Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Sonnet of Waning Even-tide

When daylight fades and twilight’s lids grow heavy
When sky and earth don night-time’s muffled shawl
When all the ships are harbored in the levee
Silence unmarred, save for the loon’s faint call
When dreary toil is laid aside til morning
When Home-fires soothe our petty wants and woes
When darkened limbs are stripped of spring’s adorning
Skeletal against the dim-lit half-moon glows
I sense upon night’s stealthy cusp, a warning
The portent of a quickly waning rose

Ah, life is but a swiftly fading flower
How fair the bud, still waiting to unfold
How brilliant is youth’s vibrant morning hour
How sweet the dream harbored in vision bold
How quickly now the bud becomes a blossom
Its glorious beauty cheers the hastening day
While in the hidden portals of love's bosom
Softly she lets the small dream sail away
Better than dreams, the golden fruit of wisdom
Better than youth, a crown of silver-gray

Where does the darkness go in dawn's returning?
Where does the spirit fly when bodies rest?
Where is the fortune now that steals our yearning?
What is the hope that burns within our chest?
Where is the One who rules Time's still transition
The seasons, days and tides that slip to naught
Where is the final object of our vision?
The gathering of treasure that we sought
Have we obtained love's ticket into Heaven
Or must we tell life's Giver we forgot?


Morning at The Window or Windows...

a morning at the windows...
watching as the miraculous dawning
expands across the sky

nudging deflated shadows
back, beneath trees and awnings
I watch a lone bird fly

across the tinted canvas
that only God can claim
the trees, stark pencil-drawings

etched in perfect stillness
isn't it a shame
that we miss these perfect mornings

as we stare at Windows
instead of through them...?


Inspired by Violet Nesdoly's poem today.

First Time for Everything...Limericks

Once there was a girl named Janet
Who would hide behind words like cannot
But one day she tried
And fears logic defied
And awoke on a wonderful planet

Once there was a would-be poet
Who was far too frightened to show it
But poet’s are kind
And their love, softly blind
She’s met enough, now, to know it

Words are still free in recession
Penned in sweet, care-free confession
When asked, is it true?
We reply, it’s up to you
And return to the poet’s obsession


Just People...


We’re just people…
Without God allowing it
There is nothing we can do
We’re just people
I am me
And you are you…
And we need each other
Oh, it’s true
Because when we need each other
It’s amazing what
‘Just people’ can do

When we put an arm around the grieving
Share with them a mutual tear
When we love without condemning
We draw bits of heaven near
When we walk a second mile
All alone and in the rain
Knowing somewhere angel’s smile
Because we share another’s pain
When we touch the little child
And sometimes let them lead the way
When we forgive and reconcile
When we pause a while to pray
When we give and no one sees
But the Father up above
When we get down on our knees
And sit with those who can’t stand up
When we seek the others best
Never thinking of our own
Knowing someone will be blessed
By the little love we’ve shown…
When we join hands in unity
And lay aside our strife
To be all that we can be
In this little thing called life
When we love the way God loves us
Never mind our shape or skin
When together we join forces
Then together we will win...

We’re just people
Yes, it’s true
I am me
And you are you
But we need each other
Oh, this is true
Then oh, it’s amazing
What ‘just people’ can do


Today's Prompt: Against the odds

Life Song

I have heard it in the still of the midnight
Strummed by a wandering breeze
Or from you breathing softly
As you sleep next to me

I have heard it in the laughter of children
As Daddy return’s from his toil
I have heard it in utter silence
As a seed pushes through the soil

Where love is stronger than judgment
I’ve heard its melody
Or as I turn a brittle page
Of ancient poetry

In the clutter of every-day living
In a moment of undeserved grace
I've heard it rise from life's ruins
To kiss a tear-stained face

I’ve heard it in the hollow of longing
In midnight’s quietness
A song of life and living
And quiet thankfulness


By the Time You Read This...

By the time you read this
Midnight will have swept
Another day to the past
While morning is hovering
A silver-white thread
Beneath the night’s charcoal mast

By the time you read this
We all will have stepped
One day closer to eternity
Even now ever surely
A moment has crept
From present to history

By the time you read this
You and I will have slept
Closely or oceans apart
Moments move on
Without thought or respect
But you, love, remain in my heart


Tuesday, November 29, 2011

After Closing Time

Akin to the still of a graveyard
Is the deserted market-place
The stands, like squat, faceless statutes
Stare silently into space
A stray leaf scuttles up the street
As if to amplify
The emptiness where mobs of feet
By day, go rushing by

Come, buy your apples, trinkets, bling
Come, buy yourself a treat
We’ve got the best of everything
Our prices won’t be beat
The merchants and the barterers
Each seek the sweeter deal
Bargain and antique hunters
Looking for a steal

The square, a sea of splendor
The scowl, the gleam, the smile
They drift between each vendor
And up and down each aisle
Until the shroud of twilight
Signifies its close
The humble merchant smiles tonight
And buys his wife a rose

Akin to the still of the graveyard
Is the deserted market-place
The hawker and the merchant gone
Leaving no shred or trace
Of all the hustling, bustling throng
That shuffled past its ware
Nothing but a stray leaf scuttling along
On a bare and empty square


Still We Come

Still we come
Each in our own fashion
To bow before
The Lord of all creation
Still we come
To kneel beside the manger
But to us
Praise God, He is no Stranger
Yet, still we ask
What can we bring that pleases
Such love as this
This One that we call Jesus

Still we come
To marvel at the wonder
Of God’s own Son
As babe within a manger
Still we come
In human imperfection
To bow before
Our Life and Resurrection
Oh lift your voice
This is the King of Glory
Sing and rejoice
This is Love’s perfect story

Still we come
Fraught with sin’s vile diseases
For there is none
That cannot come to Jesus
In wonderment
Drawn by His vast compassion
To love beyond
Man’s earth-dimmed comprehension
Still we come
To bow before our Savior
Man’s common bond
Is Jesus Christ forever

Janet Martin

This was inspired by the little guys I baby-sit...
It was the Nativity Scene, not the tree, that captured their wonder...

(I did not notice that they had combined both sets until after the picture, oh well:)

Perfect Awakening

The correspondence of finger-tips

Is surely love’s sweetest language

Teasing me from passive dreaming

To the soft awareness of you

Touching me

Wherever in the world you are


Today's Prompt: a day poem

or a night poem...ah, the endless possibilities:)

Monday, November 28, 2011

Bedtime Stories

We travel the world

She and I

Her bed is a vessel

That can sail or fly

We swim with mermaids

And walk on the moon

We are the sailors

Of a magic pontoon

We march out of Egypt

‘neath Moses command

We race on the beaches

Of tropical sand

We eat at the King’s table

Or sleep in a box

With the three little bears

We meet Goldilocks

We are the cowboys

The ruffians, the queen

We pick grapes in Sicily

Rove Ireland’s greens

We shiver with pioneers

And suffer their woes

We live in a palace

And wear the queen’s clothes

We brave the storms

And the pirates at sea

We swing from the stars

And land in Chile

We cry with the orphans

Sing with the Von Trapps

We explore with Tom Sawyer

In an acorn, take naps

And we simply can’t wait

For our next thrilling trip

To the past or the future

On our white, linen ship

As we travel the world

From our cozy, warm nook

A mother, a girl

And a story-book


Unshared Story

On the week-end when no one was looking
You were so nice to me
But back to school Monday, held things more important
Like popularity

We lived on the north side
And I assumed that was why
You gave yourself a license
To laugh; I tried not to cry

Age and time bestow maturity
We move past the resentment and pain
I saw you yesterday; and instantly
I knew that scars remain…


Today's Prompt: -----Story

Sunday, November 27, 2011

She said, 'My Name is Hope'

She said, ‘My name is Hope’
And then I knew
Hope is an angel
Five years old
With perfect black dread-locks
And I told her
Hope is beautiful
As her smile
Parted the heavy clouds...

Once, new-born perfection
Grasped my little finger
And heaven was warm
With soft silky hair
And a wee baby’s cry
Tonight, in his awkward drawn-out hug
I knew perfection has many layers
And love is thirteen years old
And nearly a man

Once, you whispered to me ‘just believe’
And I was afraid but I said ‘yes’
And then I knew
That God is a poet
Yet, I will never know why
He chooses to pour
The Perfection of His grace
In ten-thousand thousand
Kisses on my face



They come from everywhere
or anywhere
To rest
upon its shabby, unbiased form
Waiting for the train
or life
Or simply to escape
a sudden thunder-storm
A humble, red shoulder
of compassion
In a world of
concrete indifference


Prelude to Proof (Sunday Wordle)

Leftover sunshine quivers
Like soft strains of a violin
Subliminal master-piece hovers
On night’s mellow hastening
Upon earth’s ruddy fulcrum
The untidy moments of day
In a rustle of smug defiance
Shudder; before spinning away
I turn, in this rush of blue quiet
Tonight I am willing to prove
Darling, I am not gullible
But oh, I am in love


Tribute to my Grandma

Ninety-two years was not long enough
For me to learn to appreciate
The simplicity of your wisdom and love
But now, many years too late
Suddenly, graciously I find
The whisper of your wisdom
Echo in my mind
And when the tick of the clock grows heavy
And the daylight has long grown dim
I can still hear the creak of your rocking chair
As you hummed an old German hymn
With the mending basket for others
Always within your reach
As you helped out busy mothers
With stitches that somehow still teach
For when I think I am too tired
To move another step
I think of you, my dear Grandma
Never too tired to help
And all that I can hope for
As my feet climb this ladder of years
Is that someday someone will think of me
With a smile shining through their tears


Today's Prompt: A tribute poem

Saturday, November 26, 2011

The Unfolding of my Good, Old Days...

She tumbles into my morning
All blue-eyed and sleepy-headed
Then brings me the comics to read with her

He, feigning innocence, asks me
If there’s any way cookies could work
Into a healthy break-fast

I’m living in the good, old days, I know…

They have succeeded in emptying my fridge
And the gas tank in the van
And, sometimes that well of patience

They forget more than they remember
Then feel so bad

Oh, yes, I’m living in the good, old days

People smile when they see my grocery cart
And ask if I’m feeding the town
I smile, and say it’s amazing
How much food kids and their friends can down…

…and I return to my oven, and the kitchen-sink
And my mountain of laundry,
Tripping over an ocean of shoes left inside the door
And I sweep the floor for the ump-teenth time

…yet I know,
I’m living in the good, old days
As little moments drift away
Like the dizzy leaf spiraling on the wind


It struck me as I surveyed my mental to-do list
and as the morning began unfolding
that I really am living in my 'good,old days'...

Good Old Days #2

I recall that day
A blue-eyed promise
Called summer

The good old days are good
Because the mind has the ability
To forget the bad

Once, I told my dad
I wished we still lived
In the good old days,
He replied, ‘well, here is a pail
The creek is just beyond the hill,
But you better take something to break the ice’...

I thought the good, old days
Were the days of the pioneer…
I remember them,
But then we got computers and cell-phones and…

In the good old days
Ignorance was bliss...

In the good old days
Youth didn't need a fountain...

Back in the good old days
I thought you would change
And you thought I would not...

The wisdom of the good old days
Still is...

The good, old days
Never existed
Until there was history

The good, old days
Are being formed
Even as we breathe…

Good Old Days...

Yesterday, when you were mine
And all the world was ours
When dreams, like grapes upon a vine
And hope like budding flowers
Adorned the humble lintel
Like soft unspoken prayers
And words were kind and gentle
As we bore each others cares
Yesterday, before we blamed
Each other for our grief
Before our hearts, sad and ashamed
Revealed our unbelief
Before the leaves of summer’s trees
Lay heavy on the grass
And harbored tears stretched into years
Within an hour-glass
Yesterday, before the truth
Revealed itself in history
And all the untried dreams of youth
Were life’s most pleasant mystery
Yesterday, before the morrows
Fell away into the past
To a field of chosen sorrows
In a silence, iron-cast


Today's Prompt: Good, old days...

Friday, November 25, 2011

Mirror Images...or Mere images

Perception; a reflection of inspection or deception

Realization; an invasion of undressed deception

Honesty; untwisting twisted logic

Action: beginning with the face in the mirror

Reaction; Love.



On Consumption...


So many insightful words of wisdom at the the above link today...
So easy to consume and carry on...

So hard to teach the meaning of true love in words...
So easy to make lists.

So easy to consume words...
So hard to consume The Word.

There is no pretty color for greed.

Words without action are nothing but a fickle breeze.

Why am I content to be a victim of my own pathetic excuses?

I have much less than 'they'
That must mean I'm okay...

If we learn the true meaning of Love
the rest will fall into place.

Prayer; Dear God, teach us to Love...

Logical Thinking...

After a trip to the local dump
And a yard-sale
We finally had some room...
...for more stuff

Every morning I pass the sub-division
Full of signs
Protesting a new land-fill sight

On garbage day
the curb is decorated
With glistening yellow and black
Blue-boxes filled to the brim
Trade-marks of success

I saw a picture of hungry children...
but they live in Ecuador
Come to think of it, I need groceries

The micro-wave broke...

Time's are tough...
I guess we'll need to skip the offering-plate today



Hunger is a word for those less deserving
Than we who rub our well-stuffed paunches
God is a sixty or a two inch screen
Depending on what gadget Samsung launches
‘Gaining the world’; an unattainable quest
But has become so imperative that
We have forfeited a day of rest
To worship the fatted calf
Need and greed have become thoroughly confused
‘To consider the lilies’; a contradiction
Matthew five, six and seven; ancient, out-dated views
We are the techno-generation
With micro-waves, dish-washers, instant mashed potatoes
We rush about, gasping for breath
As churches stand empty; for we are much too busy
Gathering things left behind at death


Today's Prompt: Consumerism

In Search of Christmas Day

Twas Christmas Eve and all through town the lights blinked red and green,
Snow was softly falling down where naked worlds had been,
Last minute shoppers rushed on home, discarding final lists,
While others packed up and left town to see dear folk they’d missed

Then, as I gazed on up the street I spied a form alone,
He wandered as if searching for something a long time gone,
He paused to view the festive scenes in windows twinkling bright,
Where ‘Merry Xmas’ signs were strung in honor of this night

Then up the silent street He trod, his steps were sad and slow,
Unlike the rush these walks had known a few short hours ago,
Past Santa’s smiling face he walked, past a twinkling Christmas tree,
Up to a window brightly lit where he could stand and see

Inside each person rushed about dreaming of Christmas day,
Dressing up the turkey or tucking last gifts away,
Dreaming of feasts, laughter and gifts, tables o’er-flowing with food
Trees laden down with presents for all, oh, what a holiday mood

Stockings were hung at the fireplace, everything was complete,
The table was set with cookies and milk for Santa’s special treat,
While folk all sang the Christmas carols and talked of Christmas cheer,
The stranger outside the window turned away and wiped a tear

Tis true, he cried, tis awful truth, I see it all too well,
The reason why they choose to cross out that first syllable,
Tis Merry Xmas, that is sure, the baby and Bethlehem’s star
Are simply vague traditions from the past, so faint and far

They’ve forgotten the ‘Christ’ is what this day is really all about,
That the true meaning is all gone if they choose to cross Him out,
They’ve forgotten, it is Christ, not Santa, that represents Christmas Day,
And in truth it is Merry Xmas if they choose to put him away

He wiped his tears and whispered, I’m sorry but I cannot stay here,
I simply do not feel at home amidst this festive cheer,
I watched him turn with broken heart and slowly walk away,
Twas then I saw the Man was Christ in search of Christmas Day

Janet Martin

Today's Topic: consumerism

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Inadequate Sufficiency

Because you are Lord
You hear beyond
Our humble two-syllable word
How, for the wonder of
Sunsets and seasons
And family and love
How, for earth’s beauty
And the gift of redemption
How, for your endless mercy
And the promise of heaven
All that we can offer you
Is thank-you
Thank-you, thank-you
But, because you are Lord
And you are Love
This inadequate,
Two-syllable word
Is enough

Janet Martin

I was going to stop writing for today, but as I was reflecting
on the things in my immediate scope of vision and in my limited understanding
of Life, as I began touching the things that my toil consists of, as I began to think about how the temporal is bearable because of the Permanent
I tried to express to God how blown away I am, by Him...and all I could think of to say was Thank-you, thank-you...
the same word I use when you hold the door for me
is the same word I use to thank Him for Calvary...
But because He is God it is enough!

This picture captured my heart perfectly...
even as I bow to pray I am the mystified and astounded onlooker!

Gathered Here...

Gathered here…
Longing, love
Victory, defeat
Joy, sorrow
Hope, fear
Gathered here…
Ecstasy, anguish
Right, wrong
Pleasure, pain
The past, the unknown
Gathered here…
Hunger, contentment
Laughter, a sigh
Freedom, bondage
Hello, good-bye
Gathered here…
In a tear


Tha Gathering of Thoughts...

The gathering of notes
Composes heart-stopping music
The gathering of words; a poem
The gathering of cares
Hearts of worry or prayers
The gathering of family; a home
The gathering of memories
Makes quilts, or memoirs
The gathering of harvest; hope
The gathering of raindrops; puddles
The gathering of dirt; a slope
Where autumnal trees are gathered
In a breath-taking display
The gathering of lips; soft kisses
To soothe our misgivings away
The gathering of you in my arms completes me
As fingers and thoughts intertwine
But death, oh death, gathers old and young
To reflect on what was gathered in Time

Janet Martin

Gathering edited re-post

We gather our blooms of purple and gold
Knowing too soon their petals will fold
In fragrant teardrops, its seeds are cast
To spawn the future from the past

We gather in our hearts the music of laughter
Childish delight drifting to twilight’s rafter
Where starlight pins to the close of a day
The awareness that too soon this slips away

We gather our tears of life’s joy and its sorrow
Holding loved ones near; they may be gone tomorrow
We gather breath-moments of invaluable worth
To the vault of our memory; rare treasures of earth


Today's Prompt; gathering

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thankfulness to Him

Walking tonight
Alone in
November’s fading eye
Beneath the scarlet-purple
God has spread against the sky
I sense the transient fabric
Of the twilight closing in
And I’m over-come with thankfulness
To Him

From east to west
The minutes
Stretch; another closing time
Is marked upon an unseen chart
In history’s gated clime
And as the shadows of our folly
And the day are growing dim
I lift my heart in thankfulness
To Him

A smile, a hug
A pat, a shrug
A handshake as we part
A bitty tear within the eye
An aching in the heart
Hello, good-bye, we laugh, we cry
Love is a splendid thing
And so I bow my head tonight
In thankfulness
To Him


I grabbed my camera as I headed to the arena,
once again the day laid out its grandest farewell robes...
I paused to reflect.

The Gift of Blindness...

Love is blind and lovers cannot see
Therefore we fell in love quite easily
But there seems to be something
that isn’t quite right
…could it be, oh my darling,
that we've re-gained our sight?


Cause for Celebration

It should be Christmas morning
The excitement would compare
All the shrieking, giggling, laughing
Clapping, cheering fills the air
But it is still November
What could bring on this display
Of celebration? Ah, yes, buses cancelled
There will be no school today


Yes, the freezing rain has gifted us with our first official ‘snow-day’ of the season.

Travel Poem-lets

Of all the places we chose to explore
Whether mountain or desert or sea
The most beautiful sight was a little front door
Where a wee girl stood waiting for me.

Discarding the distraction of things
The baggage of Time
The weight of grief
You gathered me in your arms
And we traveled to
Undisclosed destinations

With great anticipation
We make lists, pack,
Load up the van
Play the alphabet-letter game
Stop for fries
At the road-side stand
With great anticipation
We re-pack
Load up the van,
Play the alphabet game
Stop for fries at the road-side stand
And count the hours
Until we are home

The tail-lights strung an endless strand
Of ruby Christmas lights
As far as the eye could see
I guess if there’s beauty in a night traffic jam
This is what it would be…



They traveled...
and regaled us with tales
Of mountains and castles
and seas they've sailed
The inns were splendid,
the vistas grand
The ocean green
on silver sand

...we ate apples on a moon-bathed fell
it was almost heaven, but we didn't tell...


Today's poem-a-day prompt: travel

My Dearest Love...

If you double-click the wheel in the center of your mouse on the above link it will open a new tab to the music I wrote this poem to...
This is another attempt at Margo's prompt a week ago, combined with this weeks prompt:

(It is Goya writing the letter)

My Dearest Love,

There’s so much your eyes don’t tell me
I guess that it has been too long
Since I’ve held you close or you held me
As we danced to our song
The pear tree in the orchard
You know, the old gnarly one
Where I first leaned to kiss you
It died last year; they’ve cut it down
I’m staring at your picture
Though I know each line by heart
You are such a lovely creature
God’s out-standing work of art
And tonight I miss you deeply
Maybe it’s the freezing rain
On this cold November evening
That intensifies my pain
But I wish that I could see you
And the past would melt away
And I could start all over
In an unmarred yesterday
But I hear that you are happy
And I will not interfere
Though I fear I’ll ruin your picture
By the kisses of my tears
Darling, if I could I’d tell you
All the things I should have said
Before lonely got the best of you
And drove you from our bed
Outside the wind is rising
I can feel its tempest seep
Into the words I’m writing
And the memories I keep
And oh, I will not ask you
If you’d love me once again
But just that you’d forgive me
I can learn to live in vain
Time is a river flowing
To a broad and ethereal sea
And such will be my mourning
Into vast eternity
For it seems I cannot leave you
Though you’ve taken every trace
Every stitch of your belongings
But the vision of your face
As you’d wait inside the window
With a kiss I chose to spurn
Now it has become my hunger
And the draught for which I yearn
Darling, the fire is dying
And the dark is creeping in
And so soon I will be lying
Where our passion once had been
Before I chose to leave you
For the wolf outside our door
And I did not believe you
When you said you needed more
That you needed love not money
To make our house a home
Oh, I sure do miss you, honey
It’s so quiet here alone
‘If I could do things over’
I’ve said this a thousand times
But you’re still as gone as ever
And the heartless hour chimes
To remind me of the lengthening
Of heartaches misery
And the hollowness of living
When the life is gone from me
Darling, I’m going to close now
The candlelight has died
Darling, I still love you
Goodnight, my love, good-night

Forever Yours

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Ode to the Apple

Apple cakes
Apple tarts,
Apple crumble
Apple crisp
Apple muffins
Apple salads
Apple fritter
Apples dipped
Apple jelly
Apple butter
Apple loaf
With apple tea
Apple grunts
And apple goodie
Fit enough
For royalty
Apple strudel
Apple Danish
Apple stuffing
Apple flan
Apple dumpling
Apple stewed
Apple sauce
Poured from a can
Apple wine
Apple cider
Apple roll-ups
Apple pies
Apple cheese-cake
Apple trifle
Apples for a snow-man’s eyes
Apple Brown-betty
Apple pan-dowdy
Apple torte
And apple pared
Apple cobbler
Apples sliced, or dried
In squares
Apples baked
With cinnamon-sugar
Apples on a Christmas tree
Tell me is there any other
Fruit with such versatility?


I’m sure I have missed some juicy dishes, but this is what I could come up with at the moment. The poem-a-day prompt is to write about a fruit or vegetable and since I am immersed in apples today it seemed insensitive to the dear apple not to sing its praises.
I am in the process of peeling and paring these apples for the freezer, then they are ready to use in any of the previously mentioned goodies.

A Little Thing called Time

There’s a tender sort of sacredness
As earth yields to the Sublime
Rousing in us a keen awareness
Of a little thing called Time
And a deeper sense of future
Stirs the heart to contemplate
Midst the slumbering of nature
What is truly good or great

There’s beauty in the somnolence
And barrenness of earth
As heaven wraps a silver scarf
Across its drowsy girth
And wisdom crowns with splendor now
Its head with hoary frost
The hardened heart is tender now
Relinquishing its boast

There’s a pleading sort of hunger
In the silent aftermath
Hints of toiling, heat and summer
Scattered on earth’s tangled path
As we bow in trite humility
Our footsteps tread the line
Where countless feet have walked before
On a little thing called Time

Janet Martin

I don't know why, but some mornings I wake with a keen awareness of Time
pressing against me. A few hours later, as I drove to a neighboring farm a few miles away for some eggs, its passage seemed to leap from the landscape...

Thanksgiving Praise

Come, let us join together
Our hands in solemn prayer
Autumn escapes its tether
As winter chills the air
The leaf is in its cradle
The harvest in its vault
Its time to come together
Our Maker to exalt

Granny is in her apron
Baby on Papa’s knee
The turkey’s in the oven
And foot-ball on TV
The Hand upon our shoulder
Provides for moment-needs
His love, in boundless portions
Resides in every seed

Come let us join together
In carols of fervent praise
The heartache of our labor
Is held within his gaze
Dinner is on the table
Snowflakes drift on the air
Come, let us join together
In humble, grateful prayer


In Canada we celebrate Thanksgiving in October
p-s-s-s-t, but our hearts return to it with our American friends in November.
This is our dinner in progress a month of the girls took a picture:)
I did not have the permission from my table full of visitors to post their faces, hence, the cropping:(


I’ve been in love with them
Since Gilbert tormented Anne…

Wash, peel, chop, slice
Measure, feel, pour, dice
Soup or cake, its humble stance
Draws eyes and lips into its dance
Orange music, common sanity
Choreographed for you and me
Suiting large hands, or small
Color and harmony
Of the purest kind
A gentle ballet
For the eye and the mind
Carrots orange, joining turnips yellow
Savory, warm, this little fellow
Adds sparkle to a dish where
Potatoes, cabbage, peppers, beans
White, purple, reds, greens
Gather in a bowl
Nourishment for the body and soul
Supper time, rally the troops
M-m-m-m good, love served as vegetable soup


Today's prompt: a fruit or vegetable as the title...

Monday, November 21, 2011

November's Landscape

The wind has gleaned its harvest
And every tree is bare
Save for the golden birch leaf
A-drift on stringent air
The hour-glass of autumn
Has almost run its course
The gale, a moaning phantom
Upon a restless horse

The stillness of November
The silence of the soil
Breathes cold and moody splendor
On earth, stripped of its spoil
While orchard, field and vineyard
Like ghost-towns of the west
Are quiet now and empty
As laborers seek their rest

Departure and arrival
Converge in soundless flight
As autumn becomes winter
In nature’s surge of white
An aching fills our bosoms
In humble thankful prayer
We lift our hearts to heaven
And thank him for His care

Janet Martin

Diamonds in my Hand...


They tell us that time is a flicker so fleeting
That life is a spark on this planet of dirt
Its moments drowned in the fire and ice meeting
Of laughter and living and silence and hurt

I dare not walk through it in mindless oblivion
Trapped twixt a sky-line of duty and rest
I’ll cherish each day as a priceless possession
Each moment a diamond deserving my best


December is Drawing Near

Whenever the trees like still-life pencil-sketches
Spread out their barrenness beneath the pale sun
Whenever the twilight its cold finger stretches
Into the daytime long before it is done
Whenever the wind is a rascally fellow
Lacing with frost the noon-tide’s pallid yellow
Whenever he provokes with his chatter, a tear
Then we know December is almost here

Whenever the passion of autumn’s romance
Whenever the hush after nature’s applause
In a rust-colored ocean, stills the woodlands
Hugging the earth in an intangible pause
Whenever the sparkle in a small child’s eye
Rivals in brilliance to the stars in the sky
Whenever the heart feels a stir of good cheer
Then we know December is drawing near

Whenever the brook dons its slippers of glass
And the meadow its shrug of silvery-white
Whenever the clouds brush tree-tops as they pass
And the moon is an opal to pin back the night
Whenever the crisp air is tinted with pine
And warmth is the color of ruby-red wine
Whenever the diamonds of winter appear
Then we know December is almost here

Janet Martin

Today's Prompt: Whenever...

Did You Find it?

Tell me, did you find it?
…what you were looking for
when you left her on the street-corner
with a suitcase full of broken dreams…

Tell me, did you find it?
…what you were looking for
when you left him at bedtime
without a hug or a story….

Tell me did you find it?
…when you stayed at the office
while the candles melted down
and dinner got cold…

Tell me did you find it?
…when you put her in a nursing home
with promises to visit
when you found the time…

Tell me, did you find it?
...what you were looking for
as you flipped through a hundred channels
behind an invisible wall

Tell me, did you find it?
…what you were looking for
when you turned your back on the Cross
and walked away…


I Know...

Whenever your warm chubby arms
Reach for me in a soft, sleepy hug
I know, you will never out-grow mine

Whenever your blue eyes sparkle
With mischief and love
I know, you will be worth every tear in mine

Whenever your lips smile at the sight of me
Or when they kiss my weary sigh
I know, I have brushed a bit of heaven against mine

Whenever I hear your feet dashing eagerly toward life
Or toward me
I know, why I was given mine


For today's prompt: whenever...

Whenever I try to comprehend...

Whenever I try to comprehend His amazing grace
And how, on Calvary He took my place
Tears of gratitude stream down my face

Whenever I try to comprehend His unending love
And how it flows freely in streams from above
I am assured that it will be enough

Whenever I try to comprehend eternity
Knowing that such is His love for me
I am struck dumb…how can it be?


Whenever I begin to think of you...

Whenever I begin to think of you
Thought softens
To a turquoise-blue
Like an ocean
Whenever, in an unexpected half-breath
You whisper my name
Suddenly I feel the earth
Tremble with emotion

Whenever the silence becomes too still
I feel you inside me
Against my will
And my heart
Whenever the missing of you is too much
I find myself reaching
For the thought of your touch
-Love’s tortured art


Today's prompt: Whenever...

Whenever You Look at Me That Way...

Whenever you look at me that way
My heart starts to race
And I feel a flush creeping
From my toes to my face
I cannot resist you
Your curves and allure
Arouse a rare passion
Fulfilling and pure
And I let you please me
With pleasure and pain
You vex and you tease me
And drive me insane
And I vow to ignore you
But your strength and your guile
As I return to explore you
Stir my frown and my smile
And my firmest endeavor
Melts in your caress
My lips moan never, never
But my heart answers yes
As you unleash within me
An ocean of fears
Of longing, desire
Of laughter and tears
While you simply lie there
Innocent as can be
Completely oblivious
To the tempest in me
But I return to you
Again and again
You beautiful creature…
You little old pen


Today's Prompt: Whenever...

Today's Bargain...

Gray skies a dollar
Sunset, make it four
Bare tree is a bargain
Green tree costs you more
Snow for a nickel
And rain for a dime
Sun for a quarter
Ten dollars for time
The breeze is a bargain
At just fifty cents
The dew in the morning
Will cost you six-pence
A hug must be earned
And don’t you forget
A smile not returned
Will put you in debt
Summer is not
A vacation, you know
I’ll charge by the hour
Or exchange it for snow
The song of the bird
Of the sea or life’s dance
Can only be heard
If you pay in advance
For the time that I gave you
The orange and the red,
The crimson and purple
And the gold as it bled
From each meadow and hillside
In autumn’s grand crown
I charge you a year’s worth
Of all that you own
The flowers in the garden
Or along the old fence
You cannot afford
With your dollars and cents
The sun-rise, the chatter
Of wee boys and girls
Are yours for the price
Of ten diamonds and pearls
The stars and the moon
Are a rare luxury
Sold for the tune
Of two years salary...

…Oh God, you must love us infinitely
For you shower Your wonder upon us for free!


Thank-you God...

Sunday, November 20, 2011

My Undoing...

When you kiss me like that
Oh, but kiss me like that
I feel the chill dissipate
When you hold me like that
Oh but hold me like that
I forget everything that I hate
Tempted and tried,
I will no longer fight you
My total undoing is infinite bliss
I came in here just to tease and to spite you
But you trumped my plan with your upside-down kiss...

Magpie tales

My Best Words

I cannot say them,
My four best words
Until you have spoken three
I cannot say them
Until I have heard
Those three best words spoken to me
Then, my heart over-flows and I say them to you
As I hold you close; 'I love you too'

Janet Martin

I always tell my kids I love them as I kiss them good-night
(well, the younger two:) the older girls, it seems are never home at bed-time;))
they return the words but many times as they hear me going down the stairs they will
say one last time "I love you' and over and over
I am thrilled and humbled anew to be able to say these four best words 'I love you too'

Saturday, November 19, 2011


To fill up the missing of you
Is like trying to fill with water
A hole in the sand…
Sometimes without meaning to
I find myself reaching
With my heart, for your hand

To fill up the missing of you
Is like trying to re-capture
The past and hold it near
Sometimes without meaning to
I reach for your memory
But all I find is a tear