Of Disappointment and Destinies

Disappointment is not a destination

But sets out its stepping-stones

To refine, strengthen, condition

The unknowns becoming known

Disappointment is a teacher

And though reluctant we may be

We will ever be her student

Learning her humility

Disappointment is a shadow

Not a wall; it will pass by

As its bittersweet life-lessons

Tune the heart and keen the eye

Disappointment; tough task-master

But when all is said and done

She will make us kinder, wiser

Teaching appreciation

© Janet Martin

Daylight Dirge

Dusk does not wave congratulatory banners

For our wee triumphs; save for green leaf turning black

Against the deepening palette of dripping moments

Drawing star-frothed fabric across our backs

And it does not speak of breath-wrenching surrender

Because in the battle against Time and its touch

We cannot win; but watch mute mist cloak the valley

As summer and children drift from our clutch

Dusk does not tell of tortured heart-tangos

As the air spills dew-fragrant memories of youth

Into the darkness where earth slips beyond vision

And sable stillness whispers life’s timeless truths

Dusk, like a gentle mother of many

Does not scold or threaten as its shadow is cast

But tucks the chatter of sun-threaded hours

Softly and tenderly into the past

© Janet Martin

Doggerel Dance

 

Free, fluent motion

Smooth serenade-swirl

He, macho matador

She, just a girl

Suavely he lures her

Vows melt in her clutch

She covets his candor

He covets her touch

Sashay, slow and sultry

Of glance meeting glance

Sweet, sizzling circle

Tempestuous dance

Vortex of longing

Unravels and slips

He rushes toward her

She brushes his lips

Dangerous desire

Urgency implores

The cape falls beneath him

Somewhere the crowd roars

Apex of surrender

 Two shadows entwined

This is the tango

Of Muse and the mind

© Janet Martin

Poetry Jam invites us to Poetry of Dance

Image Source

Ethereal Exchanges

 

To pattern my wishes with ink in a poem

Spills nothing but fantasy

But to fold my pleas in whispers to Him

Returns sweet peace to me

To clutch the whims of my best intentions

Is to hope in foolish chance

To cling to His promises drives away demons

As I accept what He grants

To suffer life’s trial with knowledge, base; human

Will leave the soul to bleed  

To trust our weakness to His grace sufficient

Will satisfy every need

© Janet Martin

Image Source

Of Options and Ownership

Whether it comes in pink or gray wrapping, it requires from us the same.I took the gray photo today;) The pink one was a year ago when we were enjoying summer-like temps.

It comes, like many before

Its circuit from east to west

Requires from us nothing more

But just to do our best

By gifted breath we learn

It teaches, tries and tests

This day of no return

Deserves our very best

Before the veil of night

Shrouds its merit in rest

Will we have borne its plight

With our utter best?

 

For we are not our own

Nor by our own hand blessed

So love behooves us then

To give this day our best

It comes like many before

Traversing east to west

Dawn draws ajar its door

A day to do our best

© Janet Martin

...but to this man will I look, even to him

that is poor and of a contrite spirit and

trembles at my word. Isa. 66:2

Mother's Prayer While Waving Good-bye

Pray the Lord to guide our loved ones

He alone beholds each step

To be anxious about nothing

Means to leave them in His grip

Pray the Lord to bless and keep them

This old world is fraught with snares

But the Father loves His children

None escapes His tender care

Pray the Lord to watch above them

And surround them with His arms

Pray we rest upon His shoulder

Relinquishing fear's alarms

Pray the Lord to cheer their journey

And they do not strive in vain

Pray the Lord, if He is willing

That they all come home again

© Janet Martin

A Mother grows strong in waving, and warning, wondering and worrying...oops no, I mean PRAYING:)

What is the Color of Lonely?

 

Tell me again, what color is lonely

Is it the tears dripping from down-cast sky

Where pewter lashes in glass-icy-splashes

Weep a melancholy March-rain lullaby?

…or is it the color of blue lyrics moaning

In dusk’s moody madrigal, solemn and slow?

Is it the raw re-wind of moments intoning

Vexation’s vortex in love’s ebbing flow?

Tell me again, what color is longing?

Dripping from rafters of moonless, midnight deep

Is it the tincture of trampled, tarnished day-dreams?

Or echoes that waken when I want to sleep?

The palette of longing, what pigments adorn it?

What is the complexion of hunger and grief?

The storm-stricken ocean, do its shades rest upon it?

Or in arabesque descent of fall’s ruddy leaf?

Tell me again, is the flip-side of loving

Kaleidoscope sparkles or opaque-tinted vaunt?

What is the color of second-mile proving?

What are the hues of impressions that taunt?

Thought conjures glimpses of vague apparition

Vainly I strain, but can never quite tell

What are the colors of missing you, darling?

Is it the shade of a bottomless well?

© Janet Martin

Earth holds a longing

only Heaven can heal~

Perceptions

Once perhaps I thought that the beauty of love

Was a titillation of finger-tip art

Now I’m inclined to perceive that perhaps

‘Tis a double-edged mutilation of the heart

J~