The Impatience of Time

Time and Death wait for no man

Time is that thing we measure life by

In death there is no Time…

Simply eternity

Time multiplied infinitely

Cannot begin to fathom

Eternity...

Time gives you to me

And steals you away

Time is the hour

Of duty and play

But Death is waiting

At every man's door

Where there will be

No Time anymore...

Time is one tittle

And one Tiny jot

Time is one little

Intangible dot

A speck of blue

In infinite space

What would we do

Were it not for Grace?

Grace waits for everyone

But only 'til death

Our destiny sealed

In life's final breath

Death is not dark

In the light of God's love

Time is a spark

That death will snuff

Janet

My Sweet Addiction

You wake me up each morning
Much to my delight
You know exactly what I need
And how to do it right
I’m still a little sleepy
Until I feel your touch
Your warmth flows into, through me
I love you, oh, so much
Maxwell, you’re a darling
I keep you in a can
And reach for you each morning
To kiss your face of tan
Your deep and robust passion
Arouses to the core
I know now I cannot
Live without you anymore
You'll never need to worry
No one can take your place
I sip you and inhale you
With a smile upon my face
Maxwell, you’re a darling
I love your coat of blue
And in the early morning
No one else will do
Maxwell, you’re a keeper
Perfection in a can
I wonder what would happen
IF YOU WERE A MAN

Janet Martin

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-6

My Random Observations of the Day

Lips accustomed to spewing sarcasm and criticism

Do not turn butter-soft when kissed

Life splashes us with sudden unexpected beauties

Rosy autumn apples reflecting in the cheeks of a child

Heaven opened its window and released to the earth

Ten-thousand golden angels shaped like leaves

When you came home today with arms over-flowing with awards

I did not love you any less, or any more

Beauty really is in the eye of the beholder

As I behold you walking toward me beauty has outdone himself today

Cyber-space is crowded with the lonely looking for love

And she wonders why he will not come to bed

Do not darken my doorway if you are seeking perfection

But if you are simply looking for a cup of coffee or home, come on in

J~

The other morning we all stood amazed, not at one, but two crosses in the sunrise.

20/20 Vision

You can tell me quite easily

What I should have done

As you extol life's clarity

With visage of the sun

I know you mean it kindly

As a true and caring friend

But you have the great luxury

Of starting at the end

We never start with the intent

Of making a mistake

Or choose the road to tragedy

In choices that we make

It’s easy now to be so wise

And lend flawless advice

If I saw then what you see now

It sure would have been nice

Janet Martin

A story unfolded in our neighborhood a week ago…

When a kind lady involved in ‘helping’ what turned out to the perpetrators

was asked why she did it she replied, ‘you know the end now. When this began

I was in the beginning and simply thought I was helping someone. Truth be told, if the same thing happened again I would likely do the same thing…again.

I thought it was a great answer. How often we are apt to ‘judge’ after we see the whole story. The person involved is at the beginning…

Defeated

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

No one saw it.

Death

Flickering in his eyes

Or the way his cheek twitched

Or how his breath caught

At the mention of a certain word

No one saw when his last thread of hope vanished

His crooked grin replaced by an empty stare

As he gathered strength from a bottle

As he carved his initials on the wall

No one heard the thump of his head

As goodbye trickled in a bloody gurgle

Onto the sidewalk and into the gutter

Janet~

Written in loving memory of Darryl

Treasure

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-4

Beneath my disappointment

Discouragement, regret

Beneath a selfish mountain

Of thoughtless words I’ve said

Beneath a shrine of failure

Excuses weak; slipshod

I found a thing of splendor

I found the grace of God

Janet~

The Betrothal

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/11/thursday-think-tank-73-waning-days-of.html



A molten lake beneath the soil
Midst mangled roots of stealth
The maple trees have laid their spoil
In vaults of nature’s wealth
Perhaps a last wild rose will dare
To grace its morbid tomb
And cheer some passer-by’s despair
To see this brave bud bloom

Beyond the visage of the hour
By naked eye unseen
The russet teardrop holds the flower
Of springtime’s rarest green
And as it lays its head to sleep
Among earths tangled ruins
A thousand, thousand whispers leap
To nurture summer’s tunes

Beauty may paint its brief disguise
Upon time’s naked skin
Yet, essence of true beauty lies
In tender folds within
While bully winds and storms may toss
Stark limb with stances bold
The tree stands strong and sure because
Of roots in burnished gold

The waning days of Autumn weep
Each frosted leaf a tear
But in earth’s bosom dark and deep
Begins another year
Ah, this is victory, bittersweet
Life waits in earthen tombs
A virgin slumb’ring ‘neath our feet
Awaiting autumn’s groom

Janet Martin

Good-bye

It’s sort of like the cold blue wind
Moaning outside my door
It’s sort of like the ocean waves
Sweeping an empty shore
It’s sort of like a bit of dirt
Bothering my eye
It’s sort of like a great big hurt
Telling you good-bye


J~


http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-3

Candle-light

How sadly the wind is weeping
How empty the woodlands sigh
How brightly the star is gleaming
Like tinsel in the sky

How gently thoughts of you waken
How deeply they grip the heart
How soon a moment is taken
In breaths of timeless art

How quickly a year is over
A flicker, a chant, a sigh
A soul-mate, rebel, a lover
A twinkle in the eye

How withered the blooms are lying
How little is summer's day
How soon we would begin dying
Should Hope and Love decay

How still is the night without you
How dark, the fleet-footed day
How brightly the thoughts about you
Return to light my way

J~

Melissa's Art...and Victoria

Megan, the bottom portrait is Melissa's work in progress.
The top one is her Grade 11 final piece.
She said she would welcome any suggestions you might have...
I'm sorry that it seemed to blur when I cropped it. It makes it hard to see clearly...

November's Madrigal

The clouds are shaggy-gray tonight
A shroud across the moon
But I can hear a song in spite
Of Autumn’s barren room
The purple-blue of twilight’s brow
Its stealthy fingertips
Speak silently of things like snow
As dark and seamless lips
Swallow the far and fading sigh
Of daylight waning in the sky

The regimental symmetry
Of maple, stripped and bare
Arouses still-life imag’ry
Of sorrow ‘gainst the air
But it is not a hopeless grief
That grips the quiet heart
As testaments of ragged leaf
Sustain in works of art
A Surety of unseen things
Beyond the Death which autumn brings

The sentimental memories
The ache of days gone by
The provenance of melodies
The tear-note in the eye
Are love’s impressions on a wall
Of whispered seasons past
The paintings in a hallowed hall
Where not one slight is cast
As we behold the offerings
Of summer, autumn, winter, spring

Janet Martin

If Life Hands You Lemons...or Limes

Accolades and words of boast

are not testimonies sub-lime

to prove the things we love the most;

but how we spend our time

I thought of you the other day

And how you used to kiss me

Before you turned and walked away

Limes always do this to me

If life hands you its lemons

Then make some lemonade

If it hands you limes instead

Drizzle it on bean-salad

(it really is delicious on bean salad)

Do not keep score of failures

It is a waste of time

Sometimes life is the gravy

And sometimes salt and lime

Janet~

http://margoroby.wordpress.com/2011/11/01/a-lime-is-a-lime-or-is-it-tuesday-tryouts/

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-2

The Proof

Accolades and sleek words of boast

are not testimonies sublime

to prove the things we love the most;

It's how we spend our time

Janet~

Love One Another

Let me begin at the heart of you

Lest in my selfish haste

I sadly should miss the part of you

That forms love’s ever-best

Is there to love a beginning or end?

I have not found it so

Love cannot choose its course, my friend

Or where its tides may flow

I thought a kiss was love’s signature

But as I held you near

The rush of the past, present and future

Brushed my cheek in your tear

Affection is tender and beautiful

Love, a double-edged ache

All of life’s goodness, pleasure and grief

Tremble within its wake

Love is not glamorous, easy or grand

Nor a thing given in part

It is not something we hold in our hand

But something we are from the heart

Janet Martin

http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com/2011/10/carry-on-tuesday-129.html

Tomorrow...

http://www.writersdigest.com/


Tomorrow I will tackle
Those jobs around the yard
Load up the old wheel-barrow
With leaves, tattered and tired
I’ll rinse off all the shovels
The shears, edger and hoes
Stack the tomato cages
In neat and tidy rows

Tomorrow I'll clean windows
And fix the broken door
I'll tidy up the kitchen
And scrub my dirty floor
I'll bake the way I used to
Before life's craziness
I'll split the wood for kindling
And clean up every mess

Tomorrow I will wander
Beneath skies, cold and blue
And wish that I could squander
Another hour with you
The cold seems so much colder
And summer far behind
And I feel so much older
Without you on my mind

Tomorrow I will listen
To autumns parting hymn
A madrigal of wisdom
Left upon the limb
Tomorrow I’ll be willing
To fight the good old fight
But time is swift and fleeting
That’s why today I write

Janet Martin

Actually, I feel this is a little rough shod, but it all I could muster
After an exceptionally crazy day!

Prompt; Procrastination...that was easy. I took my mental 'to-do' list:)

Written for November's poem a day challenge.

Authors

We all have one
An original
Mystery and suspense
Romance, non-fiction
It doesn’t require
Pencil or pen
Simply moments
Cast in Time
I wonder
As you walk by
What’s being written
In the story of your life?

Janet~

The Veil

Today the sky’s a purple wall
Heavy with thoughts of rain
I cannot see too far at all
Into its ethereal plain
Yesterday it wore the soft hue
Of warmth and golden sun
Melting across the endless blue
Where cherubs play and run

Today we stand perhaps to gaze
Upon its mystery
Marveling at the dazzling haze
Of midnight’s starry sea
A canvas where the morning dawns
Or sunset tints the lea
A curtain twixt Time’s little yawn
And God’s infinity

Some day the elements will shake
And every eye behold
As through the veil a throng shall break
On chariots of gold
Today we see a skies facade
And heaven is concealed
Someday we’ll see the face of God
And Holiness revealed

Janet~

The other night I dreamed that I was staring at the sky
at a strange white speck which began to expand, and suddenly in
the space of a breath it burst across the sky; God and legions of angels
so bright I could not see! All I remember was being dumb-founded and saying 'this is it! this is The Day! it's over, it's over...and then I woke...

'I thought of this passage of scripture in Acts 1...


6 Then they gathered around him and asked him, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”

7 He said to them: “It is not for you to know the times or dates the Father has set by his own authority. 8 But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

9 After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight.

10 They were looking intently up into the sky as he was going, when suddenly two men dressed in white stood beside them. 11 “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.”

and this verse in Matthew 24:

30 “Then will appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven. And then all the peoples of the earth[c] will mourn when they see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory.

Yanked from a Dream...

The morning’s verdict comes too soon
On night’s like this
But dawn is fading out the moon
With silent kiss
Her curves align intricately
Against the dark
As day becomes a silver sea
And night the spark

I close my eyes willing night’s spell
To linger on
It is no use; for I can tell
That you are gone
The warmth of you against my skin
Is hard to bear
Ten-thousand memories hovering
On stringent air

The morning’s verdict will not sway
Its fingertips
Methodically tug you away
From sleep-warm lips
Smoothly the smiling day invades
The dreamer’s bliss
And with the dawn you slip away
No farewell kiss

J~

Autumn's Farewell Song

Bright hills are stripped of crimson hue
The stark skeletal limb resides
Where daylight, sharp with frozen dew
Transforms dull fields to silver tides
And frosty, jagged petals flow
In umber streams, upon the grass
As from the limb, like russet snow
Unwary flakes of autumn pass

The flower garden, stripped of charm
Has sown its glory in the earth
Until the sun begins to warm
The grave where lies its dormant mirth
The tune of meadow-lark and finch
Becomes the blue-jay’s raucous cry
As autumn’s shoulder, inch by inch
Forces earth’s solemn lullaby

The wind, like heaven’s giant broom
Sweeps gallantly across the yard
As leaves like scattered children run
Ahead of bristles pushing hard
Where once they whispered to the moon
They chatter softly at my feet
I pause and listen to the tune
Of autumn’s farewell, bittersweet

Janet

Yes, those are 'the glasses;)
referring to a few comments...

An Extra-ordinary Day

At a glance it’s nothing special
Just an ordinary day
Creeping up against the shadows
In an ordinary way
But if you observe it closely
You can see the Giver’s face
In this extra-ordinary gift
Another day of grace

Janet

This Saturday looked very ordinary at first glance…
Baking, work outside, finish up laundry, throw in the wood,
Do groceries…sigh. I looked a little closer. It’s not raining,
The sun has transformed the lawn into a golden platter
On which God is handing me an extra-ordinary gift, a day of grace!

Could It Be?

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/10/thuhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifrsday-think-tank-72-writers-block.html


I don’t think I’ll ever write anything I like again
I used to think I might be able to write…a little, now and then
Something sensible or humorous or practical or wise
But now I am beginning to realize
Where words once taunted and laughed out loud
There is thick, wooly cotton
And thunderclouds
And silence presses on my head
Like a heavy rock
Could it be?
I utter with dread,
Could it be writer’s block?

Reminiscing...

The hollow gaze of midnight’s moon
The lapping waves of ancient June
The faded edge of summer’s tune
Kindles a sudden yearning
The empty boardwalk at the beach
The lingering essence of a peach
The breath of whispers out of reach
Ignites a quiet burning

The salty kiss of ocean breeze
The wantonness of willow trees
The ebb and flow of memories
Descends from unplumbed arches
The howl of coyotes on the wind
The breakers crashing in my mind
The footfall of days left behind
Rigid, the hour marches

Teal canvas flush with sky and sea
The artists brush a mystery
A portrait of wild ecstasy
Within my heart is sighing
Soft, murm’ring lips against my ear
The scent of peach, love’s tender tear
The warmth of knowing you are near
Enhances autumn’s crying

J~

Headaches

http://margoroby.wordpress.com/


They all stared at the odd little creature
Isn’t that what zoos were for?
I had a headache and wanted to go home

I watched the carousel go round and round
As other children smiled and flew to the moon
It costs money to fly to the moon

I stood behind the fat wooden Mother Hubbard
They all laughed because I looked funny
It’s hard to see yourself

Nylon kerchiefs itch and invite curious stares
We stood, watching the monkeys and laughed
I saw someone look at me and laugh, as if I were a monkey

Now I know that candy floss is not something from a book
It’s pale green and pink and other people eat it.
I had a headache and wanted to go home

Janet Martin

Since Margo’s Prompt on Tuesday I have been trying to decide
whether I want to write this.(We were asked to write about our first recollection of a trip to an amusement park, and sensory imagery)I'm not sure how old I was, but approx. 10 yrs old. Drifts of memory may have two trips blurred together
with distinct, similar flavors…
I was raised in a culture where we did NOT look like ‘everyone else’, and I was always keenly aware of the polite and impolite curious stares and smirks…I had a headache and wanted to go home!

Sonnet of Reconciliation

Where once the lusty breeze greeted the dawn
Or breathed imaginations on the dusk
Where sunset gathered shadows on the lawn
In orchards bent with fantasy and musk
Where once I lived each season’s mindless dash
Considered not the fortune of my youth
But reveled in the temporary splash
Before the quiet reckoning of truth
As all my boasts like bits of painted chaff
Rose to the starry vaults to make God laugh

Where once the thought of us stole every hour
And parting drove the heart quite nearly wild
As tight-lipped bud softly began to flower
Shedding the innocence of summer’s child
Before the slow decay of autumn’s grip
Tugged from our hand youths sweet and selfish glove
And carefree passion vanished from the lip
Replaced by kinder lines of grief and love
As calloused fingers fold in evening prayer
And humble benedictions brush the air

Janet Martin

No Quitter

‘I give up, I quit
It isn’t fair’
Yet, as those words bit the air
I knew
That it wasn’t true
And it’s not up to me
Or you
To decide
To quit trying
Because of wounded pride
Or because we’re tired
Or because it isn’t fair
And we beat the guiltless air
When everyone will have
Their own battle to fight
We’ve all been sad
And that’s all right
A war is not won
By the soldier who quits
But by he who bends
His face to the wind
Though the odds are against him
And he’s tired of it
The person who wins
Is the one who won’t quit

J~

Things...

I can rearrange my furniture
And add some fresh appeal
To corners growing stagnant,
I can walk around and steal
A vase, a book, a picture frame
And take it from the shelf
Wiggle and twist and turn them ‘round
Until I please myself

But there are things I cannot touch
Or ever re-arrange
Time does not seem to matter much
These things I cannot change
Are carefully protected
In my heart’s tender embrace
And all the changes in the world
Can’t tear them from their place


Things are but trimmings in a house
To move from room to room
But love and joy and peace, my friend
These make a house a home
My love for you brings me great joy
This great joy brings me peace
I pray that God will bless each one
Who enters here, with these

J~

After pulling my library together into one space I was left with an empty corner...
So I lugged in the book-case with all my poetry books from another room, dragged up a chair from the rec room and filled this corner...of course, in the process I created new empty spaces:))

Hind-sight

You took me where
I did not want to go
My cries filled the air
As I pleaded, ‘no’
Now, in hind-sight
I look at the end
This was the road
That led to a friend

J~

Genuine Compassion

We shake our heads and cluck our tongues
And ‘tsk-tsk’ over that and this
As ‘bad news’ makes its daily rounds
Beneath the guise of ‘no gossip’
The ‘did you hear?’ and ‘did you know’s?’
Becomes the fodder for the tongue
As fast and furious ‘bad news’ flows
And none are spared, not old nor young
But raised eye-brows and holy gasps
And verbal nuance clouds the air
As on and on the woes are passed
Of love’s misfortunes and despair
No longer private is the name
Of he who stumbled on life’s path
But in a public hall of shame
Looms penance in the gossip’s wrath
And woe to he who must endure
‘Pious compassion’ of the just
Mauling not what is good and pure
But agonies of man-kind’s lust…
…‘Let he who never yet hath sinned
Be the first to cast a stone’
Ten-thousand ‘should-haves’ cannot do
What one whispered prayer has done

Janet Martin

Morning Prayer

Open my mind, Lord
To feel every moment
Wide as an ocean
Let my visage be
Not in the seeing
But simply the knowing
That life is a footprint
In eternity


Open my eyes, Lord
And help me to feel it
A whisper of heaven
In every breath
Open my eyes, Lord
In moments reveal it
Without Your great mercy
My life would be death

Open my heart, Lord
Oh, let my vision
Not be deceived
By the world around me
Open my heart, Lord
Someday in your Kingdom
You will unveil
What these eyes cannot see

Janet Martin

October Rain Song

The dark reached long into the day
And earth could not persuade
The heavens to decline the gray
For summer’s warmer shade

The rain weeps in perpetual grief
Its tempo, high then low
Plucking the valiant autumn leaf
Into the river’s flow

The traffic hisses in the street
The wind rattles the doors
Beneath umbrellas, hurried feet
Hasten to work-place shores

The dark reached far across the hour
In desolate requiem
A dirge to every leaf and flow’r
As earth becomes a stream

Janet Martin

It was so dark at 8:00 a.m. when the kids got on the bus,
that I had to strain to see Victoria's rapidly fluttering hand
waving good-bye.

Awareness

There’s a consciousness in living
That endears life’s simple hours
And the secret of its treasure
Does not lie in mystic powers

There’s a consciousness in living
That keens both the heart and mind
To the gift within a moment
And the brevity of Time

There’s a consciousness in living
That makes sacred every breath
And enriches what we’re holding
It’s the consciousness of death

Janet Martin

Satisfied

When my head’s full of words
With a pen in my hand
When my Muse is stirred
In evening’s dark strand
When the sky laughs its colors
From lips of gray-blue
And I forget trouble
Distracted by you
When my heart’s full of dreaming
And my heads full of rhymes
And I break all the statutes
Of meter and time
And the words just keep pouring
From my fingertips
Like the sun in the morning
Or the smile on my lips
When I feel like flying
With two feet on the ground
And I hear you near me
In the night’s quiet sound
When the sorrow and sadness
Of life disappears
Wrapped in the music
Of an old poet’s tears
And I feel the warmth
Of your sigh on my skin
And I hear the longing
Of you on the wind
When seeing is nothing
And blindness is sight
As faith guides me onward
Through shadow and light
When paper and passion
And pleasure collide
To meet for a moment
In briefest delight
Then is the heartbeat
Of love’s tender bliss
The having and holding
Of what was and what is
As I hold your closer
And I draw you home
With nothing but paper
A pen and a poem

J~

Perfect

There’s nothing like love’s tender kisses
Warm against a cold, dark night
There’s nothing like a quickened heart-beat
In the softened candle-light
There’s nothing like intimate whispers
When the world lies fast asleep
There’s nothing like the quiet knowing
Promises were meant to keep

There’s nothing quite as truly lovely
As two people, lost in love
There’s nothing that is quite as lonely
As the thought of what once was
There’s nothing quite as pure and perfect
In this little walk of strife
Than finding ‘mongst the countless masses
A soul mate to share your life

J~

Summer Heart

Sometimes, on nights like tonight
In the rain, no longer a warm splatter of kisses
But a mass of hissing serpents
Lashing 'gainst my window-pane,
I find myself unable
To teach my heart simple words
Like good-bye, letting go or trust

Sometimes, on nights like tonight
As daylight dissolves an hour too soon
In dark blue fingers of twilight
Raking across the weeping sky
I find myself
Reaching into the wet darkness
Against the obvious

Sometimes, on nights like tonight
As reasoning unravels without constraint
In echoes of desperation
Across the deepening farewell
I find myself
Returning to the moment
Of having and holding and us

J~

Gratitude

Against the blue and frosted slope

I see a somber throng

Like matadors robbed of their cloaks

Or minstrels with no song

A thickened sort of quiet lies

Against the rugged cusp

Where winds, like stiff-starched orderlies

Have stripped sweet summer’s lust

And up into the vaulted sky

I hear the murmur of good-bye

Against the ruby thread of dawn

I see a silhouette

A lonesome sort of picture drawn

In frames of sorrow, yet

A battle-song of beauty moans

From thorns without their bloom

In dark and muted undertones

It warms earth’s stricken tomb

As petal-tear of flow’r and leaf

Imbrues the sphere with nature’s grief

Against the tumult of the heart

A tender peace resides

For as in seasons of the earth

God’s faithfulness abides

When life is rich with vibrant bloom

Or stripped of mortal cheer

He whispers in the aching gloom

To tell us He is near

And over autumn’s garb subdued

We breathe a prayer of gratitude

Janet Martin

The landscape shivers in the still of dawn,

Naked and stark as summer’s final chapter decks the frosty ground…

A sad beauty prevails…

It tugs the spectator’s heart in equal forces of joy and grief

Ah, tis true as the old poet said, ‘there is a flower in every leaf’

Puzzled

For all of your words

Only one dims my eye

I guess I never heard

When you said good-bye

For all of the promises

You breathed in my ear

There is no sign of them

Now, but a tear

For all of the moments

I clench in my fist

I’m drawn to the one

I must have missed…

J~

Method of Madness

We string them together

Dark wood,

Gray stone

Sparkling jewel,

Winsome charm,

Wine-red ruby,

Lustrous pearl

Violet amethyst,

Obsidian swirl

Dazzling diamond

Copper, brass,

The teardrop

And sapphire

Tempered glass

We string them together

The sunshine and rain

Notes of life, love,

Of pleasure and pain

Sometimes harsh, bone-chilling

Sometimes smooth and warm

And when it’s all said and done

We have…

…a poem

J~

Whispers of Him

A spangle of daisies

On springs meadow-land

A breeze, slow and lazy

Across the white sand

A breath-taking canvas

As daylight grows dim

Yet, still mankind glimpses

But whispers of Him

The glory of nature

Contained in a seed

The strength of man’s stature

Dependent on bread

As rain from the heavens

Turns bare fallow green

Mankind is given

Soft whispers of Him

Infinite resplendence

Extended in space

Nothing but Providence

To keep it in place

And on the blue circle

A wee baby’s birth

Whispers of an angel

Descending to earth

Hurricane lashing

On vulnerable shores

As dark seas come crashing

Through earth’s fragile doors

Rainbows of promise

A tiny bird sings

And yet mankind glimpses

But whispers of Him

The ring of a hammer

The flash of a sword

The insolent clamor

For the death of our Lord

The cry of redemption

As His breath grows dim

And still mankind glimpses

But whispers of Him

Janet Martin

Each season in life reminds me of His whispers...

Job 26: 14 says...

'And these are but the outer fringe of his works;
how faint the whisper we hear of him!'

Enlightened?

As seasons sweep earth’s scattered shores

And time begins and ends its wars

As history knocks upon our doors

What have we learned?

Are we, who live earth’s latter years

Are we much wiser than our peers?

Have we gained wisdom by their tears?

What have we learned?

As mothers, sweethearts, lovers cry

As newborn babies live, to die

As hatred calls and we reply

What have we learned?

Through all the badges, medals earned

Through building bridges, once we burned

As history’s vivid proof returns

What have we learned?

Through all earth’s battles, won or lost

In pages tallying its cost

With great technology, our boast

What have we learned?

Today we have the luxury

Of unprecedented technology

How wise, how wise we ought to be

What have we learned?

Janet Martin~

Inspired in part, by last night's 60 minutes broadcast on the life of Steve Jobs.

His analysis of life- 'we come alone, we leave alone. Everything between those two points

no longer matters'. quoted loosely...the sadness of his words gripped my thoughts. I can't forget it.

He said, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, And naked I shall return there. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD." Job 1:21

Allowances

I would allow you, my darling

To persuade me with your lips

To walk, once more to the parting

But then, not as passing ships

Would we drift on silent oceans

Into heart-breaks endless night

But this time our love and devotion

Would dare to remain and fight

I would allow you, my darling

To brush misgiving aside

November is long without loving

How dull is its fireside

I would allow you to whisper

Those words I chose not to hear

I would not restrain the winter

If you came to meet me, my dear

The clock on the mantle reminds me

How moments flit through the heart

And though you are sitting beside me

Somehow we are oceans apart

When did we come to the crossroad?

Where did love’s passion divide?

Why do we choose to be lonely

While sitting here, side by side?

I would allow you my darling

To sway me with word’s delight

But somehow its lure is a weapon

Sharpened by misuse and spite

Would it make any difference

If we found a new way to start?

Or have years of hard, practiced silence

Molded an iron-clad heart?

J~

This is not autobiographical…

But it could be, if we chose stubborn pride.

The Perfect Shade of Blue

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/wordle-27/

Ragged, clouds, rusted out, nods, glaze, blade, bridges, drag, stretched,

straighten, rolling, beginning,

every now and then I still can see it

spilling from the ragged edge of a cloud

or tinting frost-glazed crab-grass

beneath the bridge

where we sat, dreaming out loud

and heaven would pass

softly beneath fingertips

and smiling lips

as long, barefoot afternoons

stretched across our sighs

reaching to the blue moon

and we would drag our toes across

the gurgling surface of June’s beginning,

but the rolling force of love's rushing streams

straightens our lop-sided fantasies

pointing our faces forward instead of back

to where I still can see

the perfect shade of blue

before you closed your eyes

and cold November's sky

nods over rusted-out dreams.

J~

Listening to the Silence

http://carryontuesdayprompt.blogspot.com/2011/10/carry-on-tuesday-128.htmlhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

They say that walls cannot talk
and it may be true most of the time.
It has been years since I passed the little cabin
tucked between hemlock, cedar and pine.
The windows that used to laugh and beg
are lonely, dark and sad.
The room no longer smells of spruce
or fresh paint and turpentine.
The wind moans through hollow black eyes
teasing the ivy vine
dangling in the yawn where a door once creaked.
I am sitting alone listening to the silence.

It was hot that night
and the moon was so low that the pine spires
nearly touched its lenient, friendly smile
The breeze tousled the ferns and whispered
in a reckless sense of style
as the night cajoled us with nature’s orchestra
It was hot that night and we were alone.
Too far away from home for fear
and still too close for comfort.
In the quiet I hear you asking,
mostly with your eyes,
and I hear my reply, in like manner.
I am sitting alone, listening to the silence.

Janet Martin