Saturday, January 4, 2014


I cannot run away, it seems
From thought to thought and dream to dreams
They swirl and twirl and intertwine
Vexatious, intangible vine
Until I set its tendrils free
In little threads of poetry

Summer, winter, zephyr and gale
Muse-metered murmur, raw regale
Of seeker, slayer, somber-sweet
Plethora of passions compete
Until I set its fires free
In picture-frames of poetry

I cannot run away, it seems
From parting’s ever-testing streams
Soon the enticement of romance
Returns its dividends of chance
And where a sad, old tear would be
I seal its grief in poetry

© Janet Martin


  1. You do Janet, You do it all so well.
    We are wayfarers passing by your poetry
    once smitten always returning
    You know how the thing with gaping voids of the human kind - they remain agape!
    I never really leave you, sometimes it maybe awhile but come i do for sure
    for more
    Cheers Janet !!!

  2. Here in poetry we are free and captive to ourselves.

    Beautiful alliteration and rhyme, much to warm to be sealed in ice.

  3. :)Thank-you TUG and Grace. I appreciate your inspiring words. TUG, our ice-castles have been transformed to a winter wonderland. We're off to church now but I hope to get out with a camera later...


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