Too Late

It's too late
to undo yesterday
but Today
gleams like a beacon
of opportunity
across life's sands

Janet

Today's Prompt; Too late

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-18

Cold Gold

The night inhales the billows

That glowered through the day

Tonight they brush earth’s pillow

In whispers silver-gray

But for a little moment

Twixt the daylight and the eve

They parted low-flung shutters

To release a gold-flecked sea

The dull, gray emptiness transformed

As dazzling butterflies

Fell, in a glorious sudden storm

From heaven’s golden eyes

Janet

Yes, those were 'snow mountains' in the sky this morning...

(see earlier post, The Dawning)

for a few brief moments the sun broke through and the snow passed through a bar of light

in a rush of gold...

My Druthers...(a re-post for Thurs. think-tank)

I’druther you were painfully honest with me
And my feelings would sting for a while
Than to walk with you down a fern-lined street
As you lie to me through your smile
I’druther be a little homely
Than a cheap and painted fraud
Who wears a mask to fool people
Forgetting I can never fool God
I’ruther be poor and happy
Learning to be content
Than rich with a pocket of fool’s gold
That brings no joy when it’s spent
I’druther have one friend who is honest
Than a hundred which seem to lack
The ability to be faithful
As they stab me in the back
I’druther have a house full of laughter
With furniture battered and scarred
Than live in a palace that’s silent
With every façade unmarred
I’druther have my arms full of children
Than trophies and accolades
And I like a ten-minute vacation
Beneath the willow’s shade
I’druther drive my ugly mini-van
With a happy family
Than be alone with a perfect tan
In a red Lamborghini
I’druther have a little trouble
Here on my acre of sod
Than live in a perfect bubble
Where I would never need God

Janet~

Maybe Then...

Maybe someday, in an obscure, out-of-place

Something will remind you about her

And something deep inside you

Will reach out to touch her face

As you recall the moments that once were

Maybe some night, you will wake beside her

And in a crazy dream she’ll reappear

And for awhile you’ll dance

And for a while remember

And maybe in your sleep you’ll shed a tear

Maybe someday, in the corner of your mind

You’ll stumble o’er a sudden memory

Maybe then you’ll think of her

And maybe then you’ll smile

And wonder for a moment …about me

Janet Martin

Cause and Effect

Drop a stone into the wave
And you will have a sea
Drop a seed into its grave
And you will have a tree

Speak a word; how brief its stage
A breath and it is gone
Write a word upon a page
And it lives on and on

Shout your anger to the air
And beat the silent sod
Or fold your sorrow in a prayer
And give it up to God

Janet Martin

The Dawning

He breathes a subtle softening

In shades of chartreuse-gray

It stirs pink thoughts of morning

On sky-lines far away

The clouds like billowed mountains

Cannot hold back the day

The dark is but a season

Beyond its somber shield

Lies heaven’s perfect reason

Like dawn; its light concealed

Until He parts the curtain

And His glory is revealed

Janet Martin

Worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth. Psalm 96:9

Today's PAD prompt: something revealed

This morning the clouds gave the impression of massive

blue mountains on the skyline, as the sun climbed above their gleaming peaks.

Precious Revelation

You

The butterfly in November’s purple air

The envelope in which I send

My deeply uttered prayer

You

The tangent proof of this life’s hope and grace

The sparkle in my teardrop,

The laugh-line on my face

You,

A perfect storm dismantling my living-room

The bud that holds the flower

The rose about to bloom

You,

The golden sunbeam on an autumn-dappled field

The God of love and mercy

In a child revealed

Janet~

God, in a beautiful flurry of spills, finger-prints, sticky kisses,

toy messes, 'I forgot's', warm bed-time hugs, I love you's...

Today's prompt: something revealed.

A Mystery (re-post)

Who can explain love?
This thing we give and give
Yet can never give too much of
Or get enough…..

It is not a mere emotion
For emotions rise and fall
While love serves with devotion
Standing faithful through it all

Who can explain this four-letter word?
Leaving us most intensely stirred
Evoking within us life’s greatest pleasure
And deepest pain
Yet, it seems we love without measure
And it is impossible to love in vain
Though we may love and lose….
We love again

There is none so rich that he does not need it
And none so poor that he cannot have it
Love’s stores are never depleted
Yet useless if we try to save it

In love we hold, kiss and embrace
In love we let go as tears cover our face
In love we leap, in love we fly
In love we live, in love we die

Who can explain love?
This many-splendored desire
Mild as a cooing dove
Wild as a raging fire
Solid as a rock in the ocean
Yet soft as the mist on the sea
Is there any who can explain it?
This splendid mystery

Janet~

Yesterday's poem-a-day prompt was love...
I like love:) this is today's love to you from me~

They Call Him Joe...

They call him Joe
Joe the janitor, actually
That guy behind the broom or mop
The hand picking up
Stray wrappers and paper cups
That’s Joe.
His shoulder’s once broad and alert
Are stooped
Like his heart,
His hair; silver-gray
Life’s finer art,
He walks a little slower now
Than he did yesterday
And the children dash on by
Joe, he watches and smiles a little
With a tear in his eye
Joe, pushing a mop
That will not clean up the pieces
Of a memory
Or a broken heart
Because when Henrietta lied,
And left with his babies
The Joe of yester-years
Died.

Janet Martin

Once Upon a Perfect Day

Once upon a perfect day

No one will say good-bye

Or stand in a soup-kitchen line

With hollow, hungry eye

No one will fill their greedy lips

With bread torn from the poor

Then cuss because their padded hips

Were once size twenty-four

Upon this perfect day our hands

Will give instead of take

Duty will ease its stoic demands

For picnics by the lake

Laughter will travel on each breeze

On every mouth, a smile

As we stroll through the hour with ease

And walk a second mile

No one will kiss another’s love

Or steal a child’s first bloom

Each lonely child will have a hug

And somewhere to call home

We all will take the time to pray

No one will fight or yell

And all our pain will melt away

And all the sick be well

Once upon a perfect day

Sweet peace will deck this sod

As bombs and guns are put away

With faces turned to God

Then bitterness will be subdued

And hate vanish away

As hearts o’er-flow with gratitude

Upon this perfect day

Janet Martin~


Today's prompt; Once upon a...

Rain-song

I hear the rain fall softly on the morn where once we lay
It rouses up the scent of dust; of corn and fresh-mown hay
And how the twilight comes too soon with misty lullabies
Drawing its body o’er the moon with dark and down-cast eyes

How much it seems like you are here; and oh how we would dance
Into your arms I fall, my dear and melt into your glance
As you, with lips against my hair, our heart-beats intertwine
We toss misgivings to the air; drunk on love’s fuller wine

Hold me closer, darling; take me out into the rain
If I must leave by morning, I will not have loved in vain
Truth and fact loom broad and bold against the thinning dark
And I begin to feel the cold in midnight’s waning spark

I hear the rain fall softly on the morn where once we lay
Its notes a tender love song washing fallow, dull and gray
And how it seems that you are here, somewhere in the same rain
I hold you closer to me, dear, I have not loved in vain

Time’s wink may swallow up the hour and present soon is done
With you I dance upon the flower; and fly into the sun
Tilt back your head my darling, drink the nectar from the sky
We’ll always love each other and we’ll never say good-bye

The raindrop skims the rooftops and the field where we would dance
It sparkles on my memory and quivers in my glance
The silver tears of midnight weep upon earth’s polished floor
I hear the distant billows sweep a cold and empty shore

If life’s a dance, my darling, then the rain must be its song
Before the night is morning someone else’s love is gone
I’ll hold you closer to me, kiss the teardrop in your eye
Somewhere the sun is shining and we’ll never say good-bye


Janet Martin

Out-pouring of Perfection

He could have sent a prophet
A servant, meek and low
To bear the curse of evil
And hatreds cruel blow
He could have sent a king of earth
A pauper or a priest
He had the power to place His worth
Within a mindless beast
He could have sent His angels
Legions to fill the sky
To spare Himself the anguish
Of watching His Son die
He could have, with one uttered word
Declared all man forgiven
He could have, from His visage stirred
The rocks to shout salvation
But He chose to put on flesh
The Sacred Son of Heaven
Became a servant unto men
In form, lowly and human
Upon a cross He gave Himself
A King and Royal Priest
And not one drop of love withheld
As death’s curse was released
He could have sent an army
To face the fiends of hell
But He loved us so completely
That He sent Himself

Janet

~The more we love others, the more of ourselves we give.

Inspired by Isa. 53 and Phil. 4

The Flip-side of ‘Dark and Dangerous’…

Warm lips,
Merely flesh and blood
Yet, as they graze our cheeks,
Our ears, our neck
Arousing thought
Heaven-inspired
And as they whisper forgiveness
Encouragement and hope
Pleading for the same in return,
As they, with nothing but half-words
Cradle our hearts in the palm
Of contentment
As they murmur,
A thousand miles away
While reading these lines
As they pulse with the longing to be kissed
And as they turn to smile bravely
In spite of life
We know, it is not lips
Merely flesh and blood lips
But love
The tender out-pouring of self
That makes life beautiful
And I love you

Janet Martin

To the Night...

Night, close your dark-fringed lashes o’er the day
And tug the dazzling froth of starlight near
Ignore the hours which now in ambush lay
To leap upon the closing of a year
Oh, hold me close in somnolent embrace
Don’t ask about the teardrops on my face

Night, some would choose to count your phantom sheep
I do not care for pastimes such as this
I crave your melancholy, still and deep
The ravaging fulfillment of your kiss
Around my shoulder and my soul recline
And do not ask about these tears of mine

Night, now I lay my head against your thigh
Together we inhale the solitude
One with the symmetry of earth and sky
As nature’s very heartbeat is subdued
I don’t ask why the silence seems to cry
And you don’t brush the teardrop from my eye

Janet Martin

November's Pantomime

Now on earth’s weathered cheek her teardrops lie
A golden trace of autumn in her eye
And now the wind, a king stripped of its throne
Drifts through this cold and barren world alone
Now folds the lily-cup her waxen lips
Denying vagrant bees, their final sips
While multi-layered skies in purple-blue
Rivet the eye to heaven’s avenue

Now restless feet slow-dance to melodies
Of somber beat and sun-drenched memories
And now the valiant seed of summer sleeps
Where Time in numbered breaths its vigil keeps
The meadow-stream carries with purposed stride
A metaphor of moments in its tide
While humble hearts, like spectators of Time
Watch the unfolding of life’s pantomime

And now the boy of spring becomes a man
As ruddiness imbues the cheek of tan
Now earth receives its draught of umber-gold
Preparing for the thrust of winter’s cold
As nature pens its solemn madrigal
And slips its fingers through each heart and soul
Mankind acknowledges his depth of need
…for now the summer flower has run to seed

Janet Martin

In a matter of days the trees
went from gold-leaf canopy
to bare and naked.

the sky followed suite...
from pure azure to dull gray

Dark and Dangerous

He loved her
Enough to give her
A piece of himself
Crumbs falling from the table
He reserved
For himself

She loved him
But the tasteless crumbs
Are burning a hole
In the pit of her heart
And the core
Of her soul

Love nourishes;
There is no sustenance
In paltry crumbs
But,it seems longing numbs
Her ability
To know the difference


Janet Martin

The Call of Life

Solitary triumph
Monumental grief
Oceans of vain doubting
Swallowed in Belief
Deep unspoken sorrow
Disquieting fears
Hope for each tomorrow
As today disappears
Tear within the eye now
Aching in the chest
Letting our dreams die now
Because God knows best
Brave blue-collar heroes
Unnamed and unsung
Longing, as it sears through
Thirsting on our tongue
Rising and the falling
Ebbing and the flow
We answer the calling
Of living’s joy and woe
Life's November weeping
Into the thin dark
Love's memories sleeping
In yesterday’s spark
Whispers of desire
Feathering the sod
Lifting our hope higher
And homeward to God

Janet~

I waved, to my 'blue-collar hero'
leaving for another week of 'invisible heroism',
I waved to my 19 yr. old daughter, leaving in 'scrubs'
for a new phase of training...
I waved to my 3 scholars waiting for the bus...
...and then turn toward the washing machine as the house quiets.
Each of us answering the call of life.

Breath-moments

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/


Motionless,
the strength of these
etched against the coral sky
like phantom bees
steals my breath,
Dusk kindly cleaning
the unsightly remnants
from a day rapidly fading
before my eyes
to the safety of the past.
Breath-moments, a brief point of ‘present’,
they balance, swivel and slip
from the tip of my finger
invisible flickers,
yet eloquent enough
to form a life

Janet Martin

poem-a-day challenge; kindness

They All go Home

They all go home,
leaning on the arms
of their chosen loves
laughter fading into
the gathering dusk

They all go home,
silence dense and
enlarged, like a woodland
in the absence
of bird and leaf

They all go home
but she who wanders
returning the stares of
empty chairs
looking for love

Janet Martin

Age of Entitlement

What spurs the seasons of this life
Which bleed upon the sod?
We squander love and hate alike
To serve lust’s lesser god

Freedom is not entitlement
To please our shallow pride
On autumn's crimson diadem
Brave men of honor died

Beneath the gray November sky
Beneath the warm spring sun
Beneath the fireworks of July
Our freedom has begun

Dare we to spill one hallowed breath
In thoughtless chivalry,
Or live as though we own the earth
Bought once through history?

Seasons and mankind mark the soil
Where soldier’s blood-drops fell
If freedom’s cost evades our toil
Then we are bound for hell

What spurs the seasons treading time?
Tis not entitlement
That brings the rain or sun to shine
On meadows that we plant

We gather harvest of the field
Yet, who evokes the sod?
Can we preserve our freedom’s shield
Yet spurn the hand of God?

Excess of things leaves senses dulled
To need and poverty
Our reckoning is not annulled
By our prosperity

Winter, spring, summer and fall
Will we be diligent?
Or blindly stumble through them all
Pleading entitlement?

Janet

Today's Prompt; Excess

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-12

In His Service

Let not the measure of my love
Be vainly-scripted platitudes
But let me with my action prove
A heart o’er-flowed with gratitude

In service, humbly let me live
Requesting not of fellowmen
What I am unwilling to give
Or yield unto the God of Heav’n

The army of the Lord is strong
Not of ourselves, but by His might
He lifts us up on His right arm
And guides us through the bitter fight

The day is evil, yet we stand
His armor can endure the foe
Though fiery darts may sweep the sand
Secure, within His grace we go

Lift up those weary feet and sing
His promises have set us free
Beyond this vale of suffering
We are assured of victory


Janet Martin



Dominion and awe belong to Him
Who establishes peace in His heights.
“Is there any number to His troops? Job 25:2-3 NASB

Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. No man that wars entangles himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier. 2 Tim. 2:3-4 KJV

Architect

Selfishness and
laziness
form the framework
of many a
spectacular
excuse:)

Janet~

Bond-age

When the moon, like a silver dollar
Is skimming the crest of the hill
When day slips beneath the horizon
And evening is solemn and still
I feel it steal over my heartbeat
Akin to the gathering of dew
A rush of the past there to greet me
And I know that you feel it too

When twilight becomes the distinction
Dividing what is with what was
Enlarging my scope of reflection
And time’s vast expanse between us
I gather my longing that lingers
And wrap, like a favorite worn cloak
The echo of you through my fingers
Retracing the words that we spoke

When night’s broader shadows have deepened
As heaven and earth coalesce
When all of creation is sleeping
Beneath the pale moonlight’s caress
I feel you steal into my breathing
In whispers of soft azure blue
Infusion of pleasure and grieving
And I know that you feel it too
Yes, I know that you feel it too

J~

Lest We Forget

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-EsMZ1w6nrU

I think this song is fitting, not simply at Christmas
but all year through...lest we forget.

Without Numbers

We add them to count seconds.

They multiply to minutes,

then hours, days,

weeks, months and years;

A sequence of ever increasing history

to total the sum

of one life

and one death

where we step

from this number-bound threshold

into an eternity

without numbers.

Janet~

Rivers

The river of spring as it surges and dashes

Runs silver-gray with lily-pink sashes

The river of summer is placid and calm

Green at the edges; cool blue in its palm

But the rivers of autumn are the tears we have shed

For the gone and forgotten; its waters run red

Janet Martin

Would that I Could...

Oh, would that I could in place of a mile

Hold you closer to me

Oh, would that I could kiss your lips as they smile

In my tender memory

Oh, would that I could be as brave as you, hon

But that will never be

Oh, would that I could as I wish on a stone

Bring you back home to me…

J~

Loving Him (re-post)

Loving him

The most beautiful thing

She has ever done

Wild rivers run

Home-fires glow

Within her soul

At last she knows

She is whole

Dreams spawn

More dreams

'To love and to cherish'

But it seems

These dreams

Will perish

Loving him

Wild rivers run

The most unbearable thing

She has ever done

J~

Remembrance

A gun, a bomb, hatred and loss
Will never set us free
A Son, a tomb, love and a cross
Has sealed our victory

Janet~

Remembering...

He sits on a park-bench, watching the children
Like colored balloons bobbing over the grass
He catches my eye so I sit down beside him
Suddenly hesitant of what I should ask
So I ask him formally, ‘how are you today?’
And I lean toward him as I hear him say,

“I’m thinking today of my buddy named Jim
And reminding myself again why he died
He died for that little girl there on the swing
And the curly-haired lad coming down the slide
Some days I sit and I can’t help but ponder
The heart-breaking price-tag of freedom; the pain,
But then, as I sit here watching the children
I know that my buddies did not die in vain
I come here to pray for the sons and the daughters
That somehow it seems we easily forget
Leaving their homes and their families; their comforts
Because freedom’s battle is not over yet”

Janet Martin

Remembering...

He sits on a park-bench, watching the children
Like colored balloons bobbing over the grass
He catches my eye so I sit down beside him
Suddenly hesitant of what I should ask
So I ask him formally, ‘how are you today?’
And I lean toward him as I hear him say,

“I’m thinking today of my buddy named Jim
And reminding myself again why he died
He died for that little girl there on the swing
And the curly-haired lad coming down the slide
Some days I sit and I can’t help but ponder
The heart-breaking price-tag of freedom; the pain,
But then, as I sit here watching the children

I know that my buddies did not die in vain

I come here to pray for the sons and the daughters

That somehow it seems we easily forget

Leaving their homes and their families; their comforts

Because freedom’s battle is not over yet”

Janet Martin

Sonnet of Winter (for the kids;)

Reluctant, defeated, autumn succumbs

To winter’s purposed and powerful grip

Stealthily sleek, silver silencing numbs

The ends of our noses and fingertips

Harshly the wind rakes its talons of steel

Over the cusp of the leafy-fringed ponds

Somewhere up yonder it touches a wheel

Showering the earth with quadrillion diamonds

Winter ah, winter, the predisposed foe

Open your pockets and bring on the snow

Pull out your mittens and dust off your sled

Bundle your babies in jackets of fleece

Starry-eyed children with cheeks painted red

Shrieking and rolling in winter’s release

Frosty the snowman returns to his post

Corn pipe and blue scarf to ward off the chill

Miniature angels in unnumbered hosts

Cover the rooftop and valley and hill

Tumbling and twirling and spiraling down

Winter returns in her star-studded gown

Spring, summer, autumn, green, azure and gold

Planting and pruning and gathering harvest

Winter is pure white, and brings with the cold

A season of quieting and of rest

Gather your loved ones around the warm hearth

Warmer is love when the fretting winds blow

Winter is keeping the seed in the earth

Warming its bed with a blanket of snow

Its days are as numbered as all other things

Winter; the glorious harbinger of spring

Janet Martin

oops, it began snowing as I wrote this. I hope I didn't jinx the weather.

Victoria just got home and she is so excited because it snowed for a little bit...
I wrote this for her:)

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/11/thursday-think-tank-74-winter.html

Poverty-stricken

Desperately poor are we who who live

Driven by hunger for things

Desperately poor, who do not give

Blinded by selfish wanting

Desperately poor; the heart, cold, vile

Turning a stone-deafened ear

To the anguished cry of mother and child

With no food or clothes to wear

Desperately poor are we who seek

Treasure of moth-eaten strings

Desperately poor, as fool-hearted thieves

Bound by the striving for things

Desperately poor, the heart enslaved

To temporal pearls of sod

Desperately poor are we who serve

Our things in place of God

Janet Martin

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-10#comments


http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/11/when-you-are-in-desperate-need-of-hope/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HolyExperience+%28Holy+Experience%29

November's Wind

Tonight with sullen scowl it strips

The gold leaf from the limb

Tonight with cold and puckered lips

It churns the clouds of heav’n

Tonight the shiv'ring moon is dull

And teardrops lash the dark

As every ragged ditch is full

Of Autumn’s waning spark

Tonight it preys outside the door

And moans against the sash

Tonight, across a ghostly shore

Its howling billows crash

Tonight it weeps in sobs of gray

Across earth’s barren form

A sorrowful soliloquy

A bold and empty storm

Tonight the landscape is a floor

The wind a ruthless broom

It heaves down every corridor

And into every room

It sweeps in vile abandonment

The orchard and the vine

Across the muted continent

Without thought or design

Tonight we tuck the little child

Between warm quilts of down

And though the brooding wind is wild

And every leaf far-blown

It cannot chill the firelight

Where thoughts and memories flow

We hold our loved ones close tonight

And let the north wind blow

Janet Martin

The wind is raging and howling tonight...

Hang onto your hats and grab a coat before heading out.

Or, stay home by the fire, hold a loved one and keep warm.

In the Eye of the Beholder #2

In the eye of the Beholder

We slip and stumble along

In the eye of the Beholder

We are never all alone

In the eye of the Beholder

We deny our acts of shame

In the eye of the Beholder

He calls each of us by name

In the eye of the Beholder

There is nothing left to prove

In the eye of the Beholder

We are known and we are loved

Janet~

As I read the title of the previous poem another thought occurred...

He rules by his power for ever; his eyes behold the nations: Psalms 66:7

In the Eye of the Beholder

It takes time to grow a tree

Into a thing of beauty

Beauty is a rare blossom in youth

But blooms rampantly in the aged

It takes both sun and rain

Dark and light

To create beauty

Attractiveness is often mistaken for beauty

Beauty sleeps in a bud

Unfolding in life’s storms

Into a glorious bloom

Beauty is found, not only in the art

But the artist

Beauty has nothing to do with flawless skin

Or a six-pack

Beauty is the divine interpretation of life

Beauty is a century-old smile

To be able to see beauty in ruins

One needs to be beautiful

Janet~

This or That?

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

To Sleep or Write

I should sleep tonight

Draw the blankets up beneath my chin

And close my eyes

But then I cannot write

There is a restless stirring deep within

Sleep is for the wise

To Work or Shirk

Duty is a tireless employer

Reluctant to ease its stance

Its reins too taut for wandering

Or pausing to whirl and dance

The wind tugs my hand from its toiling

And lures me with its rebel-dare

Will anyone notice my absence

As I chase a dream through the air?

To Lust or Love

I trace your body with a hungry gaze

You wink; the spark ignites to a blaze

But lust is a devil in an angel’s disguise

The attraction is gone when the fire dies

Love is constant; not something we do

Its garb is quite humble, but it is true

Love is patient, honest and kind

It satisfies both body and mind

To Persevere or Quit

I want to quit

My Muse is gone

But the one who wins

Is the one who keeps on…

To Dance or Die

To stop hurting or reaching

Or working or teaching

Or learning or giving

Is to stop living

To stop dancing

Is to die

Janet Martin

The Living Dead

Amelia has prayed and pleaded and cried

For somehow the Charlie she knew has died

She holds him close when the dark thunder rolls

There are no words with power to console

Or wipe the scenes from his tormented mind

For where Charlie goes, she remains behind…

The shades are drawn to subdue the daylight

But they cannot shade the mind from his plight

The sun is warm with scent of pinewood

He shivers, inhaling the stench of blood

Lassie waits, eager for Charlie to play

Her master is home, it’s a perfect day

He lifts his arm; suddenly he braces

For the explosion of grenades and faces

Lassie looks back, trying to understand

Why Charlie won’t throw the toy in his hand

But she does not hear the planes distant hum

Or marching feet to the beat of a drum

She cannot see the horror-stricken tears

Of mangled and wounded as gun-smoke clears

Her skin does not ache with memories of blood

Covering the earth in a sickening flood

He cannot see rippling wheat fields, blue skies

Darkened by images burned in his eyes

The woods, once tranquil and sweet with romance

Speak only of fear in his haunted trance

Memories of lying in its cool dark shade

Are frames of terror as history is made

When they told her he made it, Amelia cried

Now she still weeps for her Charlie has died

Janet Martin

http://margoroby.wordpress.com/2011/11/08/painting-poems-tuesday-tryouts/

Holy Mystery

God, before Time’s charted span

Jesus, who took on flesh, as man

Spirit, to dwell in humanity

Three in One, how can this be?

Janet Martin

November's poem-a-day challenge...

To write a 'normal' or a 'paranormal' poem.

from Wikipedia...

Paranormal is a general term (coined ca. 1915–1920^[1][2]) that designates experiences that lie outside "the range of normal experience or scientific explanation"^[3] or that indicates phenomena understood to be outside of science's current ability to explain or measure.^[1][4] Paranormal phenomena are distinct from certain hypothetical entities, such as dark matter and dark energy, only insofar as paranormal phenomena are inconsistent with the world as already understood through empirical observation coupled with scientific methodology.^[5]

A Prayer for Life

Take my hand, dear Lord, I pray

You will never lead astray

In life’s pathways there are two

Let my footsteps follow You

Kindly Shepherd of us all

Hold me so I will not fall

Let my thought and action prove

The indwelling of Your love

Teach my lips to sing Your praise

Through the battle and the blaze

Satisfy my spirit Lord

As I feed upon Your word

Be my glory and my boast

Be the wisdom I crave most

Fix my earth-dimmed gaze to trust

In true Hope beyond this dust

Lift me up when I am weak

Temper every word I speak

Savior, Father, Jesus, Friend

Keep me ‘til my journey’s end

Janet

Remembering Forever

The rhythmic swish of the dark ocean waves

Conceals the horror of uncharted graves

The warm dappled sunbeam sparkles and leaps

Over lost tombs in decade-pleated deeps

Across whitewashed sands carefree children run

Where once lay man with a prayer and a gun

As shell-fire and smoke and bloody tears fell

Bathing the shore in red rivers of hell

Nostrils burning with the grim stench of death

Time; precious yearning in every breath

As hatred and love and grief are laid bare

In volleys of terror piercing the air

Delirium offers tormented bliss

Twixt strident reality and her kiss

The rise and pitch of after and before

Launches the dying to a one-man war…

There is no glory in war; it may seem

As if its stories are simply a dream

Though they may emit a teardrop subdued

Or feelings of anguish and gratitude

Can we reignite what seems to be lost?

An appreciation for freedom’s cost

Across white-washed sands happy children run

Freedom’s banner gently blows in the sun…

Janet~

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

Lady Dawn

She nudges the dark and it recedes

Like a spineless coward toward the shadows

Or does it melt, helpless and wanting beneath her touch?

She softens the horizon line

Etching the night with a pale, gauze ribbon

Pushing aside its heavy robe and kissing it with silver dew

Soundlessly, effortlessly she overtakes

The force of the deepened sky in wild exultation

For Lady Dawn waits for none; and the night can never resist her

J~