Thursday, February 28, 2013

Making Doughnuts and Memories

I wonder, he says
As he dangles the dough
Heavily in the air
Letting it land ungracefully
Like a selfish prayer,
I wonder if I promised to give him
Pizza for life,
For free
If Dad would allow me to be a baker
Instead of what I was going to be

…and I turn to gaze at this not-quite-a-man child
With a sudden wave of yearning
Life lies before him, a wide-open field
Ripe with lure of learning
Smiling and coaxing the dreamer to dream
Merrily splashing in life’s endless stream
Not yet restrained by the tempered truth
That experience withholds from tender youth

I turn off the doom-and-gloom news story
Saying, ‘son, you can be anything you want to be’

© Janet Martin

I told Emily that I'm trying to see the beauty of dough floating on grease...the pay-off was in the moans and sighs of bliss as they tasted the fruit of their of them said they didn't know anything could taste this good!:) Victoria reminded me that treats are those things you don't do very often...that's what makes it a treat!

Doughnut Recipe

Wednesday, February 27, 2013



I tried to find another word
To tell you how I feel
One not so common, often heard
Yet still honest and real
I tried to find a word to spell
The oceans in my heart
And hurricanes within the knell
Of parting’s priceless art

But when I weighed your soft-half grin
The barracks where you let me in
The half-breath longing in your sigh
Wonder that dwarfs time’s little sky
The second look and second mile
Forgiveness uttered in a smile
Something so old yet ever new
Compelling us to remain true

Then, when I tried to compensate
With lesser words something so great
I failed for one cannot improve
The fathoms spelled in this word: Love

© Janet Martin

There is no other way
to properly say,
'I love you'.

Anew...Thoughts of a Mother


Stunned anew
By the staggering wonder
And boundless proportions of love
She could not relinquish them
But for the knowing
That Love intercedes from above

Awed anew
By the tenure of heart-strings
Tender, yet potent and strong
Binding the love
Of mother’s and children
Wherever life leads them along

Buoyed anew
By the breath of a whisper
Brushing the ache in her soul
Love reassures
With gentle reminder
That He is in faithful control

© Janet Martin

I cannot imagine the 'letting go' as mother's send their sons/daughters to war...just now as my daughter said, 'bye mom, I'm leaving for work now' the breath went out of me in sudden wonder-rush of love.

Mercy-song...a Rubáiyát

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt  The Rubáiyát

The music of life’s fervent flow
Is bittersweet; now swift, now slow
The rise and fall of centuries
Surging, to melt like streams of snow

Hail, moment-tear, why do you rush
To tune the sphere of midnight’s hush?
I pause to hear your subtle sigh
Sparkle on daybreak’s dew-drenched brush

The virgin gleam of morning-spire
Throbs, a requiem of new desire
Replenishing our flagging vim
In cadences from heaven’s choir

Ah, agony of moment-mirth
Of shadows spilling on dusk’s girth
Where soon the dawn provokes the dark
And splashes grace across the earth

We lift our cups up, brave and high
To taste life’s honey from the sky
For soon its dripping melody
Will sweep in languid lullaby

The music of life’s second chance
Inspires us to dream and dance
Forsaking yesterday’s lament
To revel in hope’s moment-glance

Mercy and grace do not keep score
Kissing our failures through Time’s door
They tune their harps with renewed zest
And beckon us to sing once more

© Janet Martin

Snow Queen

Pastel silk scarves
Dangle somewhere
In dressing-rooms aloft
I wonder,
Does she pine to wear
Its ribbons, smooth and soft?

Her frozen crystal-
Gilded sash
Presses against her skin
It seems that she
Cannot unveil
Her colors sealed within

She cannot choose
A petal-gown
Of lavender and green
For now she bears
The weighted crown
Reserved for her; Snow Queen

© Janet Martin

Buses are cancelled. It looks as though we are going to attempt doughnut-making today. I promised Matthew and Victoria that on the next snow-day we will make home-made donuts. Matthew was astonished one day last week when I told him it is possible to make donuts. He wants to see how it works, so wish us luck. I have not deep-fried dough in years!

Of Hallmarks and Honor

No one but God beholds the field
Where our keen wars are fought
The clash of wrong and right concealed
On battlegrounds of thought

No fellow-soldier cheers us on
Though skirmishes are rough
Our battle is beheld by One
And yet, that is enough

The aftermath of mind-fought wars
Tenders its casualties
Into the crypt of Time before
Immortal victories

No pennants of fair fame applaud
Our fetes fervid and grand
Thought-valor is beheld by God
Our trophy in His hand

For none but He beholds the plain
Where conflicts wage and groan
As demon-enemies are slain
And armies overthrown

The medal of thought-honor gleams
Not from podium or shelf
But as our kind Captain esteems
The battle-ground of self

© Janet Martin

Thank-you Cynthia, for the Old Rugged Cross coaster.

Like Sand-castles

You slip away
Like sand-castles
Beneath my skin
Falling pray
To the surge
Of an ocean

But now and then
In sudden
I find the place
Where once you
Used to

The rippling rush
Sweeping Time’s
Can never wash
Your whisper
From my


February Night Storm

He is not playful tonight; darkness reels
His venom pelts fiercely, glazing windowpanes
The silver-tipped reed of full-moon appeal
Shudders beneath his tempestuous refrains
No corner is spared of his seething rage
Growling he ravages, savage and grim
Like a hungry beast released from his cage
He lunges, snarling at the stark, naked limb
Spilling his scathing ice-shard repertoire
Enhancing the comfort of kind, kindled fire

Fly, little bird, to your hole in the tree
Hop, little bunny to thickets and brush
We will not challenge his cold mutiny
Stripping the fell of its calm, full-moon hush
Rock-a-bye girlie and sleep little man
This cold scavenger cannot reach your cot
Pull up those covers as snug as you can
Dream of sand-castles and for-get-me-not
For somewhere beneath earth’s frozen facade
Trembles the surge of spring’s bloom-dappled sod

Then let him vent, howling outside the door
Splattering dregs of his fury, snow-spun
Though now they humor his bold, burlesque roar
Soon they will melt in the kiss of the sun
Rattle the sashes and whimpering trees
Spew frozen threats from your blue-puckered mouth
Oh, harbinger of fragrant, buxom breeze
You cannot conquer the streams from the south
Somewhere the bondage of spring’s petal-fray
Will softly unravel and nudge you away

© Janet Martin

The windows are glazed in his temperamental dally between snow and rain.
It will be snow by morning. I can sleep now:) I wrote this while I was waiting for my daughter to get home from work. She arrived, (midnight) very happy to be here, the roads are heavy with the snow that fell before the rain/snow mix. The fire crackles, the wood-pile is replenished, we are warm and have so much to be thankful for. I pray everyone is warm, safe and dry tonight.


Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Friend or Foe

If you look to pin-point my faults and flaws
You will find quite a few, I fear
But if you are looking my way because
You want a friend, I am here


The critical eye is greedy and cruel
Preying on weakness and dirt
He fills his plate with envy and hate
And a scoop of gossip for dessert


Love knows we are not perfect
Yet is willing to suffer a bit
To get to the flower, it suffers our thorns
And love’s us in spite of it


Life has a myriad of things it will send
But none takes the place of a really good friend


A really good friend is life’s most cherished gift   
When burdens grow heavy friends give us a lift
They know without asking what they need to do
Life’s burdens are lighter when carried by two


I do not ask for wealth of gold
But simply this, a hand to hold
And when I come to this life’s end
I’d like to know I was a friend

© Janet Martin

Morning Prayer

Lord, let me look
Not into the morrow
Straining to suffer
A shadow of naught
Sufficient this day
Is its joy and sorrow
Life’s benevolence
Tenderly wrought

Lord, let me seek
Not tomorrow’s treasure
Of provision, strength
But oh Lord, I pray
Open my eyes
To love’s moment-measure
And render to me
What I need today

Lord, let me trust
Not buckling beneath
Burdens of worry
Trouble and despair
But Lord, let me journey
One foot then the other
Content in the moment
Because You are there

© Janet Martin

It's a Beautiful Life

The ebbing and flowing of night-morning brings
Mistrals of change wielding Time’s subtle knife
Carving the familiar with new-normal things
But still, it’s a beautiful life

Heart-fringes grow ragged, tenderly tuned
To ripples disguised in life’s surface-borne strife
Keening awareness of moment-drops spooned
Into the cup of a beautiful life

Babies reach, rush to an unformed allure
Soon son or daughter becomes husband, wife
Discovering in time love’s fierce tug-of-war
Shaping this beautiful life

Spring, summer, autumn to winter once more
Moments spill potent and ruthless and rife
Life-song of heart-throbs bleeding on vague shores
Silver-soft echo of a beautiful life

The rising and falling of Time’s gavel brings
Heart-wrenching changes beneath its grim knife
But still in the discourse of its sufferings
Oh, it’s a beautiful life

© Janet Martin

 Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it. Prov. 12:25

Let's cover this day
Layer over layer
With the rarest refrains ever heard
Let's spill on its gray
The tender-sweet showers
Of beautiful, kind, loving words

On some days we need to look a little harder, but its there; The Beauty.

Dreaming of Spring

And now we lean to that invisible scrim
Whispering thoughts of sweet sun-flavored things
Fingering visions of pastel-petal limb
As we begin dreaming of spring

Crocus, hyacinth, tulip, daffodil
Dapple our daydreams with glad offering
Arabesque zephyrs infuse the chilled rill
As we begin dreaming of spring

Wee girls in sun dresses and boys in bare feet
Stir in our smiles tender reminiscing
As swift-surging hours silent circuits repeat
And we begin dreaming of spring

Dawn spills its puddles of pink on the snow
Soon we will hear its music splashing
In rain-drop eight-notes where now grim gales blow
As we begin dreaming of spring

© Janet Martin

We are under another big-storm watch...

Monday, February 25, 2013

On Life, Legacies , Writing and Reckoning

The chapters that by day we write
Are soon over-taken by night
Against the crimson of the west
Its toil and spoil is laid to rest
Yet in the cascade of an hour
We plant the seed of weed or flower

The by and by of which we speak
Brushes its kiss upon our cheek
Perceptions of its distant day
Hover, a soft half-breath away
Where choice and freedom bears its yield
As fruits of our loves are revealed

Beneath the discourse of the sun
Another little day is done
Its ebb and flowing melody
Draws us toward eternity
And we do well to keep in mind
The legacy we leave behind

The fulcrum of this little life
Though riddled now with blood-shed strife
Leads us into unfathomed deeps
Where this ephemeral body sleeps
The soul is not restrained by sod
But journeys on to meet with God

© Janet Martin

While we were admiring the sunset, the traffic suddenly came to an abrupt halt! we realized how swiftly one can be here, then gone through the sunset to the Great Beyond. Thankfully, there were no bent bumpers and everyone was wearing their seat-belts.

Three Sonnets on Love

How nearly, dearly, joy and grief align
Mystic alloy of pain and ecstasy
A synchronized employment, pure, divine
Love; comfort and heart-wrenching agony
The droids of lust will never know its kiss
Infatuation cannot grasp its role
Of fingertips evoking static-bliss
While rending deep the crypts of heart and soul
And oft, we soldiers of languid lament
Are startled by its potent catalyst
Candid compulsion of unrivaled strength
A hurricane born from the purple mist
Gently and graciously patience extols
Love’s miracle of fingertips and souls


Love, wherefore art thou free to all and yet
We choose to spurn your pearl for painted dirt?
Self is master of ‘forgive but not forget’
Clinging to shards of misgiving and hurt
Love; nothing exceeds your hierarchy
Though lesser ranks may seek to dethrone you
You never fail; we fail you brazenly
But you remain faultless to see us through
The echelons of mortal-might deflate
Our vengeful scrimmages of trodden dust
Grow weary; the craftsmen of cruel hate
Will never satisfy the lords of lust
But Love, in spite of promises of pain
Inspires us to love and love again


Love’s tender truth drifts on Time’s moment-tide
Evoking thoughts of wordless wonderment
The windswept centuries all have relied
On thee, oh Love of God-breathed filament
As tarnished evidences testify
That love and only love will never fail
And yet its quiet witness we defy
To test anew its gracious, Holy Grail
Oh Love, you whisper while the demons scream
And comfort even in your mourning hour
Your song, a soft and bittersweet requiem
Blood-notes of rare, redeeming pow’r
Oh love, how keen the kindness you extol
Redemption’s kiss reaches within the soul

© Janet Martin

 Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?

Kahlil Gibran  on Joy and Sorrow

The Law of Love

Sometimes it’s easy to bear and decipher
Love’s laws perplexing the mind
But sometimes it’s hard, oh, so hard to remember
That love suffers long, and is kind

That nature of mortal is not geared to hunger
Or search for discomforts to find
The nature of love is unlike any other
For love suffers long and is kind

We do not love for selfish indulgence
Such love is sensual and blind
True love forgives and does not keep a record
Yes, love suffers long and is kind

The recompense of its mind-boggling mystery
Is not casually learned or defined
But repeats this truth , as proven through history
Love suffers long and is kind

© Janet Martin

Unbroken (a Wedding Poem)

How long this oath? We do not know
When death this troth shall sever
From this day forth, but this we know
In life it is forever

What God has joined no flesh can part
Or draw its bonds asunder
Husband and wife, joined hand and heart
Pure, immaculate wonder

For better, worse, in sickness, health
To reverence, honor, cherish
To keep these vows above all else
And never let love perish

For love is life’s most sacred trust
Its charge, faithful and tender
To always put the other first
Proving its holy splendor

From this day forth and for all life
This pledge will be a token
Of love forever; husband, wife
Until death parts, unbroken

© Janet Martin

February Fantasies

It would be fine to wander and squander
A dew-drenched, daisy-strewn dazzling new day
And fritter the glitter of freshly-strung moments
Into the nonchalant meadows of May

It would be grand to guilt-freely amble
Through giddy violet-for-get-me-not dell
Heedless of hours wielding a grim gavel
Over the vagrant and fragrant spring swell

It would be splendid to soak in sun-puddles
Teased by the zephyr of sassy-sweet mouth
Splashed with potion wrought by April’s ocean
Dancing with vagabond winds from the south

It would be sweet to languish in bare feet
Appeasing and pleasing thought’s wanderlust
With treasure of pleasure in middle-May measure
Teasing our traipsing through daydreams of dust

It would be thrilling if moments were willing
To pause in the spilling of green-golden-blue flow
To dangle in spangles of spring-ribbon tangles
Or float on the froth of pink-apple-bloom snow

Somewhere the splendor of buds, buxom, tender
Startles the drifter on his footloose way
We cannot hurry winter’s fretting flurry
Every February must have its day

© Janet Martin

Travail of a Poem...a sonnet


When your hour comes there’s an ache surreal
Where thought cannot quell the urge you beseech
Grasping at whispers just beyond my reach
I close my eyes, leaning to your appeal
As unformed longing groans, moans for release
Borne on a surge of pleading mystery
Pain, pleasure and purpose blend intimately
Stoking a measure of formless increase
For your invocation of throbbing travail
Rushes in torrents through bulwarks of flesh
Testing heart-levees, boldly you enmesh
Your ethereal murmurs beneath skin’s frail veil
I tremble for, pray, who am I to spell
The poem to shape your relentless swell?

Somewhere within wanton fathoms converge
The startling summons of consonants lash
Nature of mortal and immortal clash
Yet who would rally to stifle the surge
Of word that is willing to be much more
And hope that is yearning to spill in rhyme?
I cannot argue with trifles like Time
Where oceans of unwoven lines implore
Man is not born to appease his own want
Or drift like a bateau without port or goal
Though lackadaisical havens may taunt
We are the vessels that harbor a soul
Earnestly then, we bend into the gale
Trusting the Hand on our helm to prevail

The fruit of our toil is more dear and sweet
When we have endured its labor and fear
What is life’s spoil but a day or a year?
A pulse of moments that never repeat
Humbly we bow, not because we are weak
But because in weakness Love intercedes
Succoring mortal and immortal needs
The pen would fall like a tear on the cheek
Save for the comfort that somewhere, somehow
Far down the age its extolment remains
To smile to the one who thirsts for the rains
Found in the ink-drops that earnestly flow
Shaping the whispers of comfort and Home
Wrapped in the tender-sweet arms of a poem

© Janet Martin

It's no cannot fight the urge of a poem:)

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Winter Thaw (an edited re-post)

No gold complexion
warms the table
Only gray
 Its modest pall
cloaks the dawn
 as wind-song
falls away
 and through staid trees
tear- melodies
splatter the face of earth  
as she swallows 
drab snow-flake seas
in her gracious mouth
Gripping winds recoil and ponder
This dashing, splashing
gray array
surging from earth's south-east corner
perplexing winter's 
Stiff foray


Friday, February 22, 2013

Planting Miracles


Inspired by the Image Source here; Check it out to see a whole lot of Miracles!

We do not see
The breadth of its reaches
Or witness the fullness
Of immortal sod
But each deed of love
Is a seed in its garden
The bud of a miracle
Tended by God

© Janet Martin

Of Wishes...


I wish I could spill on paper
All those thoughts I cannot tell
In one tiny little lifetime
Full of love and longing’s swell

I wish I could gather on it
All those pieces of my heart
Shattered, scattered on lost moments
In fragmented, broken art

I wish I could find the ocean
That has claimed those quiet tears
Of love’s bittersweet emotion
Shed in secret through life’s years

I wish I could show you, darling
Love's rare intangible fray
What a little leap of lifetime
Never tells me how to say

© Janet Martin

Twilight Rhapsody


Beneath his moody murmur and caress
Softly she comes surrendering her lilt
Of azure glance and golden sun-flecked dress
To lie where cobalt shadow-song is spilt
All day he waited as her overture
Wove mystery to history; but now
He drapes his crushing longing over her
And smooths life’s ruthless laugh-lines from her brow
Out past the fields where tree-tops touch the sky
The vesper croons its burnished lullaby

The wheel from which her gossamer is spun
Replenishes its thread with somber hues
The filament of moments in the sun
Deepens to shrouds of midnight-tinted blues
Yet, he does not excuse his solemn trance
But softly wraps her in his muted hush
He gathers her into a gentle dance
Kissing her wantonness; horizons blush
As on the fringe of yesterday and dawn
A molten glow erupts; then it is gone

Beneath the vault where love and life unfold
She lays aside her tattered, tear-stained gown
Relinquishing her being to his hold
How tenderly he watches her lie down
The hour of her gallantries subside
Within the candor of his raw embrace
Somewhere the fringe of earth and sky collide
But darkness spills its sigh across her face
And now against his brawny chest she sleeps
He strums the air as star-song fills the deeps

© Janet Martin

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Those 'What-if' Bullies

The solitude of quiet thought
Can be a sweet and tender bliss
Unless we stray and tread the path
Of monster-shaped, ruthless ‘what-ifs’

The what-ifs’ lunge and jeer and leer
Leaping from unexpected dips
A bully-whisper in our ear
Quenching the laughter on our lips

Oh, we do well to guard our thought
Forbidding it to wander where
These demons wait to mutilate
Our hope with visions of despair

And in thought’s quiet solitude
When what-ifs threaten their torment
How sweet to know that God is good
We walk in moments He has sent

The what-ifs that will come to be
Must first pass through His hands above
To dwell in ‘what-if’ misery
Is thus to doubt His faithful love

The solitude of quiet thought
Can be a sweet, tranquil retreat
If we surrender what is not
And place our ‘what-ifs’ at Love’s feet

© Janet Martin

 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isa. 41:10

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." Deut. 31:6

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
    and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him,
    and he will make your paths straight. Prov. 3: 5-6

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

The In-betweens

Darling, when I am missing you
And there is nothing I can do
To push the minutes from the hour
Or rush the bud to spill its flow’r
Or pluck from far cloud-studded sea
The wonderment of what will be
Then darling, I embrace the sheen
Of moments in the in-between

Moments and hours disappear
How soon they shape another year
The echo of its memories
Soft ripples on thought’s phantom seas
I kiss your whisper in the air
Climbing time’s ephemeral stair
To what will be from what has been
Riveting these hours in between

And in this in between I know
That soon its transient scene, like snow
Will melt into the distant blue
So darling, when I’m missing you
I do not haste the brooding clock
Or chase life’s moments down the walk
But tenderly embrace the keen
And fleeting space of  'in between'

© Janet Martin