Thursday, February 23, 2012

Sometimes as the dark sky leans over the world...


Sometimes as the dark sky leans over the world
And covers the day with its bowl
 I think of you and an ocean unfurls
Somewhere deep inside my soul

Love lays its tender and torturous grip
Over the ache in my sigh
It traces an image with soft fingertips
Drawing a tear to my eye

Time cannot retract any steps that it takes
The past, an elusive sea
I’ll fill night’s hollow with wishes I make
And love’s tender melody

The wind understands as it echoes my moan
And weeps at the foot of my bed
Somehow the night is much darker alone
As lady-moon covers her head

Sometimes when the dark sky leans over the sea
And smothers the sun with its lips
I hear the thought of you coming to me
And I trace you with soft fingertips

J~


Till Death Doth Part (Wedding Anniversary Poem)


Till death doth part, love’s solemn vow
Pledged oft in untried youth
But it reveals endurance now
In silver-haloed truth

Till death doth part, only God sees
Life’s breadth beneath the sun
As hands join in love’s mysteries
Uniting two in One

Will you be faithful, tender, true
In sickness and in health,
To love and cherish all life through
The other to yourself?

No beauty passes love’s refrains
As life proves words once spoken
Midst smiles and tears love’s vow remains
A pure and priceless token

Till death doth part, oh who can know
When love’s vow must surrender?
As one is called upon to go
Thus severing cords so tender

Till death doth part, oh may it be
And never our undoing
Then oh, what joyful victory
Will comfort teardrops flowing

Name and Name, God bless you
We thank-you Father, Mother
For showing love faithful and true
And always, to each other

Till death doth part, love’s solemn vow
Pledged oft in untried youth
But you reveal its beauty now
In silver-haloed truth

© Janet Martin~

Written for my sister's in-law's who are celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary in March, Lord willing.



Redemption


 Photo Source: http://www.susieharrisblog.com/2011/08/it-is-finished.html

Three words sealed redemption’s plan
And brought eternal hope to man
The veil was rent, its need diminished
As Jesus cried out, ‘It is finished’

Janet~

Fantasical, Magical...Words

Words are such wonderful, magical bits
We never know where they will lead
Combined and arranged until everything fits
Into poems and stories to read

Words are divine and fantastical gems
Strung on the thread of our thought
Twirl them and swirl them and twirl them again
To see what new magic they’ve brought

Words are such pleasant, peculiar things
Their message entirely changed
By shifting their order on translucent strings
Oh, and isn’t it strange…

…how words cut their way to our innermost core
Leaving us utterly stirred
As we search, remember, seek and implore
In the humble medium…of word

© Janet Martin~

Words, words, words, oh the thrill and chill of their might
Painting invisible master-pieces on canvasses of the mind.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Heaven on Earth

Heaven opened up one day and spilled against the earth
Hallowed wonder pouring from a window up above
How else can we explain the joy of a wee baby’s birth?
Holding heaven softly in our humble arms of love

Every morning with the dawn His mercy is made new
Each evening a whisper of Him paints the western sky
Embrace this moment for it is His gift to me and you
Eternity is waiting in a sweeter by and by

Violets and daffodils to herald spring’s glad day
Velvet blue to hold the moon in summer’s warm midnight
Valley, field and hillside flame in autumn’s bold array
Victory crowns the evergreen in winter’s pristine white

Is there a man who can exceed an offering such as this?
Infinite redemption fills mankind with heaven’s worth
If this is not a glimpse Heaven, tell me then, what is?
In God we trust; as heaven spills its shadow on the earth

© Janet Martin


A Trolaan- Hell on Earth


They pose, like crudely painted Barbie dolls
Twilight is a silent cue
The street becomes a tainted shopping mall
That broad daylight hides from view

Hell begins for some before death’s kind grace
Hope, a wretched mockery
Here crawls the lowest form of human race
Hate feeding lust’s misery

Evil steals the child’s right to innocence
Eyes mirror desperate need
Employers trade young lives for petty cents
Enslaved to dead gods of greed

Veiled propriety rises with the dawn
Visage feigns blind ignorance
Violence wears a suit and carries on
Victims seek cocaine deliverance

© Janet Martin

 Poetic Blooming asks us to write a Trolaan.

Trolaan was created by Valerie Peterson Brown, and is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each line of the quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab.
Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write the second; each line beginning with that letter.
On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write the third each line beginning with that letter.
On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write the fourth each line beginning with that letter.

Why this subject?...it exists...under our noses!

My daughters helped a street mission one week-end. Their horror stories are unforgettable. This is one that happens every night. As our youth were introduced to the streets the mission-worker told them what is about to transpire under the cover of darkness.
 

On Hope


Song: Whispering Hope ~

Hope is that Light to which we’re drawn
A thirst in every heart
It is assurances of dawn
When night is deep and dark
To Hope we lift our empty cup
Not in a faithless duty
But knowing Someone fills it up
With heaven’s unseen beauty

Hope breaks through ramparts of despair
And drives its doubt asunder
Hope is the Whisper in the air
That stirs the heart with wonder
Hope does not worry, does not quit
Hope draws us from our slumber
And lifts us from the darkened pit
Hope does not encumber

Hope is that Light to which we’re drawn
An unseen Hand to hold
Hope is the Voice that spurs us on
In spite of what we’re told
Hope is the beckoning of Life
Though tears may dim the eye
Hope makes bearable this strife
For without Hope…we die

© Janet Martin


Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
   whose hope is in the LORD their God. Psalms 146:5





You Might be a Poet if...

Poet's turn off the computer, then turn it back on immediately because they realize one word needs to be changed...and no, it can't wait until morning.

Poets burn the candle at both ends...
...and in the middle too.

Poet's LOVE 'alphabet soup'.

Poets dream...in color!

Poet's motto...Live, laugh, love, write

A poet is someone who does not always see exactly what they are looking at...or for.

The poet's heart is never dull.

Of all the gifts whereby we're blessed
Is not the poet's gift the best?

Janet~

These are the Days

These are the days of lulled complacency
Days of choosing fatal violence
in distorted concepts of
good and evil

These are the days when judgment
is deemed the greater sin
and for which we are
held most accountable

These are the days of free choice
excusing virtue
These are the days of
dark consequence

But for grace, we all would be lost

© Janet Martin

Inspired by these words...

The delicate action of grace in the soul is profoundly disturbed by all human violence. Passion, when it is inordinate, does violence to the spirit and its most dangerous violence is that in which we seem to find peace. Violence is not completely fatal until it ceases to disturb us.    Thomas Merton. Thoughts in Solitude.
as I read them here

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Simple Rules for a Life Well-lived


Love one another
With each gifted breath
Every man is a brother
In the hour of death

Help one another
Be gentle and kind
Always with the other
Foremost in mind

Cheer one another
The language of grief
Is as universal
As comfort’s relief

Care for each other
No matter the creed
We all our humble
Creatures of need

Love one another
For soon we shall be
Sister and brother
For eternity

© Janet Martin

Curtained Portals


How broad the depth of night doth span
Far past this curtained portal
How vague the narrow scope of man
Beneath expanse immortal

Ten-thousand times each cloud’s expanse
Is mankind’s sure damnation
But greater far, Love’s mercy grants
For our debt, salvation

How swift time’s fluid scalpel curbs
Youth’s unrestrained illusion
And sets their feet on higher roads
Of Honor’s wise intrusion

How small is mankind’s mortal hour
How infinite God’s pardon
That He should pluck this lowly flower
To plant in Heaven’s garden

Unfathomed are the astral heights
Unfathomed is His wonder
I set my weak and earth-dimmed sights
On curtained portals, yonder

© Janet Martin

I was listening to the news...and needed to lift my sights higher
than this planet of doom and gloom...

 Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: 
because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.
1 John 4:4(KJV)






Where Have All The Flowers Gone?


Etched against the cerulean sky-line
The desolate, burned-out corpses
Of stately walnut tree and stalwart pine
Mark the graves of warriors and horses

The lacy tress of emerald spire
That stroked summer’s lithesome breeze
In cannon-bursts of blood and fire
Are reduced to scorched centuries

Where have all the flowers gone
That nodded in the calm of tranquil wood?
They mark the tombs of daughters, sons
Laid to rest in pools of gifted blood

Where have all the flowers gone
That bloomed too short, before they died?
They rest within the gardens where
Humbler posies bloom with pride…

…upon the graves of heroes lost
Before conceived deliverance
To grace the tombs of freedom’s cost
Nature replies in reverence

© Janet Martin

In the movie War Horse I was struck at how swiftly
verdant beauty and tranquility was reduced to ashes and blood.

Written for: Poetic Bloomings

Winter's Sleeping Pasture


It sleeps; nestled against the earth;
Beneath shadowy tresses
Where August breath had scorched its girth
The ghost of summer passes
The choristers of feathered throat
Have fled to kinder arches
As winter’s restless whistle strokes
Bizarrely-twisted marshes

Sweat, toil and sores the farmer bears
To plant spring’s barren fallow
But now he rests; he knows the cares
Of labor soon to follow
And on the ledger’s smudgy page
The balance of his losses
Straps to his heart the tortured faith
That succors farmer’s crosses

It sleeps, nestled against the earth
Before the grand renewal
As springtime seeps, in colored mirth
Toward the cusp of April
And every humble stalk is clad
In crystal-gilded vesture
A wild and winsome wonderland
Is winter’s sleeping pasture

Janet~







Monday, February 20, 2012

As Vast as the Unknown Glistening...


As vast as the unknown glistening
On a new day yet untrod
So is the infinite mercy
And grace of our loving God

As wide as the ethereal heavens
In copious pastures of blue
So are the unwavering promises
God gave to me and you

In lengths of transient ribbon
The unknown cloaks the sod
But not one thread escapes the hand
Of our faithful God

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Ethereal Echoes


In the evening she would lean against the pillar of the porch
As nature dropped its chatter like parishioners at church
The breeze ran cooling fingers soft against her pensive stance
And in the gathering twilight how those memories would dance
‘ Oh Mama, watch our somersault’ she sees two little girls
As cotton dresses flew awry with tousled braids or curls
And then her eyes would rest upon nasturtium, lily, rose
The ivy on the south-west wall; how subtly it glows
As noonday sheds maternal warmth in dusty pink and gold
The farmer walked toward her then, his stride youthful and bold
Unlike the creak of wooden planks as now he sits and rocks
While time re-plays before his eyes the ticking of life’s clocks…

…the weathered pride of heaven’s walls charms intrigued passers-by
Pausing to hear time’s clock rewind in nature’s reverent sigh
Frames of a perfect romance lure the wanderer to its door
Hungry for glimpses of the life that played across its floor
But timber seals its creaking lips, eyes stare back silently
Its staid facade a soundless dirge of sweet melancholy
The ivy claws tenaciously against its wooden breast
Beneath a hundred-season sky its longing is caressed
And we are drawn toward the song of hallowed history
Of tumbled lawn, perennial bloom and musing's mystery
Where in the eve she leaned against the pillar on the porch
We gaze with awe-hushed voices like parishioners at church

© Janet Martin

I loved all the pictures but kept returning to this one...
Thank-you Mary-Ann for sharing the wonderful photos!

Photo Prompt at Real Toads

It could work for the previous prompt as well:)

A Little like a Snowfall Haiku


It falls soundlessly
In profound transformation
And then we are old

 
Limbs supple; fruitful
Surrender to time’s wisdom
White crowns youth’s forehead

Back into the earth
Returns all manner of life
A tiny seed stirs

© Janet Martin

White Grace Haiku

In the quiet night
the sky parted her dark lips
exhaling white grace

Deliberate Surrender




Why is it so hard sometimes,
To trust the Hand
that lights the sun,
that paints the earth,
that fills the oceans
And directs the firmaments
That instructs the lightning
and feeds the wild
that stirs the seed
and topples mountains
And cares for me?

© Janet Martin

I watched this little wood-pecker today...
as God provided its needs.



On Suffering

Some are given painful sorrows to bear
Visible burdens of grief
Some carry great crosses deep in their hearts
Where God alone can see

© Janet

 Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us.
Samuel Smiles


Friday, February 17, 2012

Of Valleys and Fathers

I have not walked in your valley
Nor you in mine
But it is the same grace and mercy
That brings the sunshine
Your valley may be longer and darker
Mine may be still yet to come
But it is the very same Father
That leads all of His children Home

Janet Martin

Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Psalms 23

Whispers of Hell


When fiendish winds crackle
And seep through the walls
When anger, resentment
Hang like smoke in the halls
When kindness and patience
Have been snuffed by the flame
Of cold self-indulgence
Indifference and blame
When silence replaces
The echo of laughter
And jealousy graces
The once love-lit rafter
When all that is given
From our gracious Lord
As a foretaste of Heaven
Is crassly ignored
When prayer is neglected
And His Word as well
Then glimpses of Heaven
Become whispers of Hell

© Janet Martin

We all have bad days, but God forbid they out-number the good...
and God forbid we should seek hope without Him~

 But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.”Joshua 24:15

Behind the Gray...

After almost a week of gray...



 We are ready for this! I felt Mozart's Requiem as the sun broke through! Click the wheel on the mouse on link
.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zi8vJ_lMxQI&feature=related


And when at last the clouds pass by
There is no violent shudder
Or grand announcement from the sky
To shout that it is over
The shroud that clothes the lofty spire
In dull and leaden silence
With obscure breath from heaven’s choir
Dissolves in glorious brilliance

© Janet Martin

...and so it is with life.
Behind every cloud is the Son.

  LORD, our Lord,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory in the heavens.Ps. 8:1

Comrades


Slip not your hand in mine to lead
Or with intent to tether
But if you would a comrade be
Then let us walk together

Hold me close, not to restrain
Or as affection’s duty
But may our hearts and hands remain
United in love’s beauty

Slip not your hand in mine to lead
Or with intent to follow
But side by side, together we
Will face life’s mantled hollow

© Janet Martin

Definition of comrade:
  1. A companion who shares one's activities or is a fellow member of an organization.
  2. A fellow soldier or serviceman.



Ethereal Pastures


 I took this photo one morning last summer, across the field behind our house...

They leave
Not all at once
And never entirely
But, from wide-eyed
And apprehensive
Kindergarten child
To the 'standing eye-to-eye child'
They begin leaving
And continue
To leave us
Subtly, swiftly
Moments dissolve
Into years, gathering behind us
In an ethereal mist.
These precious,
Oh so precious
Pieces of ourselves
Are leaving
And sometimes in the happy
Bustle of life
We forget
They are leaving
But only a little at a time
And never
Entirely or
Forever

© Janet Martin

I was thinking these thoughts as I heard our oldest daughter, Emily
leaving early this morning…and my mind wandered through ethereal past.
Where does it go…time? and suddenly I am excited to drink in the present moment
before it too slips away to ethereal pastures.
Then Laurie’s comments at RGMIT which most parents can
relate to, really tied into my thoughts.

Laurie’s prompt: Use the words ethereal

Emily reminded me that she will be twenty in 4 mos.
Twenty years pass incredibly fast!
It reminded me of a Kenny Roger's song... 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Tea Time

It’s that dip in the day
When afternoon slips away
But it is not quite yet eve
When the sharp-tongued wind
Slouches low behind
Another day slowly taking leave
This is cup’o tea hour
This is ‘stop, smell the flower’
This is dream anything that you please
Tangle your thought with mine
No, I really don’t mind
The way that you whisper and tease
I’ll just close my eyes
In a brief paradise
Flavored with hot chamomile
In that dip in the day
As we slip away
And do nothing for a little while

© J~

Even if its just 5 minutes…STOP! Close your eyes
Smell the flowers, or the cookies,
 whatever it is you like to smell ;))

Prayer-lets


It is a frightening thing to live…
…in tomorrow
God, teach me to live fully in today.


I didn’t know what to do
So I prayed
Without prayer
I had nothing
And with it:
I have everything

God bless our home…
…and those without

If I followed Your footprints, Jesus
Would I really choose to go?
The Son of Man had nowhere to lay His head.

The mind is a gathering place
For thought vast as an ocean
God, fill it with Your goodness
And purest devotion

Janet~




Universal Quest


image source: wikipedia


What spurs the soldier onward?
Or the miner in jaws of dirt
What drives the laborer forward?
What adds true worth to our work?
What calls the wayward drifter?
Or the sailor out of the storm
What is this universal quest?
Why, it’s one small syllable-
Home

© Janet Martin

No Other Word Like It


There is no other word quite like it
No matter where our feet may roam
There is no other word that will leave the heart stirred
Like four humble curves spelling home

The world has much wonder to offer
Of foothills and kingdoms to poem
But one square of sod holds the whisper of God
It’s the dear little box we call home

Here lies the spoil of tender-sweet toil
Here is love’s hearth, safe and warm
Here is the cup that family fills up
In a wee little haven called home

Here is a door always open
A solace from life’s heartless storm
The old kitchen chairs glow with laughter and prayers
In a humble respite called home

Here is a poor man’s palace
Here is the small child’s nest
Here is the awning of simple belonging
Here is forgiveness and rest

There is no other place quite like it
Wherever on earth we may roam
None can compare to the brick-mortar square
Of beautiful home sweet home


Janet~

"Home is the most beautiful word there is"
Laura Ingalls~

I found the wall-hanging at our local dollar-store.
Beautiful words at a bargain:) H-m-m-m-m...
can one really put a price on beautiful words...like 'home' and 'family'?
May we never take these wonderful blessing for granted
and may we always give them our utter-best!






Doing Dishes

Because we are the only family left
in North America
without an automatic dishwasher
I get to spend time with my precious children
Every night after supper

This is where
I learn things about their day
I am taken back to teen-age angst
The dilemma's of an on-again-off-again romance
I hear about the elementary woes
of far too-strict principals,
or who got new clothes.
I hear who was suspended
or about a guy named Ipod
We discuss things like music
relationships, God

Sometimes we are just silly
Or I might regale
their compliant ears
with ancient tales
of when their mother was young
and how five plates isn't so bad
or six on weekends
when Dad is home.
because when I was a kid
there were twelve plates to dry
and stacks of dishes at least a mile high
we walked to school and back
(up-hill both ways;)
and they wonder why anyone
called them the 'good old days'
We argue about the merits of cell phones or facebook
and just to annoy me, my daughter says the e-book
should replace all the bother and clutter of volumes
that we read once then store on a shelf, by the dozen
but mom says you can't smell the face of a screen
and someday she is not going to think like seventeen.
They give me all the answers to those things I should know
I laugh and listen; because life will show
them soon enough, it does not come with a patent
and someday,Lord willing, they will think like a parent
so I am content to hear their wit and their wishes
in time well-spent
while we do dishes.

Janet

I have been offered dish-washers, but right now
I decline those offers. My kids don't know it yet,
but we are not merely doing dishes. We are making memories.
I grew up in a large family and have done miles of dishes., with ever-so-many memories attached.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Go to Sleep, Sonny


What is that sound on the ground, oh Mama?
What is that sound on the breeze?
What is that sound crying outside my window
Weeping through stark, barren trees?
What is that sound underneath my bed, Mama
Tiptoeing over the floor
What is that sound on the roof, oh Mama
And knocking on our back door?

What is the sound on the ground, dear Sonny?
What is the sound on the breeze?
What is the sound that you hear, dear Sonny
Weeping through winter’s bare trees?
I’ve heard the sound that you hear, dear Sonny
I’ve heard its soft, muffled rhyme
It’s nothing at all to fear, precious honey
It is simply the tiptoe of time

© Janet Martin~

Red Footprint Legacy


We are leaving footprints
Though their trace we cannot see
They will take their place upon
The tracks of history

If our soles were painted
In ink, permanent and red
What would be the legacy
Of moments that we tread?

Janet~

 (optional third stanza, a personal journey)

I followed red footprints once
They changed life’s course for me
Because these footprints led me to
A place called Calvary

© Janet Martin

Hey There, Sad Woman...


Hey there, sad woman
Of drawn, pale face
Were you once a maiden
Of youthful grace?

Why has life painted
Beneath your gray eyes
The proof of its sorrow
Without disguise?

What is the history
Sealed into your gaze
That drops as you see me
Study your face?

Hey there, sad woman
I think I know
I was a girl once
Not so long ago…

© Janet Martin

I Choose Words~

There is nothing romantic about numbers
Their equations, correct, concise
Austere and unwavering digits
Tallying the madness of life

This is why I choose words
There is no right or wrong
On how to weave these lines and curves
In poesy or song

Words transform an empty page
To wisdom, humor, sonnet
Fact, fantasy;  an open stage
To pour love's soul-blood on it

Its nuances original
Silk, satin, ragged, rough
Its messages subliminal
Or random ‘off-the-cuff’

They transport us from wooden chairs
To portals unexpected
Words are the glorious medium where
The dead are resurrected…

…and as we ponder o’er old ink
The bleeding of the ages
Pours into our hearts the drink
Of vagabonds and sages

This is why I choose words
For I am completely astounded
At how twenty-six letters leave hearts stirred
And utterly dumb-founded

© Janet Martin

...so YES! Go ahead, pick up a pen
and make something beautiful.

The only time numbers have the power
to steal my breath or stop my heart
is in unexpected bills...






Temporary...

These things never last very long
A delicious moment melting on our tongue
Sticky hand-prints on polished window pane
Perfunctory tasks performed again and again

These things never last very long
The melody of our favorite song
The ache of missing you lodged in my throat
The chill of the fall, winter’s supine overcoat

These things never last very long
Soon frailty overtakes the strong
And the only surety we have
Is death; and what exceeds its grave

These things never last very long
How brief the faring of the young
But death, oh death, infinite sea
A wee breath, then eternity

Eternity goes on and on
Who can escape it; there are none
But God's great love, opens the way
Beyond the closure of that day

© Janet Martin

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!
How often would I have gathered your children together
as a hen gathers her brood under her wings,
and you would not! Matt. 23:37


 Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! 
How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways! Romans 11:33








The Spell of Midnight Sonnets

When dull and dreary fetters of broad day
Relinquish their command in blue-tongued sighs
When rudiments of failure slip away
Dissolving in vast, velvet-throated skies
Where present-tense in brief, laconic gasp
Expands the ageless crease of history
And this small day is clenched within the grasp
Of what is done and never more will be
I bow my head; for lessons still unlearned
In open-handed chances I have spurned

***

The spell of midnight holds a fearless mirror
And yet I’m drawn to gaze into its glass
Although reflected folly is much clearer
In the dark; than on noon-tides sun-kissed grass
I am inclined to crumble in despair
Repeated follies are a bitter lot
And in the judgment of night’s onyx air
I cower ‘neath the gavel of my thought
But then I bow my head; tears cleanse my face
I have no need to dread, because of grace

***

Of grand and glorious offering, I have none
And to disguise my empty-handed shame
Is but to multiply and thus condone
My heedlessness for which I bear all blame
The accusations which distress the dark
Would rule in favor of the plaintiff’s cry
But wait; the spell of midnight light’s a spark
A glimpse of hope pierces the dark-robed sky
I bow my head in trite, penitent prayer
God’s grace revokes my sentence of despair

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

How Does a Mother Say, 'I Love You'



...and how does a mother say I love you
in a language they understand?
Why, with cookies, of course!

Symbols of Love


We choose red wine, dark chocolate, a rose
Candle-light dinner, music, new clothes
We choose things of comfort and sweetness too
Gifts from the heart to say, ‘I love you’

He chose a crown made of thorns, not the rose
Some nails and a cross are the symbols He chose
Rough blood-stained timber on a darkened hill-side
Crying, “Father, forgive them,” He loved as He died

Janet Martin

I Love You~


For all the things you never say…
…and could
I love you

For all the times you simply smile
Instead of argue
I love you

For all the reasons I can’t think of
For you to love me
I love you

Janet~

If I Should Love You...


If I should love you
In any way at all
It would be
To satisfy
Your discontent
And should a sigh
From your lips fall
It would simply be
A wordless sentiment
Of thoughts that have
No syllables
But spells
In tender smiles
Fulfillment

© Janet~


Love is patient.
Love is kind.
It is not self-seeking…1 Cor. 13


A Lesson in Love

If love has taught me
Anything at all
It is patience.

I do not know
If all things come
To those who wait…

Perhaps, we merely
Exchange what we are
Waiting for

In hope’s that it will
Arrive before
It is too late.

Janet~

Who Can Explain Love? a 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~

A Sonnet of Barred Shutters and Storms


Pale whispers sweep the dark to hidden shores,
Staid expectation murmurs on its lips,
but we have drawn the shutters, locked the doors,
Time will not dictate our fingertips,
for I must make a study of your eyes,
tracing the future of unfettered bliss
While yearning resonates in muted sighs,
I hunger for the flavor of your kiss.
Too long the regimental tick of clocks
has orchestrated the release of locks

Longing shatters the dam of rigidness;
The beauty of familiarity
enriches passion’s unrestrained caress,
Outside the day assumes normality…
…here oceans swell in unrequited fire
of flesh and blood; white horses of the sea
spawn unbridled indulgence and desire
We crown the pinnacle of ecstasy
while merchants, bound by meagerness of dust
redeem their petty dollars for its lust

Pale whispers escalate, intensify,
A quickened urgency ignites the calm
in raging rivers crashing from the sky
as heaven spills its timbre on earth’s palm.
Outside the servant treads toil’s beaten path
and dreams of recompense with glist’ning brow,
while here, we revel in the aftermath
of foaming tides receding from earth’s prow
The sky resumes a sleek, unwav’ring blue
We kiss away its salty residue

© Janet Martin

Happy Valentine's Day

Today's prompt: write a love poem or sonnet without using any terms of endearment or the word 'love'.







Monday, February 13, 2012

Reasons Enough

If He who spoke Light into being
And set Time’s wheels in motion
If He, who broke the curse of sin
And filled the cup of oceans
If He who gives for all we take
His mercy in each hour
If He who lives beyond the grave
And stirs from bud, the flower
If He who knows our inner heart
And every thought that passes
Yet still bestows celestial art
And seasons on earth’s grasses
If He who IS and ever was
Loves us with timeless wonder
Is this not reason then enough
To love thus, one another?

© Janet Martin