night is kinder in its wantonness
I lean into its still, somber embrace
Its solace is both friend and enemy
Exposing both the best and worst of me
I feel your lips smile, soft against my face
A soul-mate comprehends unuttered thought
Spilling into night’s deep and onyx hole
As we exchange the language of the soul
Not chained in word or shared in ink-formed jot
But rendered to each other part by part
As we converse in whispers of the heart

***

The by and by of summer’s twilight waits
Even for deviant poets such as us
The noise of plebeian masses fume and fuss
October’s farewell tolls and dissipates
As up into the froth of sequined air
The ebb and flow of moments coalesce
We tremble; the portend of love’s caress
Is almost more than you and I can bear
The hour plods toward November’s dawn
We cannot halt its winnowing intent
How soon, how soon another year is spent
As tears of autumn deck the street and lawn
Ah, this is life; so much of love to learn
I feel your lips smile; I smile in return

© Janet Martin