Reluctant Realizations

Like warm silk, she passes by
I sense a sympathetic smile
But she will not meet my eye
For she knows it will be awhile
Before she reaches out her hand
And asks me, shall we dance
For she like I, is not in command
But at the mercy of time and chance

Her long flowing tresses have been shorn
Her vibrant eye is dull
And in her sigh a chill is born
For we can feel the pull
Of hours in waiting; waiting to shed
Sad reluctant tears
On a mournful autumn bed
As she softly disappears

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Janet Martin

The warm somber haze
Of sweet August days
Fills me with reluctant realization
Over the hill
Waits September’s chill
And summer’s evaporation

September in Waiting.....

You shiver in the aspen tree
You hover in the sigh
Of stalwart corn-stalk infantry
Reaching for the sky…..

You tarry in the gilded bush
And etch with burnished gold
Each leaf of green; the orchards blush
Beneath the wand you hold

Did we not witness spring’s glad mirth?
Upon each slope and field
But yesterday; when did the earth
Relinquish her fair shield?

You breathe within the slumbering
Of muted purple sky
Ah, years need no more numbering
Than minnows passing by

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Janet Martin

They Grew Accustomed......

They grew accustomed to her far-off gaze
Her sudden pause or mindless ways
If the sky’s wordless beauty left her in a daze
They reminded her, “Mom, you’re driving!”

They grew accustomed to poetry books on the table
Crumpled wads of paper and scribble
With trains of thoughts ending in dribble
While they reminded her, “Mom, we’re hungry!”

They grew accustomed to her drawn-out sigh
At over-grown creek beds or a half-moon sky
They no longer bother asking “why?”
They remind themselves, “Mom’s a poet”

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Janet Martin

Actually, I do not consider myself a poet....
not after reading truly great poetry,
I simply like to pen thoughts and rhyme words
The art of true poetry eludes me.....
but how pleasurable the quest in my journey

Through My Open Window....

Through my open window I see
Youth's sun rise
White-capped skies
Bare-foot butterflies
I see
Moonbeams splash
On tempered grass
….and summer pass

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Janet Martin

Together Again

I like to sit upon a shore
It is not good to be land bound too long
Here my soul can fly and soar
Wafted on a turquoise song

The prison bars of soil and field
Have lost their beauty and fair charm
Now my prayers are freed, unsealed
On a shoulder lucid, warm

Trust her constant ebb and flow
Confide your deepest hope and dream
This is luxury, you know
In the lyric of the stream

I like to sit upon a shore
Dissolve into her ethereal bliss
Yes, I know we’ve been here before
But it’s never been like this

Silence is for the sleeping and dead
Words for paper and a pen
We’ll listen to the waves instead
For here we are together again

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Janet Martin

Personally Yours....

The warmth of the sun stirs my thoughts of you
But then again, the blue sky does too
I stand and admire the hush of the dawn
And hear your whisper dance across the lawn
Into my very heart of hearts
As daylight in blue and silver shards
Cuts across the wakening girth
Where once again the sleepy earth
Rouses to the beck and call
Of duty or freedom great or small
And I covet the thought of vacant hours
To stroll for a while among wild flowers
With not a thing in the world to do
But satisfy my thoughts of you

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Janet Martin

August Night.....

Reckless, wanton sultry night
Bitter grief and sweet delight
For every time you visit me
Another day is history
So pull your veil across the west
And remind me why I’m blessed
While you turn wild-flower to gray
And steal the summer hours away
You leave too fast but come too soon
Tender cradle of the moon
I covet your deep shade of blue
Crave to walk the avenue
Of the dazzling Milky Way
In the moon-beams silky sway
But within my restless sigh
I see a softening in the sky
You; my bittersweet delight
Reckless, wanton August night

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Janet Martin

It Should Be...

It should be a silent night
The wind of the day has died down
The gold walnut leaves drift soundlessly
Decking the lawn with her gown
August night in perfection
Breathes across the hill
Oh, it should be a silent night
For even the river is still

The dust in the field has settled
The farmer in slumber lies
The sheaves of grain stand in tranquil salute
To the Keeper in the skies
The cricket in somber reverence
Ceases her serenade
Oh, it should be a silent night
In a picture heaven-made

But there’s something about August and pale moonlight…..
Makes me wish you were here with me
There's something about this peaceful sight
That stirs a memory
And your laughter breaks the silence
It drifts across the blue
Oh it should be a silent night
And it would be.....if I didn't know you


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Janet Martin