Remembrance

A gun, a bomb, hatred and loss
Will never set us free
A Son, a tomb, love and a cross
Has sealed our victory

Janet~

Remembering...

He sits on a park-bench, watching the children
Like colored balloons bobbing over the grass
He catches my eye so I sit down beside him
Suddenly hesitant of what I should ask
So I ask him formally, ‘how are you today?’
And I lean toward him as I hear him say,

“I’m thinking today of my buddy named Jim
And reminding myself again why he died
He died for that little girl there on the swing
And the curly-haired lad coming down the slide
Some days I sit and I can’t help but ponder
The heart-breaking price-tag of freedom; the pain,
But then, as I sit here watching the children
I know that my buddies did not die in vain
I come here to pray for the sons and the daughters
That somehow it seems we easily forget
Leaving their homes and their families; their comforts
Because freedom’s battle is not over yet”

Janet Martin

Remembering...

He sits on a park-bench, watching the children
Like colored balloons bobbing over the grass
He catches my eye so I sit down beside him
Suddenly hesitant of what I should ask
So I ask him formally, ‘how are you today?’
And I lean toward him as I hear him say,

“I’m thinking today of my buddy named Jim
And reminding myself again why he died
He died for that little girl there on the swing
And the curly-haired lad coming down the slide
Some days I sit and I can’t help but ponder
The heart-breaking price-tag of freedom; the pain,
But then, as I sit here watching the children

I know that my buddies did not die in vain

I come here to pray for the sons and the daughters

That somehow it seems we easily forget

Leaving their homes and their families; their comforts

Because freedom’s battle is not over yet”

Janet Martin

Sonnet of Winter (for the kids;)

Reluctant, defeated, autumn succumbs

To winter’s purposed and powerful grip

Stealthily sleek, silver silencing numbs

The ends of our noses and fingertips

Harshly the wind rakes its talons of steel

Over the cusp of the leafy-fringed ponds

Somewhere up yonder it touches a wheel

Showering the earth with quadrillion diamonds

Winter ah, winter, the predisposed foe

Open your pockets and bring on the snow

Pull out your mittens and dust off your sled

Bundle your babies in jackets of fleece

Starry-eyed children with cheeks painted red

Shrieking and rolling in winter’s release

Frosty the snowman returns to his post

Corn pipe and blue scarf to ward off the chill

Miniature angels in unnumbered hosts

Cover the rooftop and valley and hill

Tumbling and twirling and spiraling down

Winter returns in her star-studded gown

Spring, summer, autumn, green, azure and gold

Planting and pruning and gathering harvest

Winter is pure white, and brings with the cold

A season of quieting and of rest

Gather your loved ones around the warm hearth

Warmer is love when the fretting winds blow

Winter is keeping the seed in the earth

Warming its bed with a blanket of snow

Its days are as numbered as all other things

Winter; the glorious harbinger of spring

Janet Martin

oops, it began snowing as I wrote this. I hope I didn't jinx the weather.

Victoria just got home and she is so excited because it snowed for a little bit...
I wrote this for her:)

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/11/thursday-think-tank-74-winter.html

Poverty-stricken

Desperately poor are we who who live

Driven by hunger for things

Desperately poor, who do not give

Blinded by selfish wanting

Desperately poor; the heart, cold, vile

Turning a stone-deafened ear

To the anguished cry of mother and child

With no food or clothes to wear

Desperately poor are we who seek

Treasure of moth-eaten strings

Desperately poor, as fool-hearted thieves

Bound by the striving for things

Desperately poor, the heart enslaved

To temporal pearls of sod

Desperately poor are we who serve

Our things in place of God

Janet Martin

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poetry-prompts/2011-november-pad-chapbook-challenge-day-10#comments


http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/11/when-you-are-in-desperate-need-of-hope/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HolyExperience+%28Holy+Experience%29

November's Wind

Tonight with sullen scowl it strips

The gold leaf from the limb

Tonight with cold and puckered lips

It churns the clouds of heav’n

Tonight the shiv'ring moon is dull

And teardrops lash the dark

As every ragged ditch is full

Of Autumn’s waning spark

Tonight it preys outside the door

And moans against the sash

Tonight, across a ghostly shore

Its howling billows crash

Tonight it weeps in sobs of gray

Across earth’s barren form

A sorrowful soliloquy

A bold and empty storm

Tonight the landscape is a floor

The wind a ruthless broom

It heaves down every corridor

And into every room

It sweeps in vile abandonment

The orchard and the vine

Across the muted continent

Without thought or design

Tonight we tuck the little child

Between warm quilts of down

And though the brooding wind is wild

And every leaf far-blown

It cannot chill the firelight

Where thoughts and memories flow

We hold our loved ones close tonight

And let the north wind blow

Janet Martin

The wind is raging and howling tonight...

Hang onto your hats and grab a coat before heading out.

Or, stay home by the fire, hold a loved one and keep warm.

In the Eye of the Beholder #2

In the eye of the Beholder

We slip and stumble along

In the eye of the Beholder

We are never all alone

In the eye of the Beholder

We deny our acts of shame

In the eye of the Beholder

He calls each of us by name

In the eye of the Beholder

There is nothing left to prove

In the eye of the Beholder

We are known and we are loved

Janet~

As I read the title of the previous poem another thought occurred...

He rules by his power for ever; his eyes behold the nations: Psalms 66:7

In the Eye of the Beholder

It takes time to grow a tree

Into a thing of beauty

Beauty is a rare blossom in youth

But blooms rampantly in the aged

It takes both sun and rain

Dark and light

To create beauty

Attractiveness is often mistaken for beauty

Beauty sleeps in a bud

Unfolding in life’s storms

Into a glorious bloom

Beauty is found, not only in the art

But the artist

Beauty has nothing to do with flawless skin

Or a six-pack

Beauty is the divine interpretation of life

Beauty is a century-old smile

To be able to see beauty in ruins

One needs to be beautiful

Janet~