Of Moment-tides

In the transparent hull of moments

We spill dreams, triumph and tears

Leaving in their wake behind us

Drops that turn to weeks, then years

Last night the still and sable hollow

Of deep-fall tranquility

In a foray of keen echoes

Hurled its torrents over me

Translucent, its mighty upheaval

Vexed me from Time’s tear-stained graves

Where the dream mislaid the dreamer

In sheer moment tidal-waves

But still the gossamer allotment

Of Love’s patient mercy-stream

Washes far the deep-night tempest

Where dawn’s virgin waters gleam

And we, with out-stretched hope approach them

Point our sterns into the glow

For the moment-faring traveler

Cannot quell its ceaseless flow

© Janet Martin

Oh, Hear the Message of the Bells

Oh, see the spark; contagious hope

Glinting in eager youngster’s gaze

The silent night out on the slope

The welcome in love’s home-fire blaze

Snowflakes in spiraling descent

Decorate each ridge and rill

Season of Joy’s glorious advent

Warms us in spite of winter’s chill

Oh, feel the wonderment of it

Revive us with its rare refrain

And maybe for a little bit

We might feel like a child again

The music of Hope’s perfect love

Renews the gladness in our mirth

For Jesus left His throne above

To bring tidings of peace to earth

Oh, hear the message of the bells

Ring out a testament of cheer

For in the happy song that swells

We know that Christmas time is near

Oh, may its mercy and goodwill

Tune everything we say and do

And may its Spirit kindly fill

Our hearts and hands the whole year through

© Janet Martin

Dream

Trembling I sought you

And gently you came

Now the night fills

With echoes of your name

Love, loss and longing

Intertwine

Clinging in tangles

Of tattered vine

Trembling I held you

But just as I feared

In the first light of morning

You disappeared

© Janet Martin

Who Knows?

Who knows what the impending season holds

Or landscapes poised to cradle the embrace

Of Time’s imbuement ere the past enfolds

The serenade of moments sealed in place

Who knows what may befall in the half-breath

Of present we inhale; history’s clasp

Exhales in laughter, tears, in life and death

Who knows what waits beyond our present-gasp?

Who sees the crypt groaning with broken dreams?

The obscure deaths within, not eulogized

Or where the private tear of sorrow gleams

Because we grieve alone the dream that died

And who can tell the measure of a man

Beneath the quiet veil of skin; God can

© Janet Martin

This morning, as I stared across the mute landscape

I caught myself wondering what would transpire before these fields are green again...

I Collect Rolling Pins...

 Poetics Aside Prompt: Write a poem about something you collect (or would collect if you could).

I collect rolling pins

Because I think they are nice

But, if you plan on breaking in

I suggest you think twice!

Janet~

My Heart-art Collection

Poetics Aside Prompt: Write a poem about something you collect (or would collect if you could).

I collect original pieces of art

Displayed in galleries of my heart

I’ve seen the color of love’s soft sigh

Blend with tears of hello and good-bye

I’ve kept the bittersweet, beautiful ache

That only the pigment of love can make

I seal the echo of summer’s faint call

Where oceans of memory rise and fall

The spectrum of love’s vast and vivid display

Steals both my breath and my years away

Oh can't you hear that plaintive chant?

Of moments as they lilt and dance

...tuning the corridors of the heart

As we marvel at love's treasured works of art

© Janet Martin

 

First Snow-fall...a wordle challenge

It fell on earth’s lethargy

A crystalline sash

Held on the garnet

Of mountain ash

The earth is still

Where autumnal heap

Of russet fleck

And farewells sleep

The scent of Christmas

Begins to fill

Our thoughts with hope

Peace and goodwill

Somewhere above

Earth’s snow-skimmed bend

Our load of trouble

Will come to end

But for now

Heaven pleases our sight

As autumn is bedded

In snow tonight

Where laden spruce

And hemlocks sway

And autumn’s girth

Is tucked away

© Janet Martin

Words from the Sunday Whirl: fell, held, still, fill, heap, fleck, skimmed, sway, end, load, scent, sight

Opposite Poem...from Why Is It? to It Is This Way

Poetics Aside Prompt: Write an opposite poem. That is, write a poem with the opposite perspective, conclusion, or form of a prior poem in the month.

 

Why is it

When we shake our fists at God

We forget

To unclench our fingers

And stare at our palms…

…are there nail scars there?

Why is it

That we hunger and thirst

For crumbs on the floor

When the Banquet Feast

Is prepared and ready to serve

On the table

Why is it

That even as we cry ‘all is grace’

Doubt is an evil serpent

With fangs gaping

And all we can do is cry

‘I believe’

And ‘help my unbelief’?

Why is it

When our mouths hemorrhage with curses

We forget;

The one thing we can never utter

Is redemption

His final words

Before He died

Why is it

That we choose to

Die of thirst

in the wilderness

Beside a well

Of Living Water?

 Opposite...

It is this way…

When we quiet our thoughts

We remember

As we fold our hands

To see His palms

And the nail-scars there…

It is this way…

Though we deserve to starve

Even His crumbs are a miracle

And the feast on the Table

Never depletes

It is enough

It is this way

Even as we cry ‘why’?

Faith is the wonder

Of things heavenly

Succoring our disbelief

With power that

Can never be explained

It is this way…

As our hearts shape His praises

We remember

The fullness of Him

From our pitiful state

He saves us

It is this way…

His love for our hate

His Bread for our hunger

His Water for our thirst

Eternal life, through Him

In place of death

© Janet Martin