above lines from the book The Wind That Shakes the Barley by James Barke
one poem... or four
Come, take thy pen and press to page the loveliness of ink
And spill upon its open stage some poetry to drink
The dust of days soon settles on Bygone’s grave-stilted loam
But ah, the law of pen to page is ageless in a poem
***
***
If I must choose twixt thee and the perusal of a pen
Methinks I might, against my will, be torn twixt ink and men
For flesh is but a flicker on the quicker side of This
A poem like a love that never dies while Time exists
***
***
Come, take between thy trembling fingers loveliness to be
And spell with ink-fraught quivers thy undying legacy
Then when thou passest from this little riddle-riddled glance
The lover of thy poetry will weep and laugh and dance
***
***
The grave is but the haven for people that are no more
Soon what we touch will scatter like stars on a far-off
shore
Save for the loveliness of ink that seals upon a page
A poem for someone to drink in some far yonder age
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!