The Sunday Whirl...on Monday

The shards of fall are strewn about

Lining bronze banks along the creek

And winter gales brood from the south

Against stripped landscapes pallid cheek

The flame of autumn’s afterglow

Beneath Time’s tender, tangent kiss

Is mute; as stars in ice and snow

Bedazzle stricken emptiness

Moment to moment is betrothed

It will deliver in due time

A life; New Year is softly clothed

In ambiance of hope sublime

The aftermath of seasons bleed

Out to the point of no return

But tears of joy and sorrow knead

Life-lessons we are bound to learn

So pop the top and pour some cheer

Refurbish dim and dormant dream

For soon, too soon another year

Will drift to naught in Time’s swift stream

© Janet Martin

The Sunday Whirl

The Wonders of Love

There is no pride in love

No selfish vanity

To find its pure fulfillment

We must seek humility

There is no fear in love

And as it freely pours

It never empties but instead

Increases more and more

There is no guilt in love

But its vile tempter, lust

Will sully faultless purity

And rob the heart of trust

There is no greed in love

Nor self-sought indulgence

Yet Love succors our deepest need

In wondrous recompense

There is no loss in love

Its call, our greatest debt

The more we give to fellowman

The more and more we get

© Janet Martin

Humility needs no disguises

Pride screams to claim our view

What we think of ourselves is seen

By what we say and do

***

Love and lust
Are like oil and vinegar
They do not mix

***

Lust spawns gaping hunger
It is greedy and weak-willed
While love satisfies our longing
In its giving, we are fulfilled

***

Lust is a sign of weakness
Love is proof of strength

***

Squandering Second Thoughts

 

As softly I wander back over the year

I squander sweet second thoughts on you, dearest dear

Time’s subtle purloining seals each moment-gasp

Yet it cannot steal the fond memories I clasp

Here where the cold wind moans blue in the dark

I held your hand as we strolled through the park

I hold you still though the summer has fled

And all that remains is its song in my head

Down by the woodlot stark skeletal limbs

Reach for the echo of verdant midnight hymns

But all they can muster of their fallen grace

Are winter’s stiff bluster and a tear on my face

The gathering shadow cannot snuff your sigh

Though eve snuffs the daylight and dawn snuffs the night

And though Time’s purloining seals years in its clutch

It cannot steal the thought of you from my touch

© Janet Martin

This Year...

 

 Poetic Bloomings is eager to hear of our New Years Resolutions

(short version)

Help me Lord

To seek from above

Life’s lone measure of worth

Lord, teach me to love

(longer version)

This year I want to learn to love

Love fully, the moment unfolding from

Providence above

And to love you

Not coldly, from the outside in

But simply, in spite of myriad flaws

Because we are fellow-men

I want to slow down

And listen to the words

You do not dare to tell

But speak in hungry silences

I want to learn to listen well

Oh, I want to learn to love

Before you or I slip from this swell

This year I want to learn to love

…Love bears all things

In spite of us

It does not envy, boast

Or seek selfishly

Lord, teach me to love

Others, as you have loved me

Lord, teach me this four-letter word

With heart wide open

With vision un-blurred by

By greedy groping

What good is anything, its measure to prove

If I have never

Learned to love?

© Janet Martin

Why Me, Lord?

Ode to the Year

Farewell; though you were barren but a year ago

You have borne your ordinance of victory and woe

Into the urn of no return I place your memory

There is no future in the past of nevermore will be

Farewell; the passion I perceived when first I touched your gown

Has fallen where the autumn trees have laid their burnished crown

You teased into fruition my clenched dreams of yesterday

While, softly with your other hand you stole its gleam away

Farewell; your fringe is fading, cold, gold pool against the west

Your virgin garment splattered with my crass, clumsy caress

Though fain I still would kiss your feet, you slip into the blue

The pain of love is bittersweet; where is the proof of you?

Farewell; upon the wind you ride, obscure and potent force

While we await with baited hope your forerunners discourse

Within past’s permanence you seal your four-season embrace

And never turn to kiss the farewell teardrops from my face

Farewell; oh tender gift of grace from life's Giver above
Into bygones vast ethereal place is but yesterday's love
And from compassion's bowers hallowed mercy floods the sphere
As He imparts from hope's ramparts, to us, another year

© Janet Martin

Monumental...Moment

(It was so still this morning I could almost hear it...)

Open your eyes

Do you see it?

Slipping from frost-gilded bough

Monumental breath-fortune

Here in the little ‘now’

Open your hand

Do you feel it?

No? Yet it’s there somehow

Sealing within it life’s offering

Held in the little’ now’

Open your ears

Do you hear it?

Dripping from hope-haloed prow?

Notes in a love-song of moments

Shaped in the little now

Open your mouth

Do you taste it?

Bittersweet afterglow

Reaching, receiving, releasing

All in the little ‘now’

© Janet Martin

I know…I’ve spoken of ‘the little now’ before, but

It is the only thing of worth we hold

Yet we often over-look it somehow

Because it seems so very small

We simply call it ‘now’.

Home Sweet Home

Beyond those doors and windows

Within those humble walls

Are childhood’s precious shadows

And memory-tender halls

Life’s brick and mortar dwelling

If shared in unity

Is Love’s soft-glimpsed fore-telling

Of what Heaven will be

Lord, in this little journey

Wherever we may roam

May our hearts forever be

Love’s gracious home sweet home

Janet Martin~ 

We all travel this time of year, don't we?

even if simply in thought,

back to what once was...

Above is a picture of my childhood home

Hand in Hand

 

Hand in hand with Him I go

Though fear and grief and ill wind blow

His promises will lead me home

Hand in hand, Dear Lord, I come

Hand in hand, He leads me on

Through earth’s dark night to Heaven’s dawn

His rod and staff conquers this dust

So hand in hand, in Him I trust

Hand in hand, Lord, hold me near

Lest I become burdened with fear

Remind me of to Whom I cling

Hand in hand with Christ the King

© Janet Martin

Mit Jesus (a Pennsylvania Dutch Poem of Hope)

Mit Jesus bin ich imma frei

Ich brauch ke sarriah maucha

Vile Eahea is imma neagsht debai

Fa mie node tsu bedrauchta

Mit Jesus is ma goot fasargged

Eahea liebed uns vie ke anna

Un laft mit uns bis unsa Arb

In vaeg net liecht fashtanna

Mit Jesus, hut ma huffening

De veld is net unsa himmel

Des is da shtrove un ielauding

Tsu Sie fa imma un imma

© Janet Martin

Translation...  With Jesus

With Jesus we are always free

We do not need to fear or worry

Because He is always near

Our need to behold

With Jesus we are well taken care of

He loves us like no other

And walks with us to our Inheritance

In ways not easily understood

With Jesus we have hope

This world is not our heaven

This is our strife and invitation

To His forever and ever

Here We Are...

 

Here we are, keen with fresh hope

As old and new converge

The old, sealed in yesteryear’s grope

The new, a gleaming surge

Here we are; in spite of life

We resolve once again

To fight anew this little strife

Of gladness, sadness, pain

Here we are; the portal where

We stood one year ago

Now blemished with our scattered care

A scarred and marred plateau

Here we are; with nothing much

But to resolve once more

To laugh, love, learn beneath life’s touch

To God’s forevermore

© Janet Martin

As I read this (please consider reading it if you want a worthwhile smile yet much to seriously ponder and remember) I found myself thinking...yes, here we are once again. I don't really 'do' New Year's Resolutions and yet it seems this is always a portal where we ponder life thus far and resolve to do better and not give up.

Happy New Year, all!

Of Corridors to Eternity

Time is so much more

Than a jesting of moments

Grazing earth’s shore

Time, for all it can ever be

Is but the corridor

To eternity

Time is a gift whereby we procure

The hour we make our calling

And election sure

Time, a transient vapor door

Leading us into

Forevermore

© Janet Martin

Almost...a Sonnet

Almost I feel you like it used to be

Perched on the brink of both future and past

Watching the twilight sweep over the lea

Shadows beginning to lower their masts

Almost I hear the murmur of the waves

Rushing, receding, holding, letting go

Pushing life’s moments to aerial graves

Without depleting their subaqueous flow

Almost I taste your whisper on my lips

Trembling as when I welcomed your first touch

Almost I reach with wanton fingertips

Into the sky for things hands cannot clutch

Almost I feel what once surely had been

Save for the miles and the years in between

Striving for self is grossest vanity

Time is insistent, thus I must turn loose

The wants God never intended for me

Lest they become an invisible noose

Here on the edge of morrow’s yesterday

I dare not covet what no longer is

The heart is both hunter and tenuous prey

I do not plead for one last farewell kiss

Yet, no one will suffer for me, your good-bye

Or weep wrenching tears of beautiful love

And now as twilight devours the sky

You slip from me like a hand from a glove

Forgive me, dear Lord, I am surely a fool

Beggar and king must adhere to Time’s rule

Darling, almost I feel the warmth of your sigh

Soft on my skin where time renders its mark

Somewhere the sea, like a lover’s lullaby

Croons its endearments to us through the dark

Parting is beautiful sorrow, they say

I’d choose a humbler delight in your arms

Almost I cannot relinquish this day

Though I have danced, reveling in its charms

It simply expands the missing of you

As history claims its vulnerable gasp

Almost, I cannot bear this shade of blue

Prying your silver swan-song from my grasp

Almost I hear you cajoling its sheen

Save for the ocean of moments between

J~

Poetic Bloomings invites us to share our favorite in-form form to close out the year.
Mine is the Sonnet.

The Ways of a Poem...(to poets the wide world over)

Your British eyes smile, blue

Across the sea

Poems scale mile-barriers

Effortlessly

I hear your whisper

From the turquoise south

Your poem melts like summer

In December's mouth

Even in the dark

Thought cannot lose its way

Poems drifts like a spark

To ports far, far away

Ah, Spanish matador

Red capes cannot shield

The thrust of a poem

In its passion revealed

Muse, like tumbleweed

North, south, east or west

Roams ‘cross the prairie-land

Climbs Mount Everest

She traverses oceans

Dallies from the moon

While dangling a poem

From the tip of her swoon

There is no rampart

A poem cannot climb

Such is the wonder

Of rhythm and rhyme

British eyes smile, blue

Like coming home

Thought shapes her beauty

Into a poem

© Janet Martin

Snow-fall Sonnets

The winter-dawn scene is white-sheen serene

No hint of tempests that tortured night’s girth

Lambasting hollow and tall evergreen

Sweeping stray petals of fall from the earth

Now children wake with a shriek of delight

At last old man winter has ceased to snore

Flinging his blankets of snow-powder white

Into the sky with a sulk-bulky roar

As gray-umber scruff of pasture and bluff

Boast gleaming robes of gilded royalty

Glistening diamonds bedazzle the cuff

Where pauper’s ragged tatters used to be

Elements shudder then softly release

To hill and gutter sweet heavenly peace

***

What is so rare is a fine winter day?

Though June doth possess verdant emerald gown

December polishes November gray

Decking youth’s folly with wisdom’s white crown

Over the stubble and trouble-wrought past

Grace is bestowed, not in pewter-pitch ash

But tumbling and twirling, old man winter’s blast

Blankets dull yards in silver-studded sash

Rousing within us the slumbering child

Urging us to suavely brave the sharp chill

Dashing through unblemished field, free and wild

Pausing to touch the air, stringent and still

For sure as sure as the summer doth pass

Soon this day too is a drop in time’s glass

***

Firesides beckon; orange-leaping romance

Snickers and smolders; its mystic tenure

Bestowing to poets and dreamers a dance

Of flickering flame in amber allure

Outside the artist, most often despised

Paints masterpieces into the dark hush

Though oft he is cursed, berated, chastised

Still he extols Heaven’s Hand ‘neath His brush

This is the season of sleds, skates and books

Tender hiatus from dirt-dreary toil

This is the reason for cozy house-nooks

Mini vacations from work-weary spoil

Gather your loved ones and let the winds blow

This is the season; let it snow, let it snow

© Janet Martin

p-s-s-t. I'll be honest,

this is for those who did get dumped on yesterday. Once again, we are on the fringe...

Like Smoke Rings...

 

Where once the hour chimed her in

From portals mystic-gray

Now soon it tolls her out again

To sleep earth’s time away

How fleet the feet of moments dance

We fall beneath their spell

Mesmerized by the romance

Of impending farewell

How swift the splurge of seasons merge

With predecessors spent

How soon the swoon of verdant June

Is stricken, stripped and bent

How quick the truth shunned in our youth

Leaves its halo of gray

The clock chimes clear, another year

Like smoke-rings, drifts away

© Janet Martin

Wild Wind Song

 

When the night falls down

In a dark velvet gown

Crowning earth’s borders

East, west, north and south

I hear the croon

Of a lost afternoon

I taste the salt

Of its tear in my mouth

When the wind moans blue

On midnight’s avenue

Phantom scavenger

Fearless and bold

I hear the lay

Of a sweet summer day

Warm in my memory

Yet to my touch, cold

When the wee house shutters

‘neath dark threats it utters

And love-stitched blankets

Cannot snuff its bluff

I hear the wail

Of a life growing pale

Heavy with things

Which are never enough

When dark night is deep

And the earth is asleep

Save for stark tree-tops

Tormented and tossed

I hear a moan

Echo sad and alone

A wayfarer searching

For years she has lost

© Janet~

Tonight the house shivers and shakes

as the harsh winter wind

howls and rakes 

its talons of steel across the dark

chill and wroth

shrouding the earth in a silver-white cloth...

Overtures of Spring

Moments burst, then twirl and swirl

Unfurling hours through the air

Rapid exhale, wild enigma

Painting portraits, raw and rare

Though grim gale hurls snow-storm spasms

Its insistence cannot quench

Dormant daydreams in the garden

And the bud that tree limbs clench

Soon will stir a ruby rustle

And what seemed a hopeless thing

Spills into nature’s spacious parlor

In grand overtures of Spring

© Janet Martin

Sunday Whirl ;

Tendersweet Tangle

 

What is it about you, my beautiful sweet?

Dashing through childhood on fantasy’s feet

Scattering pieces of my heart in the path

Of good-night, good-morning kiss aftermath

 Why are you in such an eager-free rush

Racing to the border of pink-gold dawn blush?

Alas, but the beckoning of life’s darling dreams

Is stronger than my murmured pathos, it seems

Where is it that you must so hurriedly race?

Pushing ever forward to that mystical place

Of sweeter tomorrows drenched with honeyed charm

While I stoop to trace your footprint still warm

What is it about you, my beautiful sweet?

I cannot dissuade the dreamer in your feet

Nor would I, for love holds even as it lets go

For my heart-strings are tangled in its afterglow

© Janet Martin

My oldest daughter had to work yesterday. 

She was gone before anyone was up 

and I missed her as we opened our gifts 

because I realized what once was is past, and what is, is slipping through my fingers 

even as I reach to touch the treasure 

of a moment...  

Beautiful Rush

 

You think nothing of it

…slipping between the cold air

And my lips

Your half-grin ignoring

My finger-tips

Reaching to touch

Your touch, softly

Such is the rush

Of a

Memory

J~

Beautiful Legacy...

 

If ever the day should come, my love

When I can no longer spell

In tender, whispered endearments

Words you love to hear me tell

If ever the pen should fall, my love

Forever to the crypt

Of memories and what once was

Before the hour slipped

Its chill fingers beneath the clasp

Of warm and vibrant touch

To snuff the laughter and the dance

From days we love so much

…and if ever the time should come, my love

That we reach the stepping-stone

From this trial-and-error-slip-and-stumble

To the great Beyond

I should covet but this;

That life and love’s sweet memory

Will comfort you and that its kiss

Will be a beautiful legacy

...and if the silence should echo with years

I pray its music will be grand

…not filled with sad, regretful tears

And cruel, harsh reprimand

Oh, when the things that are, my love

Will then no longer be

I pray that we have left behind

A beautiful legacy

© Janet Martin

My daughter works at a Long-term Care Facility. She cares for an 89 yr. old lady who has a form of dementia and almost every day she hears the same words…

I love you honey…

Do you know what love is?

Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?

Will you tell him what I used to tell mine?

'I love you for one-hundred thousand reasons

but most of all I love you because you’re mine

and because you are you…'

When Emily told me this I had to think…

If ever we grow to the point where we say the same things over and over, is this not a Beautiful Legacy?

Thank-you for This...

Tim at
Vanyieck's Last Stand  nominated me for this award! Thank-you so much. I would be honored to pass it along to a few deserving bloggers.

As per the rules of accepting this award,

I must share seven facts about myself:

1. I enjoy life's simple gifts of nature above any 'thing'
2.I enjoy photographing these daily miracles
3. I am a homebody to a fault.
4. I love health and fitness
5. Of earthly blessings being a mother and wife is a gift I  thank God for daily.
6.Of earthly blessing, being a mother and wife is a gift that teaches and humbles me daily
7.I am a daughter, a sibling of nine , and saved by grace

Rule #2, pass along the award...

I would love to nominate;

Sue at Reflections of God's Glory
 Her posts are filled with wisdom and God's grace.

Kateri at Dandelion Haven
Kateri has an eye that frames His handiwork in gorgeous photos!
Every post is beautiful and inspiring.

Ella at Ella's Edge
Ella shares a myried of wonderful talent and love on her blog.
She is a special lady!

Jennifer at Poet Laundry
Jennifer's loving spirit shines in her beautiful poetic talent.

Please be sure to visit these blogs and let them know you stopped by.

 

 

If I Should Love...

When we love

Perfectly

It will be

Heaven

I should wish to love

This way

Even now

To love fully

Then let go

To rejoice completely

In another’s success

And wish them nothing

But happiness

I would love to love

The way I should

And never blush

Should thought rush

From under this hood

Of flesh and blood disguise

And my eyes

Would be the window

To unspoken word

I should love to think

It would be all right

If every thought was heard

And no grudge or spite

Would blemish the light

That ought to shine

From the divine

And it could

If I would

Love like I should…

© Janet Martin

Pondering Her

 

My dear, her lissome hem is sweeping

The far-faint, blue wooded rill

I hear her brewing farewell weeping

When the night is deep and still

For she no more than we, my darling

Can suppress her moment-tear

A trickling flow through sundry ages

And we simply call her Year

How grateful, gladly we embrace her

Arms flung wide, we draw her in

Though in brusque autumn’s knell we chase her

Now she comes; Virile, virgin

Across a sleek and seamless threshold

She alights, whilst hope and fear

Mingles wildly; yet we greet her

As we meet her; the New Year

We cannot unclenched her fingers

To reveal her mystery

She does not run; nor does she linger

On the road to history

But she cradles in her bearing

All those things which we hold dear

Joy and sorrow, potent, searing

Yet we simply call her Year

We pause in limbo; past and future

Presses passion to our lips

Yet, all we cherish, fondle, nurture

Soon to her dominion slips

As we ponder our position

…Who imbues her formless sphere

We bow in humble recognition

Gift of grace is she; New Year

My dear, the hour like a flower

Soon relinquishes her bloom

And no one contains the power

To re-live one afternoon

So we treasure the kind measure

Of her tender moment-tear

As she slips through our whispers

…yet we simply call her Year

© Janet Martin

I cannot BELIEVE how swiftly she comes, but to leave

I have learned it is possible to celebrate and grieve

Simultaneously

I touch with my thought those I cannot hold

For she steals as she gives, moments seal as they roll

Continuously

And sometimes as I ponder her perpetual splendor

And sometimes as I miss those sealed in her kiss

And sometimes as tear-tender, I remember

All I can do,

Is whisper

Thank-you

For He blesses graciously and mercifully

To we, undeservedly

J~