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

And

You…

I may forget ‘most everything

By the time

This life is through

But never,

Oh, my darling

Never

Ever

You…

© 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

Fortifying

Teeth and bones

Satisfying

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

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,

Amen

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

For 'goodwill, peace on earth'

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?

Janet~

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:)

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

For He sees our hearts

The sting of disappointment

Is not quite so sharp

If we ‘trust in the Lord

With all our heart’

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

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

Love-wish

 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

He put on flesh; the Son of God

With veiled eyes we strain to perceive

Such love; we cannot understand

But as we glimpse Him we believe

Laid in a manger; the Son of God

Born in a town of low estate

Knowing full well from whence He came

And why; redemption could not wait

Hated of men; the Son of God

Befriended sinners, revived the dead

There was nothing we desired of Him

He, like a sheep to the slaughter was led

Nailed to a cross; the Son of God

Became sin who knew no sin

Holy of Holiest; bore our debt

As all our guilt was laid on him

He conquered the grave; the Son of God

Could not in rock tombs be restrained

It is not possible for death

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

Extends hope’s day of Grace…for now

Janet Martin~

His Name is Jesus

O, Holy Night- Celine Dion