Vacation

I need a little vacation
A little time to play
And I don’t need an explanation
I’m going to play hooky today

The garden is a haven
I love the scent of soil
But I am tired of slavin’
In all it’s endless toil

I need a little breather
A little one on one
I love today’s kind of weather
In the grand old sun

Oh, I need a little vacation
Dust and dirty dishes
May be a house-wife’s heaven
But they can’t satisfy my wishes

I’ll be back in an hour
Or… make it two or three
The sun has mysterious power
When I’m in her company

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Janet Martin

Acknowledgement....

I no longer try to forget
My sorrow or my regret
For somehow the older I get
I begin to see
It’s not in the moments of gladness
But in my hours of sadness
The Teacher of love and goodness
Is teaching me

I’ll take those moments of sorrow
Who knows, maybe tomorrow
Someone may need to borrow
A little sympathy
And because of my tumbles
When life teaches and humbles
I can relate as another stumbles
By what life has taught me

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Janet Martin

Do You?

Do you hover on the surface of your day?
Or do you delve right in?
Do you tip-toe fearfully
Waiting on its fringe?
Or do you live it to the full
Do you laugh and cry
Love and hate, whisper, yell
Or does it just pass by
Do you hug, kiss, weep, let go
Do you work and play
Sometimes quickly, sometimes slow
Oh, and do you pray?
Do you try and do you stumble
Do you celebrate your joy?
Do you sing or do you grumble
Do you build or just destroy
Do you hurt and do you love
Do you bear love’s silent sorrow?
Do you see the stars above?
Or are your thoughts upon tomorrow
Do you take a faith-leap chance?
Or hide in some dark shadow
Oh, and tell me, do you dance
In summer’s fleeting meadow
Do you live or just exist?
Each day a span of hours…
Tell me, have you been kissed
And do you smell the flowers?

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Janet Martin

Lemon-flavored Night

Suddenly
The half-moon lemon
Sweetens on the tip of my tongue
Tangy, free
Like summer’s heaven
A sparkling mystic love song
The flaws
In noon day’s sun
Are much less vivid now
As dawn
And dusk become one
In muted moonlight’s glow
I sip
The bloom-scented sigh
Of midnights laughing breeze
Exotic
Nectar from the sky
Pouring through the trees
Lemon-
Flavored summer
From a white cup unrestrained
Heaven
I lift my hands up
To catch the warm summer rain

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Janet Martin

I Love Your Hands

Your hands……
Spreading butter on your toast
Taking a cup of coffee from my hand
Your hands….
One of the things I cherish most
I study them
As you hold the morning paper
Sip your java
I absorb you…..
Your down-cast eyes
The strong chin and neck
Then I realize
In the end
I return
To your hands
For which I yearn
When you are near
Or far away
Your hands……
Holding the pen
While writing
Words
Touching me
Like no spoken sentiment ever can…
For so much more is heard
From script of pen
Held in your hand
Turning the ordinary
Into extra-ordinary again….
And again
Darling I love your hands
With them you
Love…
Me
Satisfying with mournful sweetness
My solitary anguish......
Life and love
A matter of hands
I love to study your hands
Over breakfast
Intertwined with mine

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Janet Martin

Disguise

Pardon me when you’re not looking
I still turn a somersault in my back yard
For the sake of my children I try to act my age
But sometimes it is just too hard
What’s a girl to do, tell me?
For I have tried in vain
Why am I over forty
But sometimes I feel just like a kid again

The rippling fields of amber
Taunt me as I pass and call my name
If I should decide to run or hide in them
I don’t think I really am to blame
I try hard to be a lady
If I don’t I know society would frown
But I will never tell you
What I do when no one is around

Pardon me, when you’re not looking
I don’t really need to act my age
And after all, age is a number
Just a couple random digits on a page
Being old and sedentary
Is a thought that simply tears me apart
Oh I try to be a lady
But the truth is sometimes.....
I'm still a kid at heart

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Janet Martin

Dilemma......

If I were not a poet.....
...I would weep
But if I were not a poet
I COULD SLEEP:):)

~Janet~

At 1 A.M.

It’s 1 a.m.
My today is really yesterday…
And my tomorrow is today
In this hour
The best hour of all
When shadows fall
Unbroken
Save for the flicker
Of the green willow limb
Waving lazily in the moonlight dim
At 1 a.m.
When the earth slumbers
And the heavens reveal
In dazzling silence
Gems of countless number
Which none can steal
But man can only wonder
What lies beyond?
The great unknown
Between earth
And the great white throne
At 1 a.m.
Where solitude is unhindered
By yesterdays left-over’s
Or tomorrows mysteries
An hour for vagabonds
And lovers
And poets….
Disregarding the steady ticking
Of minutes plunging into history
At 1 a.m.
Let the silver cloud
Then drift across the full moon
It enhances the beauty
Of midnight’s noon
For this hour is
A glorious gem
On a bed of navy blue
With soft charcoal hem
Glistening with dew
At 1 a.m.

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Janet Martin