She had to admit
this one had her stuck
she's not paraskevidekatriaphobic
she just doesn't believe in 'luck'
***
Finally she worked up the nerve to call...
Buying the biggest ficus tree she could find
she carried it up two flights of stairs
to your apartment.
The lady across the hall called 'hey'
Don't you know? He moved...
Yesterday.
***
Jack-pot...not
We all waited
Breath baited
This was the moment
It was all about!
The winner is...
Lights flicker and fizz...
and just like that
the power went out
***
There's no hope in a rabbit's foot
or in number sevens
and there's no such thing as luck...
I looked down as I spoke
Wishing I wasn't broke...
...hey, look, I found a buck!
***
Lucky for you
I have a bad memory
***
I remember too late
what I forget...
Now, I wish I could forget
What I hate to remember...
***
The money tree
in our back-yard
musta' got frost-bitten
and bitten hard
***
For better of worse
Be it blessed or cursed
For the rest of your life
I am your wife
If it weren't for bad luck
We'd have no luck, you say
Well babe, I plan to make you
the happiest unlucky man today
***
Janet~
Poetics Aside Prompt: unlucky...
Friday, April 13, 2012
Something about The Quiet
As tomorrow becomes today
Aches in the touch
Of thought and such
As moments slip away
…and in its ephemeral being
The warmth of you lingers near
As somewhere in my mind
Joy and sorrow align
In nothing but the hint of a tear
Something about the quiet
Of dark pouring to emptiness
Stirs in my thought
Things better forgot
But taunt now in sudden caress
…as today slips into history
And present disappears round its bend
I feel the embrace
Of a tear I can’t trace
The quiet tonight is my friend
© Janet Martin
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Something about that Box...
Something about that box
Of mortar and wood
…of lights beckoning
Warm
Makes me feel understood
And welcome
And though I quite delight
In the still of this night
And being wrapped in blue
I am drawn
To that box
Of mortar and wood
Because inside that box
Life is good
So as I come
And gaze for a moment
At its humble form
I thank the One
Who gives us glimpses
Of heaven
In boxes of mortar and wood
Called…
… Home
© Janet Martin
Poetics aside Prompt: Something...
Something...edited re-post
Something tells me not everything
Is quite as it appears
Something in me is whispering
From outer atmosphere
And I can feel something stirring the air
Intangible mystery
Something is always waiting somewhere
I wonder what it could be
Something is urging me to arise
As daylight creeps over the brink
Something brushes the star-dusted skies
With whispers of coral and pink
Something quivers deep in my soul
Surging as waves on the sea
Something over which I have no control
I wonder what it could be
Something inspires me to get up
and welcome another day
Something replenishes my empty cup
While night hours meter away
Something draws me from yesterday’s pain
To welcome this measure of sod
Something beckons me to do it again
Something…or Someone…maybe God?
Is quite as it appears
Something in me is whispering
From outer atmosphere
And I can feel something stirring the air
Intangible mystery
Something is always waiting somewhere
I wonder what it could be
Something is urging me to arise
As daylight creeps over the brink
Something brushes the star-dusted skies
With whispers of coral and pink
Something quivers deep in my soul
Surging as waves on the sea
Something over which I have no control
I wonder what it could be
Something inspires me to get up
and welcome another day
Something replenishes my empty cup
While night hours meter away
Something draws me from yesterday’s pain
To welcome this measure of sod
Something beckons me to do it again
Something…or Someone…maybe God?
© Janet Martin
Something Good from the Something not so Good...
Don’t count your mistakes…
…count your life-lessons
Don’t count your failures…
…count your stepping-stones
Don’t count your regrets…
…count your moments of grace
Don’t count your misgivings…
…count your opportunities to forgive
…and don’t count them as nothing…
…count them as jewels
In a crown of wisdom
Something...because of Faith
When we fold our hands
Close our eyes
Whispering thought to the still of the air
It would be nothing
But for faith
And faith turns our whispers into prayer…
© Janet Martin
Something about Gardening
There’s something about
Fresh garden-dirt between my toes
That stirs images of lush
Pristine and perfect rows
There’s something about
Fresh garden dirt between my toes
That washes the mind
Of former gardening woes
There’s something about
Fresh garden-dirt between my hands
That makes me feel
Like a dreamer of youth again
© Janet Martin
Poetics Aside Prompt: Something...
Something about the Silence
Poetics Aside Prompt: Something...
Something about the silence
After you said goodbye
Expanded my perception
Of days gone by
And of appreciation
Something about waiting
For your return
Gives me the impression
I have a lot to learn
Of patience
Something about the emptiness
Where you used to be
Gives me a vague glimpse
Of eternity
And love
J~
Something about His Hands...
Poetics Aside Prompt: something-blank( you fill it in)
There’s something about the way
He tugs the sun to the day
Dissolving the barrier twixt twilight and dawn
And how each blade of grass
Gleams like frosted glass
A sea of diamonds on the front-yard lawn
And how the breath of God
As it warms the bud
Clothes the stark and barren lands
With vesture so fine
Beyond human mind
This makes me believe, we are in good hands
There’s something about seeds
The hope for man’s needs
Knowing when to stir while asleep in the earth
I marvel in thought
At how nature is taught
And yet, within man He placed greater worth
If we would obey
As easily as they
Life would be spared of many an ill
But He imbued in mankind
Something called a mind
And with it the blessed curse of free will
There’s something about spring
It makes the heart sing
As hope and renewal swell in emerald waves
There’s something about dawn
That urges us on
In spite of the dreams we relinquish to graves
There’s something about the way
Night is swallowed by day
Over and over and over again
That speaks of God’s love
And His mercy for us
And the assurance that we are in good Hands
© Janet Martin
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Time Marches On...
Time Marches On
(I thought about this song while I was running:) it makes me feel OLD! If you click the center wheel on the mouse on the link it will open to the song...it suits the slide-show somehow, impressing on the heart, the passage of time...Live laugh, love, pray! That is my motto every day!
We wrote about seasons today on the Poetics Aside prompt....obviously that draws the mind to the swift passage of time...as I was out tonight it felt like last spring was only an arm's length behind me, not a year's length! I'm sharing the photos I took on my evening trek:)
How swift the little seasons pass
A sigh upon earth's plot of grass
How soon the daffodil will lie
Against the mulch of days done by
Back to the earth where life began
And every fickle day of man
How swift our little toil is done
A transient moment in the sun
How futile life would be; how vain
If it were merely mortal gain
Without a soul hope would be grass
Beneath a sky where seasons pass
Janet Martin~
And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;
and man became a living soul.Gen.2:7
(I thought about this song while I was running:) it makes me feel OLD! If you click the center wheel on the mouse on the link it will open to the song...it suits the slide-show somehow, impressing on the heart, the passage of time...Live laugh, love, pray! That is my motto every day!
We wrote about seasons today on the Poetics Aside prompt....obviously that draws the mind to the swift passage of time...as I was out tonight it felt like last spring was only an arm's length behind me, not a year's length! I'm sharing the photos I took on my evening trek:)
How swift the little seasons pass
A sigh upon earth's plot of grass
How soon the daffodil will lie
Against the mulch of days done by
Back to the earth where life began
And every fickle day of man
How swift our little toil is done
A transient moment in the sun
How futile life would be; how vain
If it were merely mortal gain
Without a soul hope would be grass
Beneath a sky where seasons pass
Janet Martin~
And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground,
and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;
and man became a living soul.Gen.2:7
Strength of Endearment
Oceans of yearning
Can swallow the sky
Its lone hint of existence
A tear in the eye
Heartache can dwarf
Eternity
Yet is quietly shouldered
In humility
The strength of endearment
Is in love’s release
It is in relinquishment
That we can find peace
Butterfly moments
Flickers of gold
We ought not to squander
What we cannot hold
© Janet Martin
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)