Friday, November 30, 2012

But Never You...

Time has a habit of stealing
Its moments from my grip
Scarcely I touch or feel them
Before silently they slip
And seal or steal their memory
Where Time cannot return
Some I relinquish gladly
For others soft, I yearn…
And some, mercy’s dear kindness
Allows me to forget
Instead of being weighted
Forever with regret
Others, I never ponder
As they slip into the blue
And some are full of wonder
And mystery

I may forget ‘most everything
By the time
This life is through
But never,
Oh, my darling

© Janet Martin

Leave then, November, If You Must

Leave then, leave
If you must
Over a carpet
Of first-snow dust
Over the skyline
To bygones beyond
Over the quiet
Of platinum ponds
Over the slumbering
Wild-bloom in the earth
Over the platoon
Of June’s frozen mirth
Over the farmer
Who smiles as he sleeps
Over the woodland
Where stripped willow weeps
Over the moments
That ceaselessly rush
Over the meadow
Of full moon flush
Leave then, November
Leave if you will
Winter is treading
The sky with its chill

© Janet Martin

A re-vamped version of Over...written for July

Snowfall Seduction

Always your beauty compels me to love you
Soundless, your cadence seduces my will
As hilltop and hollow and hemlock you thrill
From infinite well-springs far, far above you

Always your tumble of gentle persuasion
Draws me toward you in spite of my will
To bolt every shutter and door to your chill
You kiss my window in quiet temptation

And thus I am drawn to your passion so pure
Free-falling diamonds without reservation
I am a child now of foot-loose elation
Heaven unrivaled creates such allure

Always your descent softens my misgiving
Soothing my nurtured premonitions of dread
With carefree abandon you land on my head
Suddenly I am in love, and forgiving

© Janet Martin

Wonderful Wonder

High and holy is the hand
Beneath which mankind bows
Though we may never understand
What perfect love allows

The gate to Eden sealed its bliss
At that first mortal sin
Its curse remains; we bear witness
Of evil’s sorrowing

But love will never be out-done
Though trials come and go
Because of love God sent His Son
To earth so long ago

His high and holy visage wept
To know our hopeless plight
And to the earth He gave His best
On that first Christmas night

And though the evil ages roll
And we cry ‘where is hope?’
His high and holy hands control
Beyond our meager scope

He did not leave us to our guilt
Wallowing helplessly
On Calvary His blood was spilt
For all humanity

And perfect love broke Satan’s curse
We are not doomed for aye
The Master of the universe
Has washed our guilt away

His high and holy hands were pierced
For our iniquity
The Lamb was meek, the Lion fierce
With love that sets us free

On that first Christmas long ago
Christ came from God above
So even now mankind may know
The wonder of His love

© Janet Martin

Come Morning Light

The night is empty
Save for the swoon
Of shadow and silver
Beneath the full moon

I should be dreaming
Tucked warm in my bed
But I choose the high noon
Of midnight instead

Fantasy swirls
Like the steam from my cup
Women become girls
When the moon is up

Infinitely gentle
The hands of the night
And I’ll be a woman
Come morning light

© Janet Martin

November Dirge

Tonight when the twilight
Slips over the day
You will be gone
Your bleak robe of gray
Tucked in beneath
Your discourse spent
The earth a vale
Of abandonment
Withered leaves scuttle
Through alley and park
Wood-smoke spirals
Into deep blue dark
And the grim breeze wanders
Its indifference
Restless with winter’s
Keen imminence

Tonight when lights dim
You will slip from earth’s stage
Beyond subtle scrim
Of Time’s turning page
Flinging perhaps
As you turn to go
Against darkened windows
Your kisses of snow
In unison flicker
Approach and retreat
Coalesce then you’re gone
Time’s bittersweet
Essence lingers
As the blackened sky
Claims you forever,
Good-bye, good-bye

© Janet Martin

From 'Moo' to You

Poetics Aside Prompt: Write a milk poem. This could be about the moo-juice kind of milk. Or it could explore milk metaphorically, as in the expression “milk of human kindness.” Of course it could also be about the act of milking something. And no, it doesn’t have to be nourishing.

Sip it, gulp it
Chocolate, white
Perfect beverage
Day or night
With your cookies
On its own
Teeth and bones
Healthy too
Won’t you have
A glass of ‘moo’?

Good for baby
Kids, grandmas
Favorite drink
for Santa Claus
In the blender
With your fruit
In a pot
Of creamy soup
Cold, nutritious
Splash of silk
Won’t you have
A glass of milk?

© Janet Martin

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Love Poem

I have not loved you
Like this in quite awhile
Darling, let me touch you
Beneath your shy half-smile
Where mere words are not needed
And oft misunderstood
Oh darling, let me love you
Like you wish I would

Darling, I have not loved you
In quite this way before
But when you look at me like this
I want to explore
Your tender, unshaped longing
I see it in your eyes
I feel it in your heart-beat
And hear it in your sighs

Darling, let me love you
Not with grasp of skin on skin
But with a kindred fellowship
Of quiet listening
Where want meets, unrequited
On a snowy afternoon
And love meets every longing
Hush, the kids will be home soon…

© Janet Martin

Christmas Forever and Ever, Amen

They can ban Him from the shopping malls
From politics and schools
They can clamor for free speech
Saying He goes against its rules
While they shout false acclamations
In their efforts to destroy
I simply want to tell them
They can never steal our Joy

They can say it’s just a story
‘Bout an ordinary man
Jesus didn’t come from glory
To fulfill salvation’s plan
And while they pile, compile their lies
Above earth’s highest slope
I simply need to tell them
They can never steal our Hope

I AM is not some common thing
Mortal can over-throw
He cannot be abolished
Just because we say it’s so
I AM abides; His power reigns
Beneath, around, above
And in spite of their vilest claims
They cannot steal His Love

They can’t take Christ from Christmas
Laws, ramparts won’t keep Him out
They cannot banish Jesus Christ
Though they may scream and shout
I AM prevails; no law detains
What His Spirit imparts
Joy, Hope and Love ever remains
In true believers hearts

© Janet Martin

...for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory
Forever and ever,

Matthew 6:13

I was at a lovely Christmas Tea this morning and someone mentioned that a local LARGE shopping mall declined to display the Nativity Scene. After a public out-cry from believer's and the fear of losing business, the Nativity Scene is in place:)
I'm so glad that whether it is there or not, They can never stop Christmas! Happy Holiday will pass, as all things temporal...but NEVER Christmas. Hallelujah!

The out-cry for preservation is not for our satisfaction
We believe, and therefore are compelled to take action
Not with violence, but with love and prayer
for our children, and their children
because we care...

Birth of a Poem

Joy of first snowfall
Prayer breathing hope
Whisper of longing
Summer’s calliope
Thrumming of raindrop
Echo of sigh
Little boy freckles
Youth slipping by
Dance of a season
Sparkle of tears
Kisses of farewell
Flicker of years
Gleam of love’s promise
Dream of a child
Twilight around us
The wind, wooly, wild
Grace of new morning
Surge of the sea
Laughter of children
Baby so wee
Free, phantom fingers
Strumming the corn
These are some things
Whereby a poem is born

© Janet Martin

Poetics Aside Prompt: A 'birth' poem

Preparing For Christmas (an edited re-post)

Poinsettia for the table
Bloom of festivity
Pretty little angel
To grace the Christmas tree
Lights and lovely candles
Lending a gentle glow
In tiny golden circles
Wee choirs in the snow

Cookies, cakes and puddings
In volumes quite obscene
Large and tiny presents
Wrapped in bright red and green
Songs extol the season
And malls the latest rave
Excuses become reason
As dollars become brave

Stress finds brand new victims
And cheer loses its mirth
All in the preparation
Shopping lists extended
Beyond the budget’s creed
Holly, jolly merchants
Disguising greed as need

Christmas Eve descending
We brave the cold perhaps
To find within a chapel
A pew, where we collapse
My house sure looks amazing
The food, a work of art
Wouldn’t it be something
If this had been my heart?


I'm reminding myself early this year:) It's so easy to get caught up in the superficial side of celebrating, even without intending to.

...To Celebrate His Glory

A Heavenly King
Does not need things
To celebrate His glory
He came to earth
In humble birth
To live Love’s greatest story

His perfect love
Desires of us
Not heaps of earthly measure
But from His throne
He knows His own
In hearts filled with His treasure

© Janet Martin

I'm so glad we do not need 'things' to celebrate the birth of Christ!

Poetics Aside Prompt:  Write a birth poem. Write a poem on the experience of giving birth or witnessing birth, or feeling reborn in anyway.

Another Day is Born

Even now it starts to steal
Up from the abstract brink
Where Time upon its obscure reel
Issues another wink

The frozen tree etched flawlessly
On back-drops of Unknown
Stands small in nature’s deity
Stripped of its gracious crown

The hush of deep-night slumbering
Fades now as duty’s feet
In rush of moment-numbering
Hastens into the street

The moon recedes into the west
As from the softened east
Flows mercy’s faithful promises
Compassion’s moment-feast

And where by night our song had died
It rekindles the morn
As out across the country-side
Another day is born

© Janet Martin

Poetics Aside Prompt: Birth Poem.
(I had a little chuckle because I wrote this poem and the one above it before I checked out the prompt. 'That was easy,' I laughed as I saw the topic:)

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Of Disappointment and Perspective

The sting of disappointment
Wanes as we remember
God does not see statistics
Or percentages or numbers
He is not interested
In the boast of our ‘smarts’
But rather, he searches
And knows our hearts

One cannot be
Both proud and wise
There is nothing hidden
From our Maker’s eyes
The boast of the mouth
Reveals many flawed parts
But God knows the truth

The sting of disappointment
Is not quite so sharp
A foolish man looks
In the mirror and forgets
That God sees beyond
The face on his head

© Janet Martin

This Year It's Up to Us

This year, oh God
Please help us
Help us all to see
Beyond our own desires
To our neighbor’s poverty

And this year God, oh help us
To do more than simply say
‘I should do more’
But let this be
Our prayer in every day

…this year God
Oh, help us
To see far beyond our greed
And give us love, enough to care
About our neighbor’s need

And this year God oh let us
Never dare to be excused
Because of things
We want to buy
While a poor child is refused

Help us to remember
To do good
Lord, in Your name
For when it comes to hunger
Rich or poor, it feels the same

© Janet Martin

 If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,"
but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? James 2:16

Of 'Hopeless Semantic' Scribbles...

and yes, I'm a hopeless romantic too;))
(have you done this? I know I have; not with a camera but while I wait on my daughters at the mall)

It was meant to be
my relationship with you
vowels, consonants
woven into
a whimsical wish
or a beautiful dance
of passion, desire
and romance
Of wisdom, surrender
of fantasy
and oh, darling
of endless possibility

 Janet Martin

At the Mercy of the Muse...

Enchanting insanity
Double-edged bliss
Of tormenting misery
Disguised in a kiss
…that kiss leaves me wanting
And hungry for more
So I reach for the taunting
Where mysteries implore
As I grasp for its drenching
I resist, then beseech
The lyrical quenching
Just beyond my reach…

I cannot bear it
And oh, yet I must 
Fling into the air its
Glitter of dust
Beguiling whisper
Driving me mad
But if she should leave me
I would be so sad
For Muse is a soul-mate
With venomous kiss
Muse is a lover
Of bittersweet bliss

© Janet Martin

Alexandria, it really is a doubled-edge brutal bliss:)

The Harrisham Rhyme

 Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt the Harrisham Rhyme.
The Harrisham Rhyme was created by Harrisham Minhas, of Punjab, India. It consists of one six-line rhyming stanza.  In this form, the last letter of the first word of each line becomes the first letter of the first word of the next line.
Rhyme scheme : ababab

God loved me so much, when He gave me you
Darling, you put a smile on my face
Grant it; of love’s struggles, we’ve had a few
Testing love’s tender embrace
Grace and forgiveness are heaven-spilled glue
Essential to keep a marriage in place

© Janet Martin

This is fun…I’ll try another

Duty may lecture and tasks may compile
Yet Muse keeps wheedling her bait
Taunting and teasing, words beg and beguile
Goading my love and my hate
…gentle persuasion and poetry smile
Everything else can wait…

© Janet Martin

…but only for so long! I’m fall-cleaning the living-room today. That must be done before we may set up the tree.

The Truth About Lying

Poetics Aside prompt: Write a poem illuminating how it feels to stand up for what is right in the face of adversity in the workplace.

Honor or money
Which will it be?
For I can fool others
But I can never fool me

The plaque on the wall
Will mock me with truth
If I succeed through a lie
What truth could not do

I want to look myself
Straight in the eye
Not blush because
All I see is a lie

Money can never
Buy out regret
Or clear the conscience
Of its debt

Bills will keep coming
Words slip with ease
But guilt is an albatross
Money cannot appease

To suffer the truth
Or spill pretense?
To keep my job
At honor's expense?

What can we say
To our children and youth
If we choose to lie
Then try to teach truth?

The cost of a lie
Is hidden from view
To keep a lie covered
Requires at least two

God forbid
I should lie so much
That I no longer feel
Reproach's touch

A lie is a shackle
Of misery
But the truth will always
Set you free

Money or sacrifice?
Fortune or trust?
Riches in heaven?
Or treasures of dust?

Guilt or peace?
Honor or shame
What will they remember
When someone speaks my name?

Today we live
Tomorrow we die
Nothing is worth
The price of a lie

Janet Martin

Honey or Vinegar?

They have the power
To build or destroy
They can sweeten the hour
Or rob it of joy
With them we bind closely
Or tear apart
The beautiful fellowships
Of the heart
They may leave us cold
Or deeply stirred
The power we hold
In the form of a word

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Of Muddles and Music...

Dance through the muddle of life
For oh, when the music stops
You’ll wish for the tune of clattering spoon
The music of messes and mops

Sing through the muddle of life
For oh, when the house is still
How oft we will hear the music drift near
The way that a memory will

Laugh through the muddle of life
For oh, life is too short to fret
And we do not care to fill its brief share
With days we would rather forget

Love through the muddle of life
For oh, if we choose to wait
For the perfect time and the perfect rhyme
Well then, it might be too late

© Janet Martin

Sometimes when its ‘teen-age noisy, messy’ I need to remind myself of this! And dance, sing, laugh, love.

November's Farewell Song

What is that song you play tonight?
It rolls across the cobalt eve
Where finger-tips of silver-white
Strum branches aching for their leaves

What is that melody we hear?
Of still and starless diadem
Tolling the waning of a year
In farewell notes of snowflake gem

Who plays this moody minuet
A sudden, surging solitude
Where daylight rests her weary head
As rushing winds are calm, subdued

Where is the Maestro that instructs
This tender, tortured euphony?
It trembles in the midnight arch
And drifts across the frozen lea

What is that song; a humble hymn
Autumn’s postlude, a lullaby
That trickles from the silent scrim
Of deep November-night good-bye

© Janet Martin


 I would love
To learn to love you
The way you
Would love
To be loved

© Janet Martin

Our Full Awakening

We see alas, through darkened glass
But oh, sweet resurrection
As from our knees we look to see
More than hope’s faint reflection

Through dim-lit skies our prayers arise
And make their heavenly journey
But on that day we’ll toss away
This load of mortal worry

Then we will pass through earth’s dark glass
To arms, loving and tender
We’ll lift our eyes to paradise
And heaven’s unmarred splendor

Upon our sight, the Lamb; the Light
Will rend night’s veil forever
And we will be eternally
Where death can never sever

© Janet Martin

Thank-you Sherry, I borrowed your Full Awakening theme.

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

You can purchase this poem performed by Scott Woods here. It is #16 on the CD.

Thank-you Scott!

Silent Night; Celtic Thunder

His Name is Jesus

With veiled eyes we strain to perceive
But as we glimpse Him we believe

Knowing full well from whence He came
And why; redemption could not wait

Hated of men; the Son of God

Holy of Holiest; bore our debt

He conquered the grave; the Son of God
Could not in rock tombs be restrained
To keep Eternal Life contained

Some people say Jesus was ‘just a man’
But He has promised ‘every knee shall bow
God is not mocked; Love’s perfect plan

The Lord is our Keeper


We cannot keep one moment
It passes through our clasp
The unknown becomes known to us
In forms we cannot grasp

The dawn dissolves the darkness
Life’s joy and sorrow feat
Awaits; and only God can see
The unknowns we must meet

We cannot keep from coming
Life’s goodness or its gale
But the God of the mountain-top
Walks with us through the vale

We cannot know His power
Until, in utter need
We realize that we are lost
Without His hand to lead

To keep us in His Keep

© Janet Martin