Equality's Behoovement

All flesh and blood is equal

In the eyes of its Creator

There is no person lesser

Nor is anybody greater

The filament by which we’re formed

From Adam has not varied

Dust we are; to dust returned

As lifeless shrouds are buried

And if all flesh is equal then

Does it not thus behoove us

To love fully our fellowmen

Before Time’s Hand removes us

Dust we are; to dust returned

A humble proclamation

Befitting us for but one thing

Love, without reservation

© Janet Martin

For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment, as God has allotted to each a measure of faith. Romans 12:3 NAS

Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves. Phil. 2:3 KJV

Flesh and Blood Compassion

When flesh and blood lies bleeding

Farewell thoughts against the sky

Away, away from loved ones

They weep out their last good-bye

When freedom’s price is blood-bought

With a brother, daughter, son

Our grief is universal

And our teardrops flow as one

When freedom’s charge is gathered

Again…again… again

We see, not nation or color

But simply women, men

With flesh and blood compassion

We plead out to God above

To comfort those who sorrow

For the ones they dearly love

When freedom’s price is blood-bought

Charted ramparts disappear

For in death we all are kindred

And our sorrow is a tear

© Janet Martin

Written in memory of four French soldiers killed yesterday in Afghanistan

My tears and prayers are for civilian victims as well.

Hello Megan. First, sorry for my english, I'm French. I often come to your blog because I like so much your tags and stationery (thank you so much for sharing them with us), and tonight I happened to see that post for Memorial Day. Yesterday, 4 french soldiers died in Afghanistan (I hope your poem is also for other countries fighting for freedom and not only the US). My brother, who is in the military, will be there in a few weeks, so thank you for that post. Thank you for sharing this also.
Louise

Thank you for sharing with us all ~ and impacting lives around the world...

How We Love Thee

Where wild phlox crawls in purple rivers

And azure seas of noon-tide gleam

On green fields rolling to forever

Beneath the sun’s coronal beam

Where butter-cups gold-vessel splendor

Pools on bluffs, on banks and hills

And our shadows, long and slender

On the twilight hour spills

Where the willow’s wanton weeping

Tunes the midnight’s moody moan

Where December’s stream lay sleeping

Now it laughs on mud and stones

Where the strain of sunset vesper

Lingers on the trembled hush

As the stain of heaven’s grandeur

Falls in mercy from its brush

Where the nail-hook says ‘gone fishing’

For these drawn-out days are small

Soon the summer heart is wishing

For the hours preceding fall

Where the heart is humbly happy

As the bumbling, tumbling bee

Imbibed with heady lupine-nectar

Fairest June, how we love thee

© Janet Martin

Sunday Whirl

Like Water...

The truth is

A little like

Water

We cannot

Dilute

Dissolve

Or drown it 

Janet~

Poetic Bloomings Prompt: Water

The Intangible Corrosion

There are finger-tips

Not of skin

But oh…the touch

There are kisses

Not of lips

But oh…the desire

There are wanderings

Not of footprints

But oh…the destinies

There are oceans

Not of water

But oh…the drowning

J~ 

 Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. 1 Cor. 10:12

Of What Remains

Sometimes when the sky is full of night

and the wind slumbers

high in the poplar trees

where the song of soft summer rain

haggles the leaves by day…

Sometimes, when the moon is swallowed in blackness

as earth and sky coalesce

in inky nothingness

save for the thickening quiet

blanketing the hour…

Sometimes, when longing could swallow an ocean

and emptiness is full of aching

and aching is full of emptiness

save for a the echo

of what could have been...

Sometimes, then I weep for gladness

and the love of double-edges

for surely fulfillment and need

are the enduring offerings

of what remains

I remember

J~

Days of Grass

As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more.Ps. 103:15

Man’s days are as grass

Soon its labor and lust

Returns once more

To coffers of dust

Man’s days are as grass

How fickle the bloom

Soon it decays

In earth’s vast tomb

Man’s days are as grass

But not the soul

It never dies

Though eternities roll

Of Water...

It fills the tear that stings the eye

In raw, unkempt emotion

It weeps in mercy from the sky

And forms the turquoise ocean

It cheers dull nooks in laughing brooks

It crushes as it rushes

Its nectar drips on parted lips

On twilight ponds it blushes

It drenches parched, drought-stricken lands

It floods, it flows and gurgles

It mirrors heaven’s vast expanse

And cools the sluggish turtles

It trickles, seeps, it drowns, it pools

Baptizes re-born sinners

It lures young lads from woes like school

To fish and dream till dinner

It gleams like silver, polished glass

On winter’s frozen shallows

It sparkles on dew-dazzled grass

And tames the dusty fallows

From cups it spills, in rip-tides kills

Too much or none; disaster

In midnight rain its soft refrain

Evokes passion's grandmaster

How cold the grave beneath its wave

But as the sun gets hotter

We tip the jug to fill our mug

And thank the Lord for water, water, water...

© Janet Martin

Written for Poetic Bloomings Prompt: Water, water everywhere