Love Poem

It tugs at me with restless force
And strength I can’t explain
It fills me with fiery discourse
And bitter-sweetest pain

Vexation of the purest kind
A tempest wild and blue
And yet the thing that soothes my mind
…it is the thought of you

Love is a many splendored bloom
It is both rose and thorn
A gentle fragrance in the room
The heart within me, torn

Thus, I do not resist its pain
Or withhold any pleasure
In every heartbeat you remain
My everlasting treasure

J~

Saving Grace

http://magpiethttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifales.blogspot.com/

The stench is palpable
winter,
fish sandwiches,
coffee and sweat,
but the most over-powering element
in the crowded room
is not the smell
but the heavy pall
of loneliness
and tedium...
The back-to-work whistle,
their saving grace

Janet~

Jesus Christ Forever

Soon we shall lay aside this robe
Of weakness, flesh and want
Where all the sorrows of this globe
Cannot torment nor taunt
Then sickness, need and selfish gain
Return, as we, to dirt
With no more tears of grief or pain
To vex, dismay and hurt

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
This is the way of man
Doomed, as convicts to our lust
But for One greater plan
As Love descended from His throne
A babe in Bethlehem
To give His life and to atone
For all the sins of men

No greater gift will ever be
Than that first Christmas Day
When God gave to rebels as we
His precious Son to slay
But as He looked beyond His loss
It satisfied His favor
For He saw victory in the Cross
As Jesus became Savior

Come; gather ‘round this Christmas Day
Join in the celebration
For the Truth, the Life, the Way
Is free to every nation
Lift up your hearts in praise to Him
For none on earth can sever
Us from the Babe in Bethlehem
Jesus Christ forever

Janet Martin

New Year's Eve Party...for Two;)

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

Vanilla-scented moments, smooth as silk
Melt on Time’s subtle trivet
Dripping over its crusted precipice
Without an inkling of thought
Mission completed
Fodder for genuflection
Air laden with desire
Amorous fantasies
Morphing reality...

...Somewhere a dog barks
As December becomes January
Unnoticed

J~

These Prayers are not Vanilla

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

A light on a precipice high above life
My bark laden down with its cares
But my mission will not succumb to this strife
I’m kept by my dear mother’s prayers

It’s more than a subtle inkling of hope
More than an amorous poem
In foam-crusted tempest my vessel will cope
As my mother’s prayers lead me home

Faithful trivet in life’s testing flame
A glow in the chill of December
In my mind I hear her whisper my name
As I genuflect and remember

Janet Martin

Sunday Wordle words are; 1.December, 2.vanilla, 3.precipice, 4.subtle, 5. Inkling, 6. Bark, 7.crusted, 8.laden, 9.genuflect,10. mission, 11.amorous, 12. trivet

Okay, the title is a stretch, I admit…but I wanted to use vanilla!

I also had not quite used up all my light-house ideas from 'real-toads' this week so this is what decided my theme for the first crack at these words...

The Darkness of Winter

http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com/2011/1http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif2/carry-on-tuesday-134.html

The dark of winter
Creeps over daylight hours
Warm surf is a dream

Darkness of winter
Settles on desolate fields
Thought is a hunter

I find strange comfort
As the darkness of winter
Lures me to firelight


Janet~

Winter Masterpiece

Soundless, clouds of tumbling snowflakes
Deck earth’s passive, calm repose
Like a rush of ghostly children
Crowding from school’s far-flung doors
Silently their shrieking laughter
Clings to fences, field and face
Flood of mirth from heaven’s rafter
Wraps the earth in soft embrace

Maybe it’s the down of angels
Maybe it’s the kiss of God
Ten-thousand-thousand silver spangles
Crown the dull and dreary sod
Intricate, micro-perfection
Tracing lashes, cheeks and lips
Miracles with no direction
Brush earth’s out-stretched finger-tips

Earth, clad in shades of redemption
Resplendent, pristine work of art
Dazzling robe sent down from heaven
Picture of a blood-bought heart
Ten-thousand-thousand crystal whispers
Metaphor of boundless grace
Breathes a calm and holy splendor
Over winter’s master piece

Janet Martin

"Come now, let us reason together," says the LORD. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; Isa. 1:18

Unshakable Proof

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2011/12/friday-picture-prompt-to-lighthouse.html

A Light-house

On a solid Rock

His Word

Won’t lead astray

Eternity will be

Our proof

That His Love

Is The Way

Janet Martin

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. John 14:6

Torturous Tango

You don’t tell me what you’re thinking

And well, I guess I do the same

And I’m beginning to wonder

If this has turned into a game

You ask me how I am doing

I smile and say I’m just fine

I ask you what’s new in your world

And you hand me that worn-out line

“Oh, nothin’”

It’s a sad and a strange kind of two-step

A dull choreography

As words cover up the silence

Expanding between you and me

It’s a painful slow-motion tango

This dance that somehow we’ve begun

As you ask me what I am thinking

And I reply in monotone

“Oh, nothin’”

Empty words are like wall-paper

They simply cover up the truth

As we sit apart together

And speak of the weather, and food

Our eyes plead for a brave, new language

But somehow no one makes the first move

So we dance in the safety of habit

And ask each other what we want to do…

“Oh, nothin’”

Janet

Soul-song

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/12/think-tank-thursday.html


If you listen
Well, I guess that
You won’t hear a thing
It’s another kind
Of language
Caught in whispers
Deep within
And I can feel my heartbeat
In a tender sort of pain
Its timbre, blue and bitter-sweet
Yet, warm as summer rain
I feel it rise within me
In a sweeping melody
As its tenure rushes through me
Like a storm on midnight’s sea
For its whisper is an ocean
Yet its ocean but a sigh
And its lone proof of existence
Is a teardrop in my eye
If you listen closely
Well, you still won’t hear a thing
But I can hear it clearly
In a montage deep within
Its lips upon my memory
And its voice against each breath
Its notes a sudden longing
And an aching in my chest
Not a flicker, not a murmur
Not a single, tiny trace
Of the orchestra within me
But the half-smile on my face

J~