Perfect Poetry

There is a certain time of night
Somewhere twixt twelve and two
When the pastureland is white
Gleaming with moonlit dew
When starlight fans a velvet sky
And silence cloaks the earth
As even lissome zephyrs die
Quelling their noontide mirth
When the pond is smooth as glass
Without the faintest brush
Or ripple of a breeze to pass
And mar its flawless hush
There is a certain time of night
Somewhere twixt twelve and three
Where heaven waits to softly write
Its perfect poetry

Janet~

In Moments

There is nothing we can do
To bring the past back into view
But its eternity is cast
In moments before they are past

There is no moment deigned for waste
Each one slipping by in haste
One fleeting breath and it is gone
Building history; stone on stone

There is nothing we can do
To bring the past back into view
But with the moment in our hand
We may do the best we can

For in the future we may see
Reflections of our history
Because of what we did today
With moments as they slipped away

Janet~

True Measure

There is so much that we could say

With carefully structured word

But words alone are cold and gray

It is action that is heard

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold

A wise and valuable treasure

But it is our action when all is told

That speaks of the heart’s truest measure

Janet~

The Best

What lies on the tip of your tongue

Beyond the words 'there is'

Seems we could add almost anything

To a phrase as taunting as this...

But the most powerful words added to this phrase

Were breathed in Holiness

'I am the Lord; there is no other God'

Is there any words better than this?

Janet Martin

"I am the LORD, and there is no other;

Besides Me there is no God.

I will gird you, though you have not known Me; Isa. 45:5

Shadows

There is something about you
That entices me
Perhaps a certain shade of blue
Or just your memory

There is something about you
That is bittersweet and bold
Yet there is nothing I can do
To turn the blue to gold

There is something ‘bout the past
That claims a part of me
And in its deepening shadow cast
I touch your memory

J~

Passion

There is a sweet and strange allure
Held on an empty page
A surface, unbridled and pure
An endless, open stage

Upon its shoulder bleeds the heart
In blood-drops made of ink
Preserved; a timeless work of art
To make us feel and think

There is nothing in this world
That moves me quite as much
As possibilities unfurled
When pen and paper touch

Janet~

Shimmering Art

There is a soft and sultry sheen

Upon the field of grass

Where every blade of emerald green

Is kissed with liquid glass

As midnight’s raindrops glisten

In the shimmering light of dawn

A misty, moody painting

In the sweep of silver lawn

There’s a soft and sultry aching

In the meadow of my heart

Where time’s giving and taking

Paints a silent work of art

As smiles and sorrow mingle

In the whisper of a sigh

Shimmering in the twinkle

Of a tear within my eye

Janet Martin

Another Rainy Morning

There is a muted sorrow
In the darkly-tinted awning
Weeping on each field and furrow
On another rainy morning
Its gray approach is heavy
Like a heart of silent needing
As it presses on the levy
With its flow of silver bleeding

It draws a sigh from longing lips
And tunes a vague oppression
As consciousness of knowing grips
The heart into submission
For man with all its power and might
Cannot one raindrop tether
Or meet within the dead of night
To change the course of weather

Its slanted weeping tames the dust
Into a thousand rivers
While all mankind can do is trust
In heaven’s tender Giver
We clasp within our bosom
The ache of love and longing
As we listen to the music
Of another rainy morning

Janet~

...yes, another rainy morning!