Lean Years

“Look Alenka,
I am returning to my boyish figure,
The result of lean years”
Alenka throws back her head
laughing as tears
bathe her cheeks
“Ach, Milosz, ve vill never
look like tventy again
And then she winks…
but ve can feel it, eh?”
Now Milosz laughs, and together
beautiful notes blend
in the warm, sweet night
Trouble will end
on a morrow still hidden from sight
Love will take them through hard times
He loves her more than words can say
So he chooses not to tell her just yet
He got laid off today….

Janet


http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com/

The Architect (edited re-post )

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/ (top photo) Above photo- Toronto, Ontario Canada


In the birth of high-rises
Towers, sky-scrapers
Below the rewards of
Man’s greatest endeavors
There, at the base
Of his grand architecture
Is the most amazing
And intricate creature
…man

Buildings may draw
Our gaping admiration
As we stand in awe
At an artists creation
But the inevitable remains
This is simply a street
Lined with structures
Of steel and concrete
...dust

But, every last man
In all of these masses
Though he lingers admiringly
Or hurriedly passes
Is of equal value
In the Creators eyes
We are His workmanship
Bought with a price
...blood

Buildings will crumble
There is nothing so grand
As to be immortal
Or above the command
Of One, who created
Not of stone or wood
But blew on the dust
And made flesh and blood
…man

Concrete and steel
Will decay and rust
Flesh and blood
Will return to dust
But within every man
And beyond our control
Dwells the immortal
The undying soul
...hope

Janet~

Architecture is such a pleasure
To behold
The completion
Of a great dream.
But as I stood gazing in admiration
As crowd upon crowd rushed by
It suddenly struck me,
Every single person, in every single city
Or in the remotest corner of the earth
Never escapes the eyes of his Creator.
Architects dream, build, die
None of their work will remain eternally
But every man, woman, child,
Who breathes upon this earth
Will meet their Creator!
Hallelujah, He has also given to everyone
Living Hope
For the soul that will never die.

After-effects of a Beautiful Time

There never was a perfect time for that…
The vacuum that seeks to inhale present joy
Should I succumb
But I cannot
For missing you is simply
The after-glow of a bloom
A lingering fragrance
Filling the room
And I will not languish
Too long in its pain
For some sweet, sweeter day
We will meet again
The curve in life's track
Steals you from my sight
Goodnight, oh my love
Good-night, goodnight
Love is not
A fleeting bloom of youth
It is the very essence
Of all truth
It does not leave us
Never to return
I wait, I weep, I walk, I yearn
And turn to love the moment I am in
For only, only moments
Never return again...

J~

Trust Issues...

Why is it, God?
Sometimes, with every fiber in my being
I fight Your will
You plant the sod
With spring, while it is winter
In manifold finesse
Your wonders spill
And yet sometimes I doubt
The merit of your way
God, guide me with Your spirit
This I pray

Why is it God
That I think I should comprehend
The wonder of Your love?
Unnumbered mercies
Sweet redemption
Flowing from Your hand
Have sealed my hope above
Compassion pours in rivers, boundless
No one escapes Your eye
Deliver me from this world’s hounding
Hear my cry

Remind me, oh God
If I should choose to live
Without You
Remind me of the reckoning
When this life is through
Help me, so that I may store
A timeless treasure
In Your keep
On Heavens shore
Remind me, oh God
Wherever I move
It is by Your grace and
Unfathomable love

Janet Martin

It’s all about Him!

To Children Old or Young

You are a special gift
Bestowed by God in Heaven
So use, though it may seem so small
The gift that you’ve been given

There is no deed too slight
No heart He will refuse
If we give back to Him the gift
He gives for us to use

Janet~

So many people God uses to touch each of us
as they use, for Him, their gifts.

Thank-you~

This poem inspired by some words on Milena's Blog

Keep on keeping on...for Him!

This morning I glared at the pen (wrote Still)
the pen seemed empty.
But the pen is merely a tool for Inspiration's higher calling.

The Forgotten Pond

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

It sleeps upon a still and frozen hearth
Forsaken, as the flash of childish dream
Attended by the Gardener of earth
Bejeweled by stones that line the bubbling stream
And I must go to this forgotten place
Of pine-thatched roof and rain-washed breathing space

A gate cannot dissuade my wanderlust
I’m drawn by leaf-notes fluttering aloft
Intoxicated by musk-laden dust
The wind is curved against me, cool and soft
I grope to touch the effervescent breeze
More hope have I, to rebuild memories

Veiled moments; thousands, pass in obscure schemes
The breath of nature’s grace dissolves their cry
There is a time to work and time for dreams
I spread my fantasies against the sky
Cattails like stalwart guards, cajole the fronds
Lacing the banks of long-forgotten ponds

It sleeps upon a still and frozen hearth
Jade broach garnishing winter’s stark lapel
Dazzling, rare, within its hidden berth
Ancient, forgotten and so beautiful
A jewel amongst the pine and cedar hush
Heaven dropped a sparkle from its brush

Janet~



The pond lay beneath this pine-thatched roof
I saw it yesterday, on my afternoon trek through the woods.

Flip-side of Love

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2012/01http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif/viceversa-midnight-snack-weekly-prompt_10.html

There is but one
Unmeasured sorrow
It is in that
Of a life,
Sadly wasted

If sorrow must be
Then I have been blessed
To know such love
It’s bitter-sweetness
Humbly tasted

Oh God, sorrow hurts
But it is not hopeless
With You
Sorrow is the flip-side
Of beautiful love

I have held love
And for love
I have let go
Grief is but a season
Heaven waits above

J~

To live without sorrow...
...is to live without love


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ri5XocxGyT8&feature=autoplay&list=FLsqea52gOM17vOYBlwPVKvA&lf=BFp&playnext=10

Still

Once upon a day you let me hear
The breakers crash upon the shore
But skies are gray, so gray my dear
And I can’t hear them crashing anymore
I trace the outline of your faultless innocence
Beg for oceans, raging deep inside
Where once you caused my eager heart to dance
Your pleasing satisfaction is denied

Tormentor of my secret, craving bliss
I cannot, oh I cannot love you now
Though, how I covet your designing kiss
Your whisper cools in silence on my brow
You lie there now, emotion drained and dead
Your reckless passion distant, cold and still
A coiffure filled with naught but ink-stained dread
I plead against your unresponsive will

Once upon another sweeter day
Perhaps you’ll stir in me so graciously
A long-forgotten, tender melody
And maybe then, oh love, then we will be
Inseparable in spirit, two as one
How, oh how I long for that again
But for now your lure and passion seem far gone…
…and you are just a cold and lifeless
Pen

Janet~