If I Met Me...

If I had to look at me instead of you

Would I want to be my friend?

Would I care to get to know me better?

Or would I be content

To smile and nod politely

Careful not to meet my eye

Lest I desired something more

Than how are you and then, good-bye

© Janet Martin

He Tells Me...

He tells me the pizza isn’t ready yet

His accent is heavy…what language? I cannot tell

He tells me the price…

I search for the change to make 58 cents

He tells me not to worry about it

It doesn’t matter, he smiles

Then he tells me about the kids that come in after school; hungry

He asks them what kind of pizza slice they would like

They tell him, ‘we have no money’

He tells me how he likes to give them pizza anyhow, just to see them smile

He tells me again; ‘it doesn’t matter

It’s just money and I have enough to get by’

I tell him, 'those kids will remember you forever'
His voice is husky with emotion as he tells me 'I hope so'

He tells me then, with sudden tone change

I had two once; and a wife

He tells me about the war in Yugoslavia

Poof!  and everything he had was gone

He tells me that life in Canada is good

I ask him about his loss; how long ago?

…and he tells me; long ago, thirteen years

I tell him, but thirteen years isn’t that long

With tears he tells me, no, it isn’t

And he tells me when I ask, his first language was Serbian

His second language was Russian; no good in Canada

He tells me he took six months of English school…

He owns two pizza shops and life in Canada is good

© Janet Martin

this happened a few hours before I wrote this. Yes, it is true.

Of Empty Beaches...and Love

another Sonnet...

Across the canvas of this little day

The purple of fall’s waning hour creeps

As we recall the cerulean deeps

Of summer where life’s tender echoes splay

The sea rushes across the quiet beach

Where shrieks of children-laughter tunes our thought

Enlarging the expanse of what is not

And what remains forever out of reach

To love, and then let go is love’s great test

For what we truly love we never own

Yet, if we love we’ll never be alone

When time extends its hand with love's request

I hold you close in spite of what I know

God, give me strength when it’s time to let go

© Janet Martin

Of Ellipses and Moments...

There are no ellipses between moments

One melds into the next

Thus I want to endeavor

To love you in moment-bests

One moment with you darling

Simply leaves me longing for

Its full measure without parting

For at least one moment more

Farewell of fingers tracing

Is love’s inevitable

But heart-to-heart embracing

Is love’s subliminal

There are no ellipses between moments

They pulse in farewell’s kiss

But moment-hope anticipation

Is love’s tender-sweetest bliss

© Janet Martin

When the Love Falls

Of Interests and Others...

Do you like to be encouraged?

Encourage others

Do you like to be appreciated?

Appreciate others

Do you like to be needed?

Need others

Do you like to be praised?

Praise others

Do you like to be smiled to?

Smile to others

Do you like to be missed?

Miss others

Do you like to be ‘heard’?

‘Hear’ others

Do you like to be loved?

Love others

Because

In the end

Others

Are much

Like

Ourselves

© Janet Martin

We Pass This Way but Once

 ( I do not know the author of the above quote, but I like it)

Poetic Bloomings indulges The Sonnet today.

We pass this way but once, no trial run

Time is a live-and-learning entity

It doles in moments its shadow and sun

While we accept that what must be will be

Do moments spiral; do they drip or glide?

Where is the fount of Time’s ceaseless discourse?

Without consent we join its forward-slide

Age keens the senses to its soundless force

Intangible, its urgent undertow

Stirs apathy to sudden consciousness

Of moment-dispensation’s virgin flow

Into the grasp of human wantonness

We pass this way but once and we must choose

The handling of pure moments; use, abuse

© Janet Martin

One Certainty Abides...

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt The Sonnet.


The SONNET is a poem, properly expressive of a single, complete thought, idea, or sentiment. It consists of 14 lines, usually in iambic pentameter, with rhymes arranged according to one of certain definite schemes. In the strict or Italian form it is divided into a major group of 8 lines (the octave) followed by a minor group of 6 lines (the sestet). An a-b-b-a, a-b-b-a pattern became the standard for Italian sonnets. For the sestet there were two different possibilities: c-d-e-c-d-e and c-d-c-c-d-c. In time, other variants on this rhyming scheme were introduced, such as c-d-c-d-c-d.
The English form break the poem into 3 quatrains followed by a couplet. Each line containing ten syllables and written in iambic pentameter, in which a pattern of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable is repeated five times. The rhyme scheme in a Shakespearean (English) sonnet is a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g; the last two lines are a rhyming couplet. Alternate Rhyme Scheme: a-a-b-b, c-c-d-d, e-e-f-f, g-g

Future does not conform to fantasy

We cannot glimpse the portend of its will

Nor does it murmur hints of good or ill

We press in moments to its mystery

Desires of the heart will ebb and flow

And fickle are the wishes of our want

The past seeks to remind, to teach or haunt

The wise man learns to learn then let it go

One knows our future’s intricate design

While we were still a whisper in the womb

He shaped the numbered days of our bloom

Into His perfect will our wills resign

One certainty abides in our defense

From seeds of choice we reap its consequence

© Janet Martin

Of Grace, Hope and Truth

God’s truth is not annulled though centuries

Of sun and rain, of toil and spoil pass by

Though mortal passions rise; like summer’s breeze

Soon they are gone; to sleep beneath earth’s sky

An acorn struggles to its pinnacle

Time is the master of its little jot

The mighty oak tree, nature’s miracle

Crumbles to dust again and all is naught

But heaven’s truth; eternal and secure

Though generations pass; it shall endure

***

What is man’s hope beyond earth’s sullen grave?

What is the measure of moments that slip?

Earth’s transient gold and silver cannot save

Their worth is but a crumb upon the lip

God is not mocked; what He has said will be

And demons tremble at His Holiness

His sacred passion spans eternity

A fool despises Truth and Righteousness

His grace abides; we hope beyond life’s loss

Time cannot void the power of the Cross

***

Did heaven’s Darling die to save but few?

What is the hope sustaining mortal breath?

I could not breathe one joy, but for this Truth

His Grace will be enough in life and death

Failure would be man’s single Surety

But for a perfect Lamb to satisfy

The Love of He who died to set us free

And there are none who do not qualify

He died for sinners; sinners all are we

Time does not change this Truth that sets us free

***

His love is not a ball-and-chain duress

He does not bind us; no one is His slave

But servants we, in humble gratefulness

Choose to believe; His blood alone can save

Us from eternal hell; our just reward

But Perfect love beheld our hopeless dread

In Love’s compassion Jesus Christ the Lord

Offered Himself to die in our stead

In Him alone we know that we can face

Both life and death; for we are saved by grace

***

Eternity; a vast uncharted sea

Not marked by moments or hours or years

A day, a thousand years; how can it be

That they are equal where Time disappears?

This life is but a vapor on the wind

Soon we will bow the knee before His throne

As every earthly boast is left behind

Each man will meet his Maker one on one

And only we will answer for our Choice

Did we say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to Heaven’s Voice?

***

Three-score-years and ten or perhaps four

This is the span of man’s mortality

Dare we to turn our backs; coldly ignore

The Voice of He who died to set us free?

The fool says in His heart ‘there is no God’

Pity the one who chooses evil’s lie

Though ‘dust to dust’ claims flesh back to the sod

The soul within will not and cannot die

To all who accept His truth and believe

To them, eternal life they shall receive

***

Will we spurn hope’s lone Truth; challenge or laugh

At Love; and coldly spit against His face?

While mercy’s offering pleads on our behalf

And Love expands Time’s gasp and thus His grace

Will we in blind indifference ignore

The Call of He who paid our debt of guilt?

Will we despise His knocking on our door

And seal our fate; regardless of Blood spilt?

Oh, who can bear His Wrath when grace shall cease?

Or who can fathom Heaven’s sweet release?

 © Janet Martin