This or That?

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-

To Sleep or Write

I should sleep tonight

Draw the blankets up beneath my chin

And close my eyes

But then I cannot write

There is a restless stirring deep within

Sleep is for the wise

To Work or Shirk

Duty is a tireless employer

Reluctant to ease its stance

Its reins too taut for wandering

Or pausing to whirl and dance

The wind tugs my hand from its toiling

And lures me with its rebel-dare

Will anyone notice my absence

As I chase a dream through the air?

To Lust or Love

I trace your body with a hungry gaze

You wink; the spark ignites to a blaze

But lust is a devil in an angel’s disguise

The attraction is gone when the fire dies

Love is constant; not something we do

Its garb is quite humble, but it is true

Love is patient, honest and kind

It satisfies both body and mind

To Persevere or Quit

I want to quit

My Muse is gone

But the one who wins

Is the one who keeps on…

To Dance or Die

To stop hurting or reaching

Or working or teaching

Or learning or giving

Is to stop living

To stop dancing

Is to die

Janet Martin

The Living Dead

Amelia has prayed and pleaded and cried

For somehow the Charlie she knew has died

She holds him close when the dark thunder rolls

There are no words with power to console

Or wipe the scenes from his tormented mind

For where Charlie goes, she remains behind…

The shades are drawn to subdue the daylight

But they cannot shade the mind from his plight

The sun is warm with scent of pinewood

He shivers, inhaling the stench of blood

Lassie waits, eager for Charlie to play

Her master is home, it’s a perfect day

He lifts his arm; suddenly he braces

For the explosion of grenades and faces

Lassie looks back, trying to understand

Why Charlie won’t throw the toy in his hand

But she does not hear the planes distant hum

Or marching feet to the beat of a drum

She cannot see the horror-stricken tears

Of mangled and wounded as gun-smoke clears

Her skin does not ache with memories of blood

Covering the earth in a sickening flood

He cannot see rippling wheat fields, blue skies

Darkened by images burned in his eyes

The woods, once tranquil and sweet with romance

Speak only of fear in his haunted trance

Memories of lying in its cool dark shade

Are frames of terror as history is made

When they told her he made it, Amelia cried

Now she still weeps for her Charlie has died

Janet Martin

http://margoroby.wordpress.com/2011/11/08/painting-poems-tuesday-tryouts/

Holy Mystery

God, before Time’s charted span

Jesus, who took on flesh, as man

Spirit, to dwell in humanity

Three in One, how can this be?

Janet Martin

November's poem-a-day challenge...

To write a 'normal' or a 'paranormal' poem.

from Wikipedia...

Paranormal is a general term (coined ca. 1915–1920^[1][2]) that designates experiences that lie outside "the range of normal experience or scientific explanation"^[3] or that indicates phenomena understood to be outside of science's current ability to explain or measure.^[1][4] Paranormal phenomena are distinct from certain hypothetical entities, such as dark matter and dark energy, only insofar as paranormal phenomena are inconsistent with the world as already understood through empirical observation coupled with scientific methodology.^[5]

A Prayer for Life

Take my hand, dear Lord, I pray

You will never lead astray

In life’s pathways there are two

Let my footsteps follow You

Kindly Shepherd of us all

Hold me so I will not fall

Let my thought and action prove

The indwelling of Your love

Teach my lips to sing Your praise

Through the battle and the blaze

Satisfy my spirit Lord

As I feed upon Your word

Be my glory and my boast

Be the wisdom I crave most

Fix my earth-dimmed gaze to trust

In true Hope beyond this dust

Lift me up when I am weak

Temper every word I speak

Savior, Father, Jesus, Friend

Keep me ‘til my journey’s end

Janet

Remembering Forever

The rhythmic swish of the dark ocean waves

Conceals the horror of uncharted graves

The warm dappled sunbeam sparkles and leaps

Over lost tombs in decade-pleated deeps

Across whitewashed sands carefree children run

Where once lay man with a prayer and a gun

As shell-fire and smoke and bloody tears fell

Bathing the shore in red rivers of hell

Nostrils burning with the grim stench of death

Time; precious yearning in every breath

As hatred and love and grief are laid bare

In volleys of terror piercing the air

Delirium offers tormented bliss

Twixt strident reality and her kiss

The rise and pitch of after and before

Launches the dying to a one-man war…

There is no glory in war; it may seem

As if its stories are simply a dream

Though they may emit a teardrop subdued

Or feelings of anguish and gratitude

Can we reignite what seems to be lost?

An appreciation for freedom’s cost

Across white-washed sands happy children run

Freedom’s banner gently blows in the sun…

Janet~

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

Lady Dawn

She nudges the dark and it recedes

Like a spineless coward toward the shadows

Or does it melt, helpless and wanting beneath her touch?

She softens the horizon line

Etching the night with a pale, gauze ribbon

Pushing aside its heavy robe and kissing it with silver dew

Soundlessly, effortlessly she overtakes

The force of the deepened sky in wild exultation

For Lady Dawn waits for none; and the night can never resist her

J~

The Impatience of Time

Time and Death wait for no man

Time is that thing we measure life by

In death there is no Time…

Simply eternity

Time multiplied infinitely

Cannot begin to fathom

Eternity...

Time gives you to me

And steals you away

Time is the hour

Of duty and play

But Death is waiting

At every man's door

Where there will be

No Time anymore...

Time is one tittle

And one Tiny jot

Time is one little

Intangible dot

A speck of blue

In infinite space

What would we do

Were it not for Grace?

Grace waits for everyone

But only 'til death

Our destiny sealed

In life's final breath

Death is not dark

In the light of God's love

Time is a spark

That death will snuff

Janet

My Sweet Addiction

You wake me up each morning
Much to my delight
You know exactly what I need
And how to do it right
I’m still a little sleepy
Until I feel your touch
Your warmth flows into, through me
I love you, oh, so much
Maxwell, you’re a darling
I keep you in a can
And reach for you each morning
To kiss your face of tan
Your deep and robust passion
Arouses to the core
I know now I cannot
Live without you anymore
You'll never need to worry
No one can take your place
I sip you and inhale you
With a smile upon my face
Maxwell, you’re a darling
I love your coat of blue
And in the early morning
No one else will do
Maxwell, you’re a keeper
Perfection in a can
I wonder what would happen
IF YOU WERE A MAN

Janet Martin

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-6