Love ABC'c

Love answers

Love bends

Love cares

Love defends

Love encourages

Love forgives

Love gives and gives

Love honors

Love inspires

Love is joy

Love is kind

Love listens and lets go

Love is a miraculous mystery

Love says no

Love offers

Love praises

Love quiets

Love remains

Love suffers

Love teaches

Love understands

Love is victorious

Love waits

Love X-amines

Love yields

Love is pure, unselfish zeal

© Janet Martin

While love ought to be the underlying element in everything we do

I try to devote a little more attention to it in the 'month of love':)

Omnipotent

In every breath my Lord is there

although we cannot see His face

His glory rends robes of despair

and startles evil with His grace

Before the universe, He was

Before this little gasp called Time

He is; and love’s each sinner thus

in passions holy, pure, sublime

A thousand-thousand times each star

His acts of mercy intercede

He whispers from within our hearts

to fill love's everlasting need

Though fear and doubt afflict, assail,

their darkness cannot over-power

the Love and Light that rend its veil

before Eden’s dejected hour

In every breath my Lord is there

though fools and scoffers mock in scorn

His glory fills the atmosphere

and renders peace amidst life's storm

© Janet  Martin

Options...

He does not ask of us, some grand

Unreachable request

He simply graces hearts and hands

Then longs to see our best

Before our feet touched down today

We passed no written test

But soon enough our lives will say

If we give it our best

He who gives, does not require

But if we would be blessed

It is prudent to aspire

To give to Him our best

This life is a buffet of choice

Within each choice, a test

But there is a soft inner voice

To help us do our best

He does not ask of us some grand

Unthinkable request

He simply graces hearts and hands

Then longs to see our best

© Janet Martin

Hints

It tunes the timbre of the breeze

A lilting undertone

It taunts the jeweled arm of trees

And bulb of anemone

It warms the frozen ray of sun

And tickles dashing streams

It teases darkness from the dawn

And from despair, fresh dreams

It pleads within cold, willing gales

Softening with hope

The fury rushing over vales

In frigid calliope

And in the frozen atmosphere

An essence, though unseen

Cradles and fills the heart with cheer

And thoughts of budding green

It rustles in the underbrush

Across the stricken earth

It hints within the argent hush

A season of rebirth

What is this sense of grand renewal

Beyond us, hovering?

Why, it is winter’s finest jewel

Those first small hints of spring

© Janet Martin

Yes, it is there! I felt it while hanging out laundry this morning...

Heaven's Hope

Cobalt, pewter

Low-flung sky

Resists the hour of day

Golden whisper

Threads dark lines

And melts its grasp away

Worry, sorrow

Heavy heart

Resists the power of trust

Heaven’s whisper

Reassures

And hope fills empty cups

© Janet~

It seemed as if the heavy cloud resists the dawn today...
...slowly the cobalt veil recedes and the gold line expands!
One cannot stop the Light, It will have the final say.
After all, these are powers far beyond our hands

Angels Among Us...or The Unsung Heroes

They should have shelves,

no, monumental showcases 
burgeoning with trophies and medals

in honor of their services and heroism.

Instead, they are quite obscure,

sorting through heads of cauliflower

or bunches of bananas at the super-market.

They hunch beneath umbrellas,

disappearing through ordinary doorways

to invisible mission-fields.

Who are they?

They are the care-givers

of beautiful special-needs souls

placed into life with afflictions devoid of explanation,

simply need;

the basic, never-ending needs requiring faithful hands

to bathe, feed, teach,

lift, hug, pamper
and clean countless messes.

They are the voices talking,

soothing, praising, singing,

weeping and praying.

They remain,

driven by a law beyond human reasoning

and strengthened by a force beyond human understanding;

Love.

No glory or applause waits for them

at the end of their day,

simply weariness and the promise

that as long as life continues so will need.

And thus they quietly continue,

never seeking adulation

but diligently seeking

hope, patience, strength;

planting joy in gardens

witnessed by God alone.

Beneath their touch broken flowers bloom.

Faithfulness will be their legacy.

Heartache hones their beauty,

astonishing in its rare form

of work-worn hands and tear-tender eyes.

There will never be a hall of fame

for those who teach an autistic child to say mama.

There are no grand-stands

filled with cheering fans

as strong arms steady weak, trembling bodies

endeavoring to take a first step.

There are no banners waving in celebration

because Peter finished a whole serving of applesauce

or Mary learned to read her printed name.

But there are crowns of glory held in waiting,

unfathomable

in the richness of their reward.

Someday God will reach down,

lift these angels from earth

and restore them to Heaven.

‘Well done’, He will declare,

‘you have completed your mission.

You have taught my precious servant-child

to trust fully in me.

Because of you they will receive many rewards

and will hear these blessed words,

‘well done my good and faithful servant.

Enter into the rest prepared for you’

Yes, there truly are angels among us,

teaching God’s children how to love

and leading them ever closer to Him.

Dedicated to all the angels with Down’s syndrome, Autism, Alzheimer’s, Cerebral Palsy and many other afflictions to countless to number, and of course, to their beautiful, angels-in-waiting caregivers.

Janet Martin

Winter Thaw

The Snowmen...a week later;(

No gold complexion
warms the kitchen table
Only gray
A nondescript pall
hovering morbidly
against the day
without soft wind-song
filtering
through winter's tree
but just a sodden
drip-drip-drip
as earth swallows a sea
of melted snowflakes
in its mouth
and gripping winds recoil
Who is this maiden
from the south
perplexing winter's toil?

Janet~

The Heartless Thief; Alzheimers

Teardrops well

In her pale, blue eyes

She was going to tell

Us stories

Of when she was a girl

And a youthful sparkle returns

From a tender world

As she recalls that day

For a brief, splendid moment

Before it slips away

And she grasps vainly

For memories; Fading,

behind her eyes…

…little bits of colored ribbon

Floating to the skies

Janet~

Hush...

There are no seasons here

Dark spruce pillars

Guard the entrance

To russet halls

Lowering shadows to the earth

Closing out the world

As we know it

Spring, summer, autumn, winter

A neutral plateau

Of pine-drenched bliss

Come heat or snow

In here

A day is a year

Or a year is a day

Time is inconsequential

But for the squirrel

Stowing its fruit

In untold, lofty hideaways

Weather is annulled

Beneath a canopy of evergreen dusk

The elements do not venture

To the darker recesses

Of nature’s living-room

It is just us

Two dwarfed wanderers

In a world of giants

Ah, surely we are standing

On sacred ground

Centuries rooted in centuries

And the little sapling asks.

‘How long Mother,

until I am as tall as you?’

And she replies, a wind-soft ‘hush,

do not be in such a rush.

There is so much more to us

than eye can see

It takes patience and God

to grow a tree’

I look at you and smile,

You nod

and whisper

‘Let’s stay awhile’…

J~

I needed to stroll through this painting one more time!

Requiem

                                                                          Ivan Shishkin 

We come here to drink silence                           

flavored with the sigh

of pine-breeze and musk

on a cushion of centuries

quiet, we lie
to think

gazing at towers

of burnished rust

testimonies of endurance

in shadows dense and cool

we reach with thirsty eyes

but we cannot behold

dark-fingered pinnacles
brushing the lowered skies

as they sway and pirouette

like sailors on storm-ridden seas

or drunken marionettes
without their faculties

instead we see shadows

entwined against the bark

of children, they disappear

beyond the jaded dark

but in here
they live agelessly

nourished by the ethereal moan

of lithesome breeze
and wood thrush

sleeping with the undertone

of countless centuries

and we return
to drink the wine

of solitude and rest

flavored with the tears of pine

and echoes of the past
beneath the testimony of a seed
we sense the timeless glimpse of Him
who furnishes our hope and need
He walks here, in nature's requiem

Janet~

 http://margoroby.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/into-place-tuesday-tryouts/

To the Poets

It is hard…

…to swallow those words

unwritten,

as they burn in our chest

but life bars us from ink sometimes

yet, love heeds its request

for need and duty steal our hands

and lips must smile

in spite

of unshed thought

burning our eyes

in words we long to write

but know they slip

into the mist

never to return

for inspiration is like this

a sudden poem

yearns

to see the light of day before

dissolving in thin air

and no one but the poet sees

it slowly disappear

and no one but a poet knows

that sorrowful good-bye

of words un-penned

drifting away

into the hollow sky

Janet~

Mary commented on how she has not been 'around' as much as she would choose

without time to read or write, due to...life. I felt her unspoken acceptance...

We've all been there, but love quiets and fills in our lives what nothing else can

and as for all the 'lost poems' . They are caught in those sudden half-breaths when love is so astounding

we don't know what to say...

A Child's Visage

Her mouth is full of yes and yes

Her day, a dreamer’s vast canvas

Her eye, not predisposed to doom

Her mind, a grand enchanted room

Failure has not snuffed fantasy

nor dulled the gleam; Melancholy

has never pressed her spirit down

She is a butter-fly, wind-blown

…and shadows melt beneath her dance

Life is a ball-room, breath a chance

and hope, a diamond in her smile

How sweet it is to be a child

Oft midst life’s turbulent melee`

their laughter sets our spirits free

wakening the courage in our core

to free our inner child once more

Janet~

I was inspired by watching my daughter as she waited for the bus.

 http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2012/02/think-tank-thursday.html

Dark, Strong and Beautiful

 

 Ivan Shishkin

They are dark and strong and beautiful

If you look closely you will see

Jagged lines etched into the bark

The hand of time must have its way

I need to be there, now more than ever

Inhaling the scent of ivory spring and aqua-velva

The rush of the wind has not changed its song

Longing and need as keen now as then

The headiness of youth lies in the musky underbrush

But I prefer the passion of maturity and experience

A sapling cannot be impatient and youth cannot have it all

A branch snaps beneath our feet; your arms encircle me

They are dark and strong and beautiful

If I look closely I will see

The jagged lines etched into your bark

Time stops; it cannot always have its way

Janet~

Margo Roby's Prompt; A place

 https://margoroby.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/into-place-tuesday-tryouts/

Dark Winter Night

Not one star ventures out tonight

To grace its black lapel

The silence is a mantle; white

Its breath a low, drawn knell

The moon retreats to chambers veiled

Or closes its lone eye

No silhouette of pine impaled

Against the heavy sky

Birch skeletons flaunt ivory arms
Boldly against the deep
But there are none to see her charms
The whole world lies asleep

Tonight the Muse has lost her spark

She has no words to say

Methinks perhaps it is too dark

And she has lost her way

Janet~

Beyond this Battle

Hold our hands, we cannot see

Beyond the steps we take

God, be our steadfast surety

For You make no mistake

And oh, we are so prone to stray

As pastures beckon, come

Be our Captain through the fray

Guide this battalion home

The unknown is a gaping void

Of misery and fear

Hope would swiftly be destroyed

Without Your Presence near

But as we feel Your tender touch

Sustaining faithfully

We do not need to fear so much

The things we cannot see

The fight is not forever Lord

The hour is at hand

When we will leave our temporal swords

In plough-shares made of sand

Oh God, it seems we see You etched

Against the setting sun

Into the trenches, arms out-stretched,

We hear You calling come

…and so we press toward Your arms

The battle is not done

This world with all its empty charms

Is but the stepping-stone

A plot of dirt on which we stand

Reaching in humble trust

To hold Your gracious out-stretched hand

Your glory to our dust…

The victory banner waves on high
Beyond this tear-stained plight
Hold our hands and be our Guide
Within the thickest fight
Through enemy lines we will forge
The battle is not long
Hold our hands and lead us, Lord
Oh, keep your warriors strong


 Janet Martin

I saw the movie War Horse last night.

The final scene touched me immensely...

A picture of  weary, wounded warriors coming home.

A Moody Morning Photo Collage...

Moody Sky Haiku

Cantankerous sky

Mouth open wide, full sun smile

Returns to sealed lips

Janet~

I’m cleaning windows and trying to decide if it’s a  ‘hang out my laundry’ day...

The sun appears, to disappear.

After-dawn Haiku

The sky slipped upward

Lifting her bronze morning gown

Naked dirt fields weep

Janet

Morning Haiku

The sky fell at dawn
Metallic, molten fabric
On a frozen field

Janet~

Poemlets on Life...

We cannot drink from Time’s clear-water streams

Or build magic bridges to get to our dreams

We can tilt back our heads catching moments that slip

From the sky to the tree, from the tree to our lips

Tasting each drop as it melts on our tongue

Seeds for the dreamer or notes for a song

***

Life is a garment of pockets it seems

Some filled with promise and others with dreams

If sorrow has spilled from life’s pocket today

We know that joy is one seam-width away

Janet~

Days Like This...

Mama said there’d be days like this…

You know, the ‘pushing water up-hill’ kind of day

But just like the frolicking laughter days pass

So too, the double-trouble days will slip away

Over the edge of the western sky-line

The bag and baggage of it disappears

Only to be remembered as ‘that was the day’

As we recall the highs and the lows of life’s years

And for all we know, someday looking back

Remembering again this day we had

We will simply shake our heads and laugh

Saying it really wasn't all that bad

Was it the Wayward Wind?

Oh, was it in the wayward breeze

That spun its laughter through the hush

Where whitewashed lattice-work of trees

Submitted to God’s startling brush?

Or was it in that perfect snowflake

Dangling for a wee half-grin

On the lash 'gainst Nature's cheek

Before passive oblivion…?

Was it in the music trickling

From the snow-brushed altitude,

Or in the somnolent caressing

Of God’s fingers on cold wood?

…or in the melody of winter

Strumming silver notes of mirth

In a sweeping, tangent love-song

To the frozen tides of earth

But suddenly a breath of wonder

Lodged its teardrop in my throat

As I stood upon time's splendor

Earth's bedraggled overcoat

…caught in the trance of moments falling

Into past’s expanding sea

Invisible; yet full and rolling

Waves unfathomed beneath me

And here I am, briefly suspended

On life’s fragile thread of grace

Was it the wayward wind that opened

Up my eyes to see His face?

Janet

Thoughts while I was out skiing…

I felt like a one man army crashing through perfect, pristine fields and snow-brushed stillness…

 Praise the LORD from the earth,
   you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,

lightning and hail, snow and clouds,
   stormy winds that do his bidding,  Ps. 148: 7-8

Whispers

There is a song that I would like to hear
once more, my dear with you
but death is long; life short I fear
for all we seek to do
Time and miles in silent smiles
may weave their  latent chain
Creating the impression of
faint shadows on the wind ...
....a wisp of everything that might have been

In every hour a small eternity
of thoughts and wishes bleed

I do not have the power, dear
to withdraw hope from need

And when the night of pale moonlight
is low and long and and deep
I write those things that I must write
in memories to keep

…the echo of those things that might have been

Time marks our footprints on the sands
of silent history

With every heartbeat tugging strands
of present-tense from me

Directing our feet forward
While our eyes should do the same

But in the midnight portal
I hear echoes breathe my name

…and speak of everything that might have been

Everything that might have been,
Dear love, may yet still be

The whisper of tomorrow’s hymn
 A begging mystery

And so the song I want to hear
In retrospect still plays

Across the dark blue atmosphere
A thousand yesterdays

…extol a melody of things to be

J~

Poemlets and such...

Expectation without example

Is a tough act to follow

A life well-lived

Is lived in moments
An unfulfilled life
Is a quiet torment

Fake your knowlesge
If you must

Wisdom cannot
Nor can trust

Dare to love recklessly

There is nothing to lose

But chance
Dare to live fully
Just close your eyes
and dance

In well-doing

We do well

Placing trust

In a perpetual liar

Is like trusting thin ice

Next to a fire

Moments are pennies

Hours are dimes

Little is much

In multiple times

Dig deep

When burying grudges

Walk carefully

Between lines of gossip

We are never too wise

For life’s school

Or too educated

For the Golden Rule

Thought

Shapes desire

Desire

Shapes action

Action

Shapes lives
And lives
Shape history
History shapes
What we know
...what we know
shapes thought...

I think I know...
I love you!


Janet~

Well of Learning

 image source; superpunch.blogspot.com 

Tis an ever-deepening well

This well of ‘things to learn’

Years do not seem to fill

The void; instead I yearn

To know more now then I did then

In blithesome, carefree years

Where I presumed ‘now’ would be when

The thirst would disappear

Because I would have learned the breadth

Of what there is to know

But all that I have learned instead

Is that I’m learning slow

And the more I learn I see

The less I know to tell

And what remains still to be learned

Is an ever-deepening well

Janet~

The Coldest Cold

They use words like ‘family’ and ‘home’

He blows on his cold coffee, blinking hard

And pretends he is not listening

While the hollowness expands in his soul

Laughing, they gather mittens and scarves

Chatting incessantly through lingered farewells

Of ‘see you soon’ and words like ‘friend’

He has never known their warmth nor they his depth of bitter cold

His cold cannot be soothed by mittens or scarves

Even the box that he calls home is warm

In comparison to the chilling agony in his soul

As an eternal echo weeps alone, alone, alone

Oh, he’s known a family of sorts, gathered around

The warming stove of an old rubbish bin 

But its members come and go, or die

And they all suffer the plight of an unbearable chill

Once a passing gentleman yelled ‘God loves you, son’

Tossed him a coin and patted himself on the back

Returning to the comfort of home-fires, behind closed doors

While outside the chill grew deeper, freezing the tears in his soul

Janet~

To my Child...because of Grace

http://free-extras.com/images/the_holy_bible-2880.htm; image source

How do I teach you everything you need to know
Before time tugs you into its perpetual flow
And you sail away into the vast unknown
Without me
but not alone…

How do I reach beyond my mountain of failures
asking you to forgive ,as tears flow in silent rivers
down my face
and I would lie down, unable to continue
if not for grace…

How do I teach you, when I, still in the middle of learning
realize that even now as moments pass, there is no returning
to undo the done
but simply to breathe a new breath of grace,
to trust and carry on

All red and wrinkled you were placed in my arms; in my heart
forever, time and distance cannot pull us apart
so it is with love; and God will not spare
His grace to us
It is everywhere

How do I teach you to see Him in life’s twists and turns
as every fiber in my being yearns
for more time; But there will never be enough
time to empty earthen vessels
of this thing called love

And even as I hold you, I feel you slipping away
and there are so many things I cannot find the words to say
and so I pray for strength, wisdom, and oh,
how to tell you what is most important
before you go

How do I help you to see past my erring example, dear child
to the Perfect Example that will never fail; the divine Guide
He does not lead us wrong
and by His grace we trust
and we are strong

How do I teach you, my precious child, to live precariously
through Him, trusting blindly, loving fully,
forgiving freely
and knowing that in every unknown
you are not alone

How can I teach you that His Word is an ever-abiding
faultless beacon; the true Light when deciding
against the advice of the world
for it is base, self-seeking
and cold

How do I open my arms far enough to let you go
and yet folded permanently holding you close
…so close that I feel you everywhere
because of grace, God's grace
and prayer…

Janet~

inspired by: http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/01/what-a-parent-wants-to-say-before-a-child-leaves/

Albino Sky

Albino heavens reach to earth
Blending with winter’s argent girth
No stark horizon-line revealed
To separate the sky from field

The sun, a wan and sickly orb
Cannot penetrate the robe
That spreads its colorless attire
Across a dormant atmosphere

The statue of a stalk or tree
Scribbled upon earth’s frozen sea
Is nature’s verdict indicating
Life beneath this pale shroud waiting

Transient scope of veiled illusion
Dull and tuneless inter-fusion
Frustrates mortal’s pleading eye
As earth amalgamates with sky

Janet Martin

Every so often in the winter we get a day
When earth and sky are exactly the same shade…

Little Day

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/


Where do you go and how little day?
Translucent feet touching earth’s fringe far away
as golden sun flames in a coral sea
Permeable moments of serenity
born, yet swift as a breath is exhaled
gone; frozen, impaled on history’s field
shocks decking a luminescent hill
Where anguish and ecstasy bond mutual soil
And a new day startles the dark’s solemn girth
In fresh potential of misery or mirth

Janet~

The Little Brown Nest

Tucked in the crux of an old maple limb
A little brown cup built of mud and twigs,
Its only décor, little bits of string
Plucked from the grass or a wild-flower sprig
The little nest waits for the odes of Spring
And mother robin to come home again

Soon its dirt palm will be jeweled with blue
Though now an ice chamber for snowflakes to hide
Nature will smile; their dazzling rendezvous
Melting away beneath spring’s welcome tide
Fear not little robin; your nest still a-waits
For springtime to garnish its rusty old gates

Tucked in the crux of an old maple tree
The little brown cup weathers winter’s stiff gale
It has endured many a malady
And soon the threat of their boasting will pale
Then it will be filled with wee birdies to sing
Cheer-a-lee, cheer-a-lee to this wee nest and Spring

Janet~

We can only see this nest in the winter. It is concealed by leaves in every other season, but as autumn strips the tree bare we see...it is still there!

Baby's Lullaby

http://chestofbooks.com ~Picture source:


Hush little birdie
Asleep in your nest
Hush, little zephyr
Blowing from the west
Hush, little buttercup
Closing your mouth
Twilight is folding
East, west, north and south

Hush little puppy-dog
Children must sleep
High in the meadow
Doze wooly white sheep
Hush, little wind-chime
And hush, hurried feet
Baby is tired
And baby is sweet

Hush, little wave-lap
That kisses the shore
Soon you’ll be back
In the ocean once more
Hush, little fairy-land
Far, far away
Baby will visit you
Some other day

Hush-a-bye little girl
Hush, little boy
We’ll sail to dream-land
On moon-ships, ahoy
Hush little baby
And fly away, fly
Dreamland is waiting
In this lullaby

Janet~

Between the Betweens

Between all the hard moments
Of worry and stress
Between the thrills and the spills
…and loneliness
Between reaching and teaching
And stumbling along
I trace the lines to our favorite song
…and I sing

Between disappointment
And doing what’s right
Between early morning
And the stroke of midnight
I hear you whisper
Thoughts scrawled on the air
And it stirs within me
A wish and a prayer
…and I pray

Between the sensation
Of more than thin air
Creeping across the
Dark blue atmosphere
Between moments without you
I press to the dream
For the moment that comes
Between all the betweens
…and I smile

J~

How Does One Pass a Snow Day?

Sonnet of Winter (re-post)

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 in
Winter is white bringing with the sharp cold
A season of rest and of quieting
Gather your loved ones around the warm hearth
Kinder is love when the fretting winds blow
Winter is keeping the seed in the earth
Tucking its bed with a blanket of snow
Its days are as numbered as all other things
Winter; the glorious harbinger of spring

Janet Martin

Today has the air of a first snowfall...and its the end of January!

Momentary Weaknesses

In momentary weaknesses
Truths slip
That we would never express
With words from our lips

In momentary weaknesses
Truths are revealed
As they slip from the masks
Behind which they are concealed

Truth needs no adjectives
It speaks its own part
In momentary weaknesses
It exposes the heart

J~

Provocation of a Thought

He is wild, like a raging bull
Dust rising soundlessly
Yet, I feel the pull
Of the ground trembling
Violently
For he is on the next street
But
All I can see
Is the golden mist
Of a mirage I am certain
Surely
Exists


J~

The Provocation of a Cloud

Someone provoked the cloud, perhaps
Or popped the cork of heaven’s flask
Releasing to each dark outline
A scarf of silver crystalline
Clothing the stark and begging limb
With diamonds for its diadem

Someone took pity on the day
A mirthless canvas, cold and gray
And dropped from palettes in the sky
A haunting robe to lure the eye
Beyond earth’s labored barrenness
To heavens pure, peaceful caress

Someone with a translucent brush
Has stilled the moan of winds that rush
Through midnights cold and empty dell
To fill its gaping, hollow shell
With whispers of an angels wing
A soft and downy covering

Janet~

Crackers...

The big, black night is a hole in the wall

Through which every day gently slips

I tried, but I guess I am too small

So I lay me down to sleep

The big, black night is a pillow for all

But somehow when I lay down my head

It is not slumber, but whispers that fall

In the colors of love’s tangled thread

The big black night is a shoulder dark, broad

The world leans against it in rest

While you lean against every beat of my heart

Leaving nothing, but a void in my chest

The big black night tugs its hem to the ground

The earth is a grand, king-size bed

I’ve never slept in a bed that is round

Do you prefer crackers…or bread?

J~

H-m-m-m-! I think I'll have a saltine for my bed-time snack.

G'night~

A Poem...

Write me a poem
Write to me of summer
Ocean beaches
Coming home
And write to me of
Soft warm lips
To greet me at the door
Where cold and troubled waters slip
To far and distant shores
Write me a poem
Of whispers and desire
As winter and its storm
Are overcome by the fire
In our eyes
In our touch
In finger-tips
As they meet
While poorly made bargains
Melt like slush in the street…

J~

The Invisible Everything...

It is nothing I can hold
Yet it is everything I hold
It is love~

J~

Lord, Make Me Greedy...

Lord make me greedy…
for the hugs and kisses
and words and prayers
of my family
Lord, make me greedy
for their thoughts and their touch
and never ever say I’ve had enough
Lord, make me greedy in my desire
To give more than I need
Lest my need turn self-indulgent
and be nothing more than...greed

Janet

This I Know...

I do not know
How it is that each rose unfolds
In pure and flawless splendor
Or how an infinity of planets
Exists beyond our visage
A glorious mystery, uncharted
I do not know
How it is that you are far from me
Yet ache in every heartbeat
Or how waters flow unceasingly
Yet its source is not depleted
I do not know what brings the robin
To its nest in the same tree
Or how a world beneath the ocean
Can exist in untainted beauty
I do not know
How many days remain to tread this sod
Or who will be the first to go
But one thing I do know…
I know whom I have believed
And am persuaded that he is able
To keep that which I’ve committed
Unto Him against that day. (2 Tim. 1:12)
I know He is the One True God

Janet~

Undying Need

Lord, give me a need undying
And never let me stray
Nor lean on my understanding
But to need You every day

Lord give me eyes to see You
Within each little flower
To know the Hand that formed its cup
Holds me through every hour

Lord, give me ears to hear you
As nature throbs Your dues
For if You hear a sparrow’s song
Then you will hear mine too

Lord, give me faith to need You
When everything is fine
And never take a single step
Without Your hand on mine

Lord, give me an undying need
To need you every day
Lest in my folly I should lead
And sadly go astray

Janet Martin

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want…Ps. 23

If We Were Sleeping...

They are all asleep
The wise men of market-places
And money-changers
But the night is deep
Filled with mystic faces
And friendly strangers…

…and the cloud on the horizon
Is the softest purple-gray
If I would lay here sleeping
It would simply drift away
Without the admiration
And the whisper of a sigh
Or the memory of a moment
When, against the silky sky
We walked all night long together
You were there and I was here
And if we had just been sleeping
I would not fight back the tear
That glistens in the midnight
Like a star within my eye
While above, on heavens table
Gleams the moon, a silver pie
And the mere handful of minutes
Which expand to full blown hours
Are like daisies in my pocket
When the sky is filled with showers
So I cannot be a wise man
Sound asleep at half-past nine
For the night is far too glorious
And you, my dear, are fine
With the moonlight ‘gainst your olive skin
Your lips against my ear
Oh, it seems that once again
The night is far too short, I fear…

...they are all asleep
the wise men of fortune
or its fantasy
But the night is too deep
and I feel you breathing
somewhere inside of me...

Janet~

The Poet's Child

The poet’s child
has no choice
but is exposed
to the poet’s voice

The poet’s child
is quickly taught
that free and wild
is a poet’s thought

The poet’s child
must oft endure
upon life’s ride
a quick detour…

…because of something
Poet saw
and needed to
inhale its awe

The poet’s child
of lilt and rhyme
knows anytime
is writing time

The poet’s child
soon learns, the Muse
must surely be
paid her full dues

The poet’s child
whether boy or girl
is surely the dearest
(and most patient)
in the world

Janet~

Quatern...Tonight

http://poeticbloomings.com/category/quatern-form/http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

Then let the darkness steal the day
And let it cover up the sky
Darling, it cannot steal away
Love’s timeless sparkle in your eye

Oh, let it lean against the hour
Then let the darkness steal the day
For it does not have the power
To steal our memories away

Then let it swallow up life’s fray
Or spew the stars like silver froth
Then let the darkness steal the day
For it cocoons a golden moth

Darling, we will not haste tonight
Tomorrow, let then come what may
The darkness holds its own delight
Then let the darkness steal the day

Janet~


A Quatern is a sixteen-line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne. It has a refrain that revolves to a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four. A quatern usually has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic, or follow a specific rhyme scheme.

Tonight...

Then let the darkness steal the day
And let it cover up the sky
Darling, it cannot steal away
The tender sparkle in your eye

Then let it lean against the hour
That shifts this day into the past
For it does not have the power
To seize the memories I clasp

Then let it swallow up the moon
Or spew the stars like silver froth
The dawn waits in its veiled cocoon
Unfolding like a golden moth

Then let the darkness steal the day
And brush its failures from my sight
Tomorrow, let then come what may
But darling, let’s not haste the night

Janet~

What He Didn't Know...

He didn’t know that Iowa
Would be more than the goal for his freight
He didn’t know that for the first time
In twenty-five years, he’d be late
He didn’t know as he waved good-by
To the little brown-eyed girl
Or the two men-in-training standing near-by
That he was waving good-by to his world
He didn’t know as he kissed his wife
Then climbed up into his cab
Like he had done many hundred times
Tossing his overnight bag
Into the bunk; his second home
Or his first, as the case often was
He didn’t know his five day trip
Was about to be cut short because
As he shifted through all those gears
Whistling Iowa-bound
He didn’t know he was leaving here
Headed for Higher Ground
And he didn’t know that Iowa
Would be where he drew his last breath
That for an Ontario country boy
It would be the home of his death

Janet~

In memory Brad S.
Passed away Jan. 25, 2012
Age 46
due to a sudden heart attack.

Vision of the Past

Site for picture:http://www.jimfogarty.co.uk/Odd%20Bits%20Page.htm
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

I cannot return to who I was
And even if I could
It wouldn’t be the same
The willow tree with the old rope swing
Is nothing but a lucent limb
Its sigh a page in my memory
A tear in Time’s rushing stream
With the laughter of neighborhood children
Gathered to recline and dream
And the hours, carefree and golden
Slipping heedlessly through Augusts’ glass...
...but now where the proud willow tree once sprawled
There is nothing but wind-blown grass
Where, across its grave the younglings dash
Unaware of its hallowed space
Or the roots beneath decaying to soil
While years mark a woman’s face
Yet still, crystal clear in her mind is a world
And the sound of a young girls cry
‘oh, how I do love to go up in a swing,
Up to the clear, blue sky’

I cannot return to who I was
It wouldn’t be the same, you see
Yet, I am who I am because of who I was
On my way to who I’m going to be…

Janet~

A Child's Lesson in Patience

You can water the flowers
To make them grow
There is nothing to do
But wait; for snow

To catch a fish
You dip a hook in the pond
For snow you wish
Into the blue beyond

Patience, my child
For soon you will say
I wish the snow
Would melt away…

Janet

There is very little snow on the ground, much to the frustration of many children waiting with toboggans, sleds, skis, snow-boards, skates…

As soon as we get a substantial snowfall it is followed by rain.

The use of out-door rinks is finally beginning!