The Missing of You

To hold back the missing of you
I would do…

…if I could disarray
The stars of the sky
Or speak away
The tear in my eye
Or reach out my hand
And thus hold back years
If I could tally the sand
Or life’s raindrops and tears
If I could see past
The end of forever
Then I could hold fast
Time’s relentless river
And I could erase
The low thundercloud
Or carefully re-trace
Steps, flippant and proud
I could paint away sorrow
And turn gray skies to blue
I could hold back tomorrow
And the eve’s ruddy hue
I could return
To the past’s innocence
Never needing to yearn
For its lost recompense
I could hold on
To this moment I’m in
Space would not spawn
This aching within
If I could hold back
The wind and the dew
Oh, then I could hold back
The missing of you

J~

Bubble?...or Trouble?

There’s a truckload of trouble
And worry to borrow
It is held in a bubble
Known as tomorrow

Should I choose to reject
The gifts I can see
And treat with neglect
Responsibility

Because I have chosen
To borrow the care
Of a day still uncertain
And translucent as air?

There’s a truckload of trouble
We should never borrow
It drifts in a bubble
Known as tomorrow

Janet~

The Sound of Silence

The silence speaks profoundly
Of those things I cannot see
Its echo falls around me
In discordant harmony

A kaleidoscope of smiles and tears
Of greetings and good-byes
A wave of long-forgotten years
Returns in sudden sighs

The silence teams with memories
Of sorrow and delight
Its cadence weeps upon the breeze
And fills an empty night

The silence falls around me
Like moonlight on the stones
Your name softly surrounds me
In its muffled undertones

J~

Stirrings

The glint of blue in your half-closed eye
Teasing with possibility
The hint of you indulging my sigh
Stirs the poet in me

The persona you share from nine to five
Is sharpened for others to see
I prefer the free and easy side
To stir the poet in me

I prefer you in the shadow of dusk
As daylight falls into the sea
And the night air is heavy with mystery and musk
To stir the poet in me

The public receives your wit and your charm
You move me unwittingly
By the light in eye and the warmth of your arm
Stirring the poet in me

Save your strength for requirements
I love your vulnerability
And all your unformed sentiments
Stirring the poet in me

J~

Another Kind of Gardening

God reveals truth in a garden
The seeds we plant will grow
So it is with life, my darling
We simply reap what we sow

Janet~

Of Planting-time and Gardens

It is a different world out here
Where dreaming over-rides despair
Illuminated miracles
Spoken in green oracles
Of planting-time and gardens

Is there a spot in May Unpainted?
Ah, surely there is naught yet tainted
By the withering, scorching sun
No weed to blight earth’s stirring throne
Of planting-time and gardens

I cannot cling to brimming youth
Or brush away infallible truth
But year after year and world over world
God’s compassion is unfurled
In planting-time and gardens

Janet~

Enlarged

The night enlarges
Commencing, fold over fold
Over magenta and oranges
Burnished pinks and gold
Drawing me into arms
Of darkened after-light
No hint of its crimson storm
Touching the silent night

The night expands; empty
As the laughter of lost love
And faded intimacy
Haunting the blue above
It falls like careless rain
Unaware of its power
A flood of perpetual pain
Shattering the quiet hour

The night envelopes the places
We touched with childish feet
Though time steals away the faces
Memory is savage and sweet
The night is large; surrounding me
Yet offering no consolation
But to put its dark arms around me
In a dispassionate obligation

Janet~

Pioneers

We live in a cradle of blood-shed and tears
Where our forefathers bravely fought
To protect and preserve the things they held dear
With more than a passing thought

They did not seek out the comfort or ease
The joy of a pleasant ride
But they held on to what they believed
With faith and God and pride

And here in the dust of a stranger’s land
They carved a niche of their own
With blood and tears and the work of their hand
They built little plots of home

We live in a cradle of horror and hope
As history seems to repeat
How far would we go in the name of love
To protect and honor and keep

…the faith for which our forefathers died
And left the things they loved
Giving, with the future’s children in mind
The very best they could

Janet~