Rainy Night in June

Tonight the screen is heavy
with  warm,silver tears of June
The wind weeps; melancholy
a low and mournful tune
over the darkened pasture
and through my rain-swept heart
where I hold you to me, darling
while we are far apart

Tonight the sky is a hollow
without border, base or breadth
Its blackness seems to swallow
The wee, winsome drop of earth
Tonight I cannot hold back
the tears that fall like rain
And so I hold you closer
Until we will meet again

I feel your soothing whisper
Cool the longing on my skin
I hear our tumbled music
Soothe the aching deep within
I taste our salty teardrops
As they sweep thought's vague rampart
Oh, who knew that an ocean
Could be held within a heart?

J~

Thank-you for Calvary

Jesus said, “It is finished.” John 19:30

When I think of my weakness

And how lost I would be

I cry thank-you Jesus

For Calvary

When I think of my wretchedness

And my vast need

I cry thank-you Jesus

For Calvary

When doubt and despair

Seek to over-whelm me

I cry thank-you Jesus

For Calvary

When I see myself

Bound for eternity

I cry thank-you Jesus

For Calvary

© Janet Martin

 When He had given thanks, He broke it and said, “Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” ²⁵ In the same manner He also took the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.”

²⁶ For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death till He comes. 1 Cor. 11: 24-26

Right on Time

You guide the seed on the wind, Lord

You see the place where it rests

Give us discernment of mind, Lord

Help us to plant our best

You teach the seed how to grow, Lord

We simply water and wait

There is much we do not know, Lord

But we know you are never late

© Janet Martin

Perfect Order

The vibrant bloom is drooping

And my pulse is charged with grief

As I see the quiet workings

Of a stealthy, subtle thief

As sure as spring turns into summer

And the summer turns to fall

Is the fair and fleeting favor

Of life’s youthful madrigal

Soon its eager glow is ravaged

By the pilferage of time

Soon the bud of blossomed beauty

Succumbs to the season’s rhyme

And the flower weeps its petals

Back to earth from whence it came

Leaving nothing but its memory

And the whisper of its name

Yes, the vibrant bloom is drooping

Man cannot dissuade the course

Or design of nature’s order

Nor the Hand beneath its force

To everything there is a season

And a time for every plan

We cannot thwart God’s perfect reason

For we are simply…man

© Janet Martin

I noticed that the peonies are beginning to die and something akin to grief stirred in me to realize another year of peonies is quickly passing...

Eccles. 3:1-8

Isa.55:8-13 “For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
    neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
⁹ “As the heavens are higher than the earth,
    so are my ways higher than your ways
    and my thoughts than your thoughts.
¹⁰ As the rain and the snow
    come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
    without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
    so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
¹¹ so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
    It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire

  and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
¹² You will go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
    will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
    will clap their hands.
¹³ Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,
    and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the Lord’s renown,
    for an everlasting sign,
    that will endure forever.”

Equality's Behoovement

All flesh and blood is equal

In the eyes of its Creator

There is no person lesser

Nor is anybody greater

The filament by which we’re formed

From Adam has not varied

Dust we are; to dust returned

As lifeless shrouds are buried

And if all flesh is equal then

Does it not thus behoove us

To love fully our fellowmen

Before Time’s Hand removes us

Dust we are; to dust returned

A humble proclamation

Befitting us for but one thing

Love, without reservation

© Janet Martin

For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith. Romans 12:3 NAS

Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Phil. 2:3 KJV

Flesh and Blood Compassion

When flesh and blood lies bleeding

Farewell thoughts against the sky

Away, away from loved ones

They weep out their last good-bye

When freedom’s price is blood-bought

With a brother, daughter, son

Our grief is universal

And our teardrops flow as one

When freedom’s charge is gathered

Again…again… again

We see, not nation or color

But simply women, men

With flesh and blood compassion

We plead out to God above

To comfort those who sorrow

For the ones they dearly love

When freedom’s price is blood-bought

Charted ramparts disappear

For in death we all are kindred

And our sorrow is a tear

© Janet Martin

Written in memory of four French soldiers killed yesterday in Afghanistan

My tears and prayers are for civilian victims as well.

Hello Megan. First, sorry for my english, I'm French. I often come to your blog because I like so much your tags and stationery (thank you so much for sharing them with us), and tonight I happened to see that post for Memorial Day. Yesterday, 4 french soldiers died in Afghanistan (I hope your poem is also for other countries fighting for freedom and not only the US). My brother, who is in the military, will be there in a few weeks, so thank you for that post. Thank you for sharing this also.
Louise

Thank you for sharing with us all ~ and impacting lives around the world...

How We Love Thee

Where wild phlox crawls in purple rivers

And azure seas of noon-tide gleam

On green fields rolling to forever

Beneath the sun’s coronal beam

Where butter-cups gold-vessel splendor

Pools on bluffs, on banks and hills

And our shadows, long and slender

On the twilight hour spills

Where the willow’s wanton weeping

Tunes the midnight’s moody moan

Where December’s stream lay sleeping

Now it laughs on mud and stones

Where the strain of sunset vesper

Lingers on the trembled hush

As the stain of heaven’s grandeur

Falls in mercy from its brush

Where the nail-hook says ‘gone fishing’

For these drawn-out days are small

Soon the summer heart is wishing

For the hours preceding fall

Where the heart is humbly happy

As the bumbling, tumbling bee

Imbibed with heady lupine-nectar

Fairest June, how we love thee

© Janet Martin

Sunday Whirl

Like Water...

The truth is

A little like

Water

We cannot

Dilute

Dissolve

Or drown it 

Janet~

Poetic Bloomings Prompt: Water

The Intangible Corrosion

There are finger-tips

Not of skin

But oh…the touch

There are kisses

Not of lips

But oh…the desire

There are wanderings

Not of footprints

But oh…the destinies

There are oceans

Not of water

But oh…the drowning

J~ 

 Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. 1 Cor. 10:12

Of What Remains

Sometimes when the sky is full of night

and the wind slumbers

high in the poplar trees

where the song of soft summer rain

haggles the leaves by day…

Sometimes, when the moon is swallowed in blackness

as earth and sky coalesce

in inky nothingness

save for the thickening quiet

blanketing the hour…

Sometimes, when longing could swallow an ocean

and emptiness is full of aching

and aching is full of emptiness

save for a the echo

of what could have been...

Sometimes, then I weep for gladness

and the love of double-edges

for surely fulfillment and need

are the enduring offerings

of what remains

I remember

J~

Days of Grass

As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.Ps. 103:15

Man’s days are as grass

Soon its labor and lust

Returns once more

To coffers of dust

Man’s days are as grass

How fickle the bloom

Soon it decays

In earth’s vast tomb

Man’s days are as grass

But not the soul

It never dies

Though eternities roll