The Call.....

The front porch
Was too small
On a night
Like last night
We preferred
Wide open fields
And a blanket
Of starlight
We preferred taking
To wanting
And the august night
Was there,
Taunting
Free for the taking
A solitary offering
She held out her hand
We were willing
Words were
Common weeds
The hush, a rose
Satisfying our needs
…..and woes
For a night like
Last night was
Not meant for sleep
We pitied the
Poor shadows
In slumber deep
Is time not
A running stream
Emptying itself
In eternity?
Was last night a dream?
…..or reality
Because the front porch
Was too small
And we heard
The August night call

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Janet Martin

Beautiful Thief

I love you, I hate you
Bittersweet pain
Raging wild fire
Cold driving rain
I love you, I hate you
What more can I say
Autumn, you steal my summer away

I love the burst of dusty blue
Passion on my tongue
It brings back memories of you
And being free and young
I love the flame that sweeps the hill
In orange and red and gold
I love the wind, I hate the chill
And thoughts of growing old

I love the rivers of purple and sage
Flowing in ditch and hollow
I pause on the ridge of middle age
Aware of what will follow
I love the sassy undertones
As branches toss and sway
I hate the thief of scarlet and bronze
Stealing my summer away

I love you, I hate you
Invisible duel
I laugh then I weep
Ah, fall is so cruel
I love you, I hate you
There is no other way
Your bewitching beauty
Steals summer away

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Janet Martin

Hey R~
Your comment got me to thinking.....
yes, I love Autumn too and I hate it!!!

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