Soul-song

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/12/think-tank-thursday.html


If you listen
Well, I guess that
You won’t hear a thing
It’s another kind
Of language
Caught in whispers
Deep within
And I can feel my heartbeat
In a tender sort of pain
Its timbre, blue and bitter-sweet
Yet, warm as summer rain
I feel it rise within me
In a sweeping melody
As its tenure rushes through me
Like a storm on midnight’s sea
For its whisper is an ocean
Yet its ocean but a sigh
And its lone proof of existence
Is a teardrop in my eye
If you listen closely
Well, you still won’t hear a thing
But I can hear it clearly
In a montage deep within
Its lips upon my memory
And its voice against each breath
Its notes a sudden longing
And an aching in my chest
Not a flicker, not a murmur
Not a single, tiny trace
Of the orchestra within me
But the half-smile on my face

J~

What Were You Thinking?

What were you thinking
As you lay in that manger
While we crowded ‘round you
Amazed at Your birth?
What were You thinking
As you stepped out of Heaven
Knowing the reason
You were coming to earth?

What were You thinking
As angels were singing
Declaring to all
That a Savior is born?
There in that stable
While the heavens were ringing
What were you thinking
On that first Christmas morn?

Did you think as you lay there
Of a field named Golgotha?
Did you see a cruel cross
On a hill, Calvary?
There in the midst of
The cattle and oxen
What were you thinking
As the star shone brightly?

Ah yes, you were thinking
The thoughts that still held you
As you knelt, praying
In Gethsemane
Lord, you were thinking
Of lost sheep with no Shepherd
You were thinking of us, Lord
You were thinking of me

Janet Martin

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." Matt.1:21


Hey, I'm trying...a girl cannot go 'cold turkey', 'kay? I'm listening to Christmas music while doing my housework and sometimes the love that Jesus had/has! for us just blows me away!

Farewell, Dear Mother

While we bid farewell
To dear mother below
God opens His arms
And is smiling ‘hello’

While here we are weeping
But not without hope
The angels are singing
‘Welcome home, welcome home’

While sorrow is the
Tender-sweet lining of love
We know dear mother
Is with God up above

We bid our farewell
With peace flowing free
For mother, dear mother
Is where she longed to be

Janet

Written to Brent, Jan and family at the sudden passing of her mother.

Dear mother of sixteen children has found eternal rest.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...

We put up the tree the other night. Emily, Melissa and Victoria are helping. Matt did too, but because he works at the neighbors barn on some evening, he had showered and was wearing his PJ'S and did NOT want his picture taken;))

'Daddy' says go ahead and put it up. Daddy's 'gone truckin'.

A Higher Goal

Breath by breath and step by step
Toward a Gate we’re going
How soon night swallows up the day
And death, life’s minute glowing
The remnants of another year
Are slipping into history
And what a-waits beyond this sphere
Is Hope’s beckoning mystery

The pathway to love’s higher goal
Is strewn with tears and groaning
But God, the keeper of our souls
Offers His Grace atoning
No plea unheard, no grief unseen
No need escapes his vision
As step by step and breath by breath
He guides us to His kingdom

Janet~

I simply cannot believe that we are turning the page to December already!
Posts may be a little more sporadic in the next few weeks...if I can figure out how to bottle the Muse:)) You poets out there will know what I mean.

May our hearts turn toward the real Reason for the Season! Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today and forever! Heb. 13:8

I will be posting a few more photos perhaps, to give readers a glimpse into Canada Christmas, and the little corner of the earth that I call home.

Sonnet of Waning Even-tide

When daylight fades and twilight’s lids grow heavy
When sky and earth don night-time’s muffled shawl
When all the ships are harbored in the levee
Silence unmarred, save for the loon’s faint call
When dreary toil is laid aside til morning
When Home-fires soothe our petty wants and woes
When darkened limbs are stripped of spring’s adorning
Skeletal against the dim-lit half-moon glows
I sense upon night’s stealthy cusp, a warning
The portent of a quickly waning rose

Ah, life is but a swiftly fading flower
How fair the bud, still waiting to unfold
How brilliant is youth’s vibrant morning hour
How sweet the dream harbored in vision bold
How quickly now the bud becomes a blossom
Its glorious beauty cheers the hastening day
While in the hidden portals of love's bosom
Softly she lets the small dream sail away
Better than dreams, the golden fruit of wisdom
Better than youth, a crown of silver-gray

Where does the darkness go in dawn's returning?
Where does the spirit fly when bodies rest?
Where is the fortune now that steals our yearning?
What is the hope that burns within our chest?
Where is the One who rules Time's still transition
The seasons, days and tides that slip to naught
Where is the final object of our vision?
The gathering of treasure that we sought
Have we obtained love's ticket into Heaven
Or must we tell life's Giver we forgot?

Janet~

Morning at The Window or Windows...

http://vnesdolypoems.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/today-im-antisocihttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifal/

a morning at the windows...
watching as the miraculous dawning
expands across the sky

nudging deflated shadows
back, beneath trees and awnings
I watch a lone bird fly

across the tinted canvas
that only God can claim
the trees, stark pencil-drawings

etched in perfect stillness
isn't it a shame
that we miss these perfect mornings

as we stare at Windows
instead of through them...?

Janet~

Inspired by Violet Nesdoly's poem today.

First Time for Everything...Limericks

http://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/in-fohttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifrm-poet-the-limerick/


Once there was a girl named Janet
Who would hide behind words like cannot
But one day she tried
And fears logic defied
And awoke on a wonderful planet

Once there was a would-be poet
Who was far too frightened to show it
But poet’s are kind
And their love, softly blind
She’s met enough, now, to know it

Words are still free in recession
Penned in sweet, care-free confession
When asked, is it true?
We reply, it’s up to you
And return to the poet’s obsession

Janet~