Friday, August 31, 2012

Across the Bridge...

Image Source:

Someday across the Bridge I know, it's hard to believe
We will sing to Jesus with the likes of Jim Reeves
and other faithful greats who have crossed on to Heaven
As we praise the Power and the Glory forever. Amen


Across the Bridge  Jim Reeves

The Vexation of the Unknown...

We cannot write away longing or desire
Nor diminish space by the hex of poetry
But we can languish in a syllable’s fire
And revel in the vexing of what still might be


Deftly the Daylight Disappears...

Deftly, the daylight disappears
A picture of time’s hastening years
The gushing of a still-life sea
Rushing toward eternity

We are the vessel on its swell
Where is the shore? No one can tell
But someday we shall plainly see
What now remains a mystery

This is the promise in God’s word
As twilight spills across earth’s lea
But only until eternity…


The Beautiful Bittersweet

The wind reclines hazily on the blue hill
Autumn pines restlessly beyond the dark rill
Shadows sprawl languidly, laden with musk
While August scrawls farewell tears into the dusk
I ponder the fulcrum of time’s forward flow
Wondering what to cling to; what to let go

Summer’s retreating stirs corn-tassel seas
Daylight's depleting stirs soft memories
Passion and pleasure and pain coalesce
As gossamer measure dispels Augusts’ tress
Where whispers of umber and bronze-gilded brush
Serenade summer’s unrelenting rush

Tomorrow is a memory waiting to be born
Ripe opportunity wakens with the morn
Weep not for the flower that falls wilted; wasted
But savor the hour spilling to be tasted
What once was is over; what will be a-waits
Like an impatient lover beyond shuttered gates

Cherish each moment but then let it go
This is love’s tormenting triumph and woe
August relinquishes its final embrace
As September steps eagerly into its place
Bravely we reach while still waving so-long
This is love’s bittersweet, beautiful song

© Janet Martin

Stuff or Love

There will never be enough ‘stuff’
to satisfy the lover
of Things

Darling, the mere thought of you
is enough; for the satisfaction
it brings

The chaser of the wind seeks ‘stuff’
Darling, to love you, even in my mind
is enough


Belated Sunday Whirl

In rose dusk a fence of etched trees lace
the painted air; nature’s charcoal pencil-trace
against a canvas where brief moments link
to form a chain of laughter, sorrow, strife
of forgiving and being forgiven; this is life

Now darkness obliterates dusk’s sky-line art
The hour is empty but for the aching of my heart
clasping life’s essentials within its grope
for the operator of Time’s wheel cannot steal
fond memories; life’s recipe for hope

© Janet Martin

As we meet on Blog-street

It’s enough to know, in the ebb and flow
On Time’s blue circle dot
That you exist within the mist
Of Somewhere; and my thought

No sound of feet upon blog-street
And yet, how sure the touch
As we are smitten with thought written
Of life and love and such

Through word we share delight, despair
The tear and triumph ocean
As we embrace through cyber-space
And bravely-spelled emotion

It’s enough to know in this moment-flow
Of meeting-parting measure
The bond we share through mutual air
In heart-and-soul-spilled treasure

© Janet Martin

...another triquatrain.

The Rush of Blue

Blue Moon...I took this photo tonight. It reminded me of April before the corn was planted)...thanks to some much needed rain at a crucial point the corn is looking okay through this area.

With hungry haste the moments chased
Another day to naught
Across the dell the shadows fell
Like you against my thought

The melody of wind-tossed tree
The rush of blue descending
Beneath the swoon of harvest moon
Lauded the daylight’s ending

The rush of blue in thoughts of you
And echoes clear; unbidden
Collaborate to resonate
In tempests wild and hidden

I cannot quell the raging swell
Of moment-melded power
Nor can I grasp its whispered gasp
As twilight steals the hour

Across the shore storm-waters pour
To dissipate asunder
Across the heart moments impart
A rush of wanton wonder

Beneath my skin somewhere within
A tender tumult urges
In rush of blue as thoughts of you
Across the heart-line surges


Poetic Bloomings invites us to try the triquatrain form.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Some Thursday Thoughts

Salvation through
Is not only believing
It is fully receiving
His promise of

When we are His Own
On this time-beaten path
But we have His love
Beneath, above

We cannot fully live
Until we fully die
To self


God, teach me to grow
In my surrender
So my life may glow

We are shaped
Not by what we believe
But by Whom we believe in


 Abide in me, oh precious Light
In my blindness, be my Sight


Come what may
We can cope
If we cling to


Ah, Little Quill, What Mind's You Fill

Ah, little quill within the hand
A simple ink and metal strand
Moving to shape a thought’s command
In curves of pensive heeding
What vast and vexing oceans swell
As scribes and poets seek to spell
The tides they cannot seal nor quell
Of passion’s pulses bleeding

We dredge the deeps of love and lust
Trolling the steeps of trembling trust
To scrawl these ink-gleanings of dust
In line and curve creation
Where ranks of gathered centuries
Unveil the rush of tear-drenched seas
With nothing more than ink-curve pleas
To shape a thought’s formation

Ah, little quill within our grip
You spill mind-tempests from your tip
Folly and wisdom smoothly slip
Upon blank paper-stages
Take heed, oh thought that moves the veil
Oh storm that fills a sacred grail
As we unleash our ink-exhale
Upon Time’s humble pages

© Janet Martin

Of Having and Holding

It is not so much
The longing for your touch
Or your whisper in my thought
Of all that is not
That drives me mad

It’s the ache of knowing
Life’s having and holding
Has no intention of slowing
Or returning again
What once we had


There are no 'second firsts'.
Enjoy the first you are in
for this day will never pass again:) dance in the day God brought ya'

Good Morning!
It's good to see you here!
Hope your day is a good one:)

It's Always Been This Way

It’s always been this way
Life’s tick by tock hastening
From cradle to grave
…and beyond

The sun rises in the east
Strolling its charted course
Man rises to feast on the ephemeral force
…of moments

Transcendent Ocean rolling
Over time’s temporal sands
To an abyss of mystery
…in His hands

It’s always been this way
A subtle, silvery sever
Of time slipping away
…to forever

© Janet Martin

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Living Prayer

Meek Obsessions

Oh God, awake in me today
A new and keen obsession
To serve you in the subtle sway
Of moments as they hasten

You seek, not glamorous success
Nor well-worded intention
But humble hearts of thankfulness
And meek, faithful submission

God, let my employment to you
Be more than long lip-measure
Teach me to seek the will of you
In love’s unfaltering treasure

The dust that shapes ephemeral skin
May form mortal assumption
But God, you know the heart within
Its passion and corruption

Oh God, awake in me today
A new and holy fire
To serve you in each smallest way
With reverent desire

© Janet Martin

Stirred by these words I read this morning...

Gentle Dancer

His approach is soft and tender
She succumbs without a fight
Her warm gold-flecked gaze surrenders
To the deep blue eyes of night

There is comfort in his bearing
And a coolness in his stride
As he steps across the clearing
In the burnished eventide

He does not dictate her answer
She is drawn to his caress
As the night, a gentle dancer
Wraps the day in tenderness

© Janet Martin


Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Someday, as the Night-sounds Fall

Some day as I sit on my porch to recall
Life, thus far and the haste of it all
I know I will hear, as the night-sounds fall
The tap-tap-tap of the basket-ball

When there is nothing else to do
Out he goes to shoot ‘a few’
An hour passes in no time at all
To the tap-tap-tap of the basket-ball

Oft, in the course of my hum-drum day
I hear him thrumming the hour away
As the likes of Carmelo Anthony enthrall
Him, in the tap-tap-tapping of the basket-ball
A childhood passes in no time at all
To the tap-tap-tap of the basket-ball

© Janet Martin

Matthew’s first word was ‘ba’ (ball)

At three years old he loved ‘dribbling’.

A Simple Exhortation

There is an exhortation
We should not take for-granted
To bloom with exaltation
Wherever we’re planted

© Janet Martin

A few years ago a friend gave me portulaca flowers.
Now, every year they re-seed and come up wherever the seeds fall,
blooming vibrantly when many other flowers have begun to fade…

Reveling in Life's Blissful Ordinaries

As long as there are
Laundry-line lullabies
Ever-green framed skies
Freshly-baked pies
And barefoot brothers
As long as
Soft pink remains
For girlies and geraniums
And the kettle softly hums
A tea-song for mothers
As long as sun-flowers beam
Where gardeners dream
Beneath mellow-gold gleam
Of August warm glee
Then this world, in spite of gloom
And its projected doom
Is not half as woebegone
As it could be

© Janet Martin

Sonnet of Hope

As surely as the night falls comes the dawn
As surely as the Unknown IS the One
Frail witnesses are we of His great love
And mortal tongue can never fully tell
The wonders of His hand beneath, above
Guarding the gates to Heaven and to hell
His grace does not extend this wretched scope
For our self-destruction, but for Hope


As surely as the autumn comes the spring
We cannot bargain with the Hand of Time
The orchestra of nature’s offering
Is ordered not by law, but the Sublime
As we repeat, footfall upon foot-fall
The agonies and ecstasies of man
Progress is simply history’s recall
Of moment-breaths since time and life began
How futile is the gasp of human race
If we ignore its only Hope; His grace


As surely as the night falls comes the Dawn
Twilight is but the swansong of an hour
The bud of youth unfolds; a fragrant yawn
Before it renders to the earth its flow’r
We chase the ambient discourse of our thought
To realize what each of us must learn
The only thing of value we have got
Is Now; we tread a path of no return
But still the Hand remains that formed this scope
Of day and night; of death and life and Hope

© Janet Martin

My thoughts and prayers are with a friend facing some heavy 'unknowns' .
Can you pray on her behalf ?
God fills in the blanks of what I am unable to share.

Love you, G.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Irrefutable Proof

Love speaks
A universal language
And though hugs and kisses are nice
It declares
Its truest passion
In one word;

© Janet Martin

What we make and take time for proves where our loves lie…

Aren’t you glad He took time for us?

 Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer,
    and though the Lord makes his life an offering for sin,
he will see his offspring and prolong his days,
    and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand. 
 After he has suffered,
    he will see the light of life and be satisfied;
by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many,
    and he will bear their iniquities.

Walnut-leaf Harbingers

Premature stragglers
Scatter on green piazza
Prelude to gold rush

© Janet Martin

Our walnut trees are the last to leaf and the first to shed...

I can always count on those golden tears to mingle with my own 'heart-tears':)

Of Imminent Departure

Press the curves of your ethereal body
closely to me; there is urgency
trembling beneath the sultry serenity
of imminent departure as we
put on our best brave faces
to preserve moments sealed in our hearts.

Climb over me, align the fire
in your tortured gaze with my heartbeat,
Quite suddenly your lips
blazing with passion and desire
suffocates the dreamer’s bliss
in the quiver of imminent departure

I must inhale the scent of you
in our last dance; heady musk
filling my veins; eyes of bachelor-button blue,
Your neck is warm, your breath sun-sweet intoxication
highlighting the agony of waiting
in the gathering dusk of imminent departure

A ball of crumpled wishes
lodges achingly in my throat
barring all the perfect words
that I would tell, before you go
across the pale blue hill; and so we stand
as I beg you to press closer

Seal your promise of return within my hand,
Not with summer's roses, for shortly
they too deck the sand in bleak shadow-breaths; oh, come closer
so I may hear; not the foot-fall of imminent departure
but the landing of your tear
upon my cheek, in this farewell hour 


Dear Summer,

Farewells are not forever, love
and if the grace of God above
extends Time's sands another year
then we shall meet again, my dear

Come darling, the sun-drenched ballroom floor is ours...

For some reason I feel like summer ends at the end of the kid's summer vacation instead of at the end of September.


The previous train of thought sparked another

God, let me not squander the vapor-present
In pining or regret for the past, over, done
Nor dwell in futile fear for the Future
As it becomes present,
…then it is gone

© Janet Martin

Moments fall like the rain outside my window,
the tangible present slips to reflection…
but, as I walk toward the reflection
it disappears.


Behind us slumbers our Past,
A mind-scape only we can see
Before us gleams the Future, vast
A vale of trembling mystery
Beneath us slips the Present, brief
A smooth and subtle under-tow
Above us, from infinity
Is He who ordains Mercy’s flow

© Janet Martin

Oh Gentle Hand (A Sonnet)

Oh gentle hand that snuffs the summer bloom
Tarry awhile upon far yonder hill
For I must languish in the crickets trill
And wander through earth’s muted living-room
Let me persuade you to withdraw your clasp
And linger in a moment far away
The swell of seasons claims another day
Oh gentle hand, restrain your eager grasp
Why must you haste to glean the florid yield
Of purple loose-strife, aster, golden rod?
Cling to the solemn recompense concealed
Where drifting leaf wanders earth’s vapid sod
Oh gentle hand, pause over summer’s field
And revel in the handiwork of God


Oh gentle hand of subtle thievery
Nature responds beneath your tender touch
Relinquishing its verdure to your clutch
Be-taken by your ardent chivalry
But when your soft seduction is complete
And you have stripped fair summer of her gown
Disguising her demise with flaming crown
Before it falls to gutter, hedge-row, street
Oh gentle hand, resist a little more
The urge to spill its crimson aftermath
Oh gentle hand, I beg, plead and implore
Extend the silver sand and blue sky path
For I can sense the creaking of a door
And the foreboding of a chill-wind wrath

© Janet Martin

Storms Never Last Waylon Jennings

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Of Pinnacles and Passion

Are you disappointed?
He gazed tenderly
Into her eyes
Where first they met
Last night
In a dream

Are you disappointed?
He thought she had not heard
So her arms wrapped
Around his neck
And she replied
Without a word



Not a ‘Sunday-morning-pew-thing’
Not an hour, two or three
But may each day I am living
Be my worship unto Thee

Not a portion of recitals
Nor vain scripts of piety
But in spirit true and humble
May my daily worship be

© Janet Martin

Amazing Grace by Celtic Thunder

My Perfect Boast

Oh, let me boast of nothing else
But Jesus and His glory
For there is nothing in myself
Of worth, but His love’s story

Nothing of merit can I bring
To offer of my service
But what is granted by a King
Through love and mercy gracious

Oh, let me boast of nothing else
But Jesus and His glory
Who sacrificed His life for us
In love’s astounding story

© Janet Martin

Intangible Obsessions

The intangible obsessions of the mind
Grasp at the tenure of time’s thinning air
There is nothing in its filament we find
To soothe our anguish, longing or despair

To want is but to waste our granted lot
A trampling of life’s bloom into the dust
How bitter is the gall of selfish thought
As we consume the draught of tainted lust

To pant and chase the fathoms of the wind
Is but to clutch the fabric of a sigh
The intangible obsessions of the mind
Are boundless as the reaches of the sky

To open wide the eye within our thought
To see what grace and love and life have lent
Will stir us to desire what we’ve got
And fill the void of futile discontent

© Janet Martin

I Pray

When my heart is heavy as I plead for the lost
Indifferent or ignorant of denial’s great cost
When unfathomed reaches of eternity weigh
Against love’s gripping sorrow
I pray
And I pray
Oh, God let your grace remain yet one more day

When guilty fear seeks to persuade me of lies
Insisting that His blood cannot pay sin’s full price
When doubt and oppression in dark oceans sway
I cry out to His Spirit as
I pray
And I pray
Oh God let Your grace carry me all the way

When I seem too small for the load I must bear
As I stumble and fall beneath love’s weight of care
When hope, help and Heaven seem far, far away
From earth’s vale of living
I pray
And I pray
Oh God, for Your grace is sufficient each day

© Janet Martin