The Mind of a Poem

They tell me how I should write them

The rules to rhythm and rhyme

But they fall from my quill

By their own free will

Regardless of meter and time

They tell me how I should form them

Can I shape a river’s fray?

For a poet’s need

Is to sit down and bleed

Let the drops fall where they may

They tell me how I should mold them

But rules never could sway a poem

In the still of the night

As I sit here and write

Words have a mind of their own

© Janet Martin

In Those Moments

In those moments

When I’m tempted

To reach far into the past

And retrieve

A fancied fortune

From its archives, iron-cast

In those moments,

Though I’m tempted

I embrace the melody

Of the sweet

And fleeting present

Flowing into memory

...and though I’m tempted
In those moments

I release its aching grasp

Lest I miss

The precious present

Because I was looking back

Janet~

Today, as I was waiting in a check-out line we o-o-o-h-ed and a-a-a-h-ed over a new-born baby, and for a brief moment I was drenched in longing as I watched the ecstatic first-time mother….next week it will be twenty years since I was a first-time Mother; a mere flash, really. That is why I determine to live in the now!

Horizons

Gently it ripples, softly it is slipping

Green tide adorning earth’s fallow and slope

Out to the lips of cerulean grinning

A perimeter man cannot follow or grope

Where is the skyline that seals our visage?

Earth rushes out to brush azure-blue shores

Man rushes forward but we cannot touch it

Elusive allurement to ethereal doors

Wilderness, frontier, mountain or ocean

Grazes the furrow twixt seeing and faith

Gently it ripples; our thought and emotion

Tracing the edge of its blue, mystic wraith

Gossamer ribbon of infinite measure
We cannot race through its translucent seal
Nor stroll the breadth of its line at our leisure
And yet we know, the horizon is real

...it is, isn't it?

© Janet Martin

Horizons...the proof of faith.

Happy Birthday, Dave

Tonight when you look up to the sky, bro

And think of the years that have flown

Will there be a tear in your eye, bro

As you ponder the course of the sun?

…and tonight when you hear twilight’s sonnet

Quiver in the deepening west

Will you pause to remember life’s losses

Or how you have been richly blessed?

Tonight when you gaze at the stars, bro

Will you feel infinitely small?

And wonder that He who paints skies, bro

Should be mindful of man at all?

Tonight when you contemplate time, bro

Where will your musing dwell?

For you’ve known some up-hill climbs, bro

Disappointment; you know it well…

…but life is a canvas of mystery, bro

And God is a faithful Friend

As this year slips into history, bro

Do you wonder what waits ‘round the bend?

And tonight when you look at the sky, bro

Recalling the years that have passed

Will the only thing you really know

Be this? Life goes by way too fast

© Janet Martin

Happy 47^th Birthday, Dave…from one sky-lover to another…Enjoy!

Here is a teeny glimpse of my sky-shot collection:)

This is the time-frame where I always think of mom and wonder how she did it! My brother Stuart turned 45 on May 28th, Dave turns 47 today, I turn 46 next week and the following week my sister (the oldest child in our family) turns 48...!!! and as you can see in the previous post, Mom is still going strong!...after raising 10 children...after the first four she had 3  girls and then 3 boys!!! I remember we begged her (as if she ordered us from a catalog or something, to PL-E-E-E-ASE have a set of twins to complete our family...didn't happen:)

When things return to 'Normal'...

Mom giving Salome one of her favorite drinks...Ginger-ale. She cannot talk but her body language and gulping say it all!

‘Normal’ does not hover in tomorrow

Nor does it reside in the past

It is not a sweet, coveted hour

Waiting in regions dim and vast

‘Normal’ is not a state or condition

It carries no guarantee

It does not linger on pining or wishing

When this day is history

But ‘normal’ is the bloom we are holding

The moment that meets our gaze

For even now this ‘normal’ is folding

Into planted yesterdays

Who knows the nature of tomorrow’s ‘normal’?

Will its filament be leaden or gold?

And will we wish as we reminisce

For the ‘normal’ that now we hold?

© Janet Martin

How often do we find ourselves thinking 'when things return to normal'?  The other day I used this line when I was talking to my mother...When they brought dear Aunt Salome (in above photo) to their home- the Dr. said it was  'so she could spend her last days with loved ones in a non-hospital environment'. That happened almost four years ago. Salome is thriving beneath tender, loving care in spite of  Down's Syndrome, advanced Alzheimer's and complete physical inability; the DR. says her heart is strong. Salome turns 57 in a few weeks. I mentioned to Mom that 'someday when things return to 'normal', and she asked me to read the quote on her fridge. Its a reminder that 'the 'normals in life are now, for we cannot know what tomorrow's normals may be'. I have been thinking a lot about that...

Salome and her care-giver's are the inspiration in this article...Angels Among Us

You Love Us...

Jason  Gray: Remind Me Who I Am

You who breathed the universe

On vast infinity

Celestial bodies You disperse

In awesome majesty

You who designs fragile bloom

And rides upon the gale

You who conquered mortal doom

And rent the temple’s veil

You love us…

You who sees the sparrow fall

Who walks upon the sea

You, most Holy all in all

Died for humanity

Who paints the glory on the sky

The dawn, the dusk, the dark

Who heeds man’s faintest, humble cry

And gives wee faith its spark

You love us…

You love us, sure, steadfast promise

We cannot comprehend

The fullness of its height and depth

A love that has no end

No time or thing can separate us

From His faithful hand

Through darkest hours He carries us

Though we don’t understand

For He loves us

Forever and ever

Amen

© Janet Martin

neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us
from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.Romans 8:39

Spring's Goddess

 

 

Sunday Wordle #58: blur, cocoon, tongue, brittle, burnished, flinty, scrape, rough, barnacles, austere, drenched, chalk

The flinty glare of winter recedes to a blur

The rough, brittle limb and austere, burnished fields

Are drenched in the ravishing textures of Her

As in countless shades Her abundance she yields

The cocoon-bud breaks open in Her verdant embrace

Barnacles bloom beneath Her florid brush

She is a tongue of emerald grace

Scraping winter’s chalk-lines from hills fair and lush

Earth is a ball-room of aureate bliss

Softly we touch the robe of this queen

For beauty and blossom unfurls in her kiss

She is spring’s goddess and her name is Green

© Janet Martin

The Sunday Whirl~

Scarlet-echoed Breath

Image Source: freedom.portwallpaper.com

Oh, have we savored it today?

Inhaled its glorious air

Or have we paused a bit to pray

And thank God for His care?

Perhaps we’ve thought of those who fell

To look against the sky

With fading breath; the cannon’s knell

Their victory lullaby

Have we, as through our lungs it pours

In scarlet-echoed breath

Have we remembered blood-bathed shores

Of horror, pain and death

And are we filled with gratitude

To stand among the free

Inhaling this most priceless gift

The air of liberty

...and have we bowed in earnest prayer

to plead with God above

that we do not hold lightly here

this freedom that we have

© Janet Martin

Love's Sacred Knot

The tie that binds

Oh, sacred thread

Woven by Holy God

As vows unite

Two hearts to one

And ties love’s hallowed knot

The tie that binds

No hand or pen

Its tenure can annul

Oh, precious cord

Secured by He

Who gives the knot its pull

The tie that binds

Love’s cherished bond

Of truth and faithfulness

A shackle

Not of cumbrous weight

But trust and tenderness

The tie that binds

Its filament

No human hand can sever

The tie that binds

Husband and wife

As God joins them together

© Janet Martin

The Ties that Bind...Don Williams

Non-optional Juxtaposition

We are teachers;

We are students

Someone is watching

when we least expect

Action is speech

It tests our fluent

creation derived

of alphabet

Action is merely

a thought’s reflection

Thought is formed

by what we absorb

We teach while we learn

A juxtaposition

of far-reaching impact

we cannot ignore

We are teachers;

and we are students

No one escapes

this practical truth

We are never too old

to cease our learning

yet we become teachers

in tender youth

…for there is always

somebody following

observing the choices

we thoughtlessly make

Action speaks volumes

Love and compassion

are beautiful legacies

we cannot fake

Action is merely

a thought’s reflection

The wise man endeavors

to keep this in mind

for when we don’t expect it

somebody is watching

and thought is the medium

in which character is defined

We entertain

either angels or demons

in thought’s mystic cell

where only God can see

But sooner or later

as thought becomes action

Truth is revealed

In clarity

© Janet Martin

Mary's comment bears repeating!

...So true, Janet. We probably teach many in our lives when we don't even realize we are teaching! And many who are our teachers don't realize their role for us either. And then, of course, there is the Great Teacher who teaches the greatest lessons of all.