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.

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

another Poetic Bloomings Trolaan

Song: I Don't Deserve a Mansion

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

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~

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

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

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

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... 

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.

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

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'.

 http://margoroby.wordpress.com/2012/02/14/heart-and-soul-tuesday-tryouts/

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