Reasons I write and read poetry
...because summer slips through the stars far too soon
because morning drip-drips into afternoon ...
Warning (this is one of those poems I had to rein in with 'whoa Nellie'!)😉
Because the brook murmurs and the milk cow moos
And little tot flutters his big, baby blues
…and mothers are always with their child in heart
And new day is always a fresh work of art
Because spring, ah spring fills and spills dappled drink
Where the poet grapples with purple and pink
Where blossom-confetti wafts softly and decks
The emerald of earth with pastel-perfumed flecks
…because after the hour of flower is through
A poem can gather its petals anew
…because trouble and sorrow must have its say
But a Poem can brush tender tears away
Or usher salt-stars from soul-deeps to the shore
To help hurt and hunger find laughter once more
Because wonder, wishes and worry oft spar
Because of who, what, where and how people are
Because we love Beauty; how its steals our breath
And Poem can suture the wounds of its death
To remind, as its stitches brave the eyes of men
That Richness remains to make us glad again
Because we all need the Greatest of These; love
Not one of us, by ourselves is complete or enough
For love must be given in order to find
And how can we give without someone in mind
And then when we feel the heel of heartache press
Love, wrapped in Poem can stir happiness
And Happiness hinged to the Giver of life
Makes worthy this earthy fling of joy and strife
Because of the cross that precedes Victor's Crown
Where Love gave Himself and laid His life down
I write poetry to keep pieces of Past
The music of moments slips through us so fast
It’s hard to remember September, my dears
After the culled ember of leaf disappears
After laughter’s lilt in farewells that must be
The grave keeps the body but we, poetry (aka memories)
Forgive me for rambling; the rhythm of rhyme
Teases font to dance to the rubric of time
Because when its bully kicks me in the shin
I retaliate with a poem, and grin
I write when the rush of ink runs deep-sea blue
The page is a chasm for Poem to run through
I write in parched places when I must beseech
The pen to touch the faces that fingers can’t reach
Because Poem whispers across years and miles
The world drawn together by syllabic smiles
Because I believe we would all better be
If we took more time to read more poetry
Because my dear love, we are all fellowmen
And Poem can mother our common-ground yen
...and Poem can help us on throughways of sod
To grace gifted breath by the glimpses of God
Ah, look there His touch, where without poetry
Trouble and such might be all we would see
So I write Poetry, lest noise-mongers dim
The eye and the ear to the Whisper of Him
Because we all need Someone worth living for
While work-work-work keeps the wolf from the door
While live-laugh-love wears the glove of life thin
While we stuff echoes into pockets of skin
…because the wall crumbles that stood tall and strong
Because nothing stays The Way It Is for long
Because better days are not always ahead
And Poem is life’s bit o’ butter on bread
Because we all grow old sooner than we thought
Stunned by Surrender whether willing or not
And none of us knows how long Future will be
Then by all means, darling, let’s live poetry
For what could be better than living life smitten
With poetry still waiting to be written
© Janet Martin
