Trying to Explain a Mother's Love

 

It is sadness;

Rich and overflowing

And full of joy

But how can you know?

Until you pour out your love

Over and over and over

In preparation

Of letting go

It is gladness;

Burgeoning with

Breath’s fullest sorrow

And we did not know

How holding, scolding, and folding you

To our hearts

Would please and pain us so

It is perfect;

Equivalent measure

Of bitter and sweet

Fills our cup of joy

Nothing on the face of this earth

Can compete

With a mother’s love

For her precious girl or boy

It is forever:

Whether you are far away

Young or old

This we know

A mother's love

Rises above

The holding and letting go

© Janet Martin

...she wept as she told me of her her middle-aged son's suffering and how she must leave to be with him as he spends the last days with his dying wife.

Fit for Kings (the Epulaeryu)

 

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt the Epulaeryu.

The “Epulaeryu” poem is about delicious food. It consists of seven lines with thirty-three (33) syllables. The first line has seven syllables, the second line five, the third line seven, the fourth line five, the fifth line five, the sixth line three, and the seventh line has only one syllable which ends with an exclamation mark. Each line has one thought relating to the main course. Therefore, this new poetic form, the Epulaeryu, which has corresponding lines built around the main course, and ending with an exclamation point, concludes with the ending line expressing the writer’s excitement and feelings about the poem.

The humble, boiled potato

Deemed the beggars fare

Seems ordinary, simple

Until sprinkled with

Rich, hearty laughter

And chatter.

Love!

© Janet Martin

 I caught myself sighing at the thought of boiled potatoes for supper...again! My kids love them and I glimpsed a re-play of past 'boiled potato suppers' as they mashed them, adding salt or pepper and a bit of butter while laughing, arguing chattering about the day... m-m-m-m!  Love makes every meal king-worthy.

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Learning to Fly

I read this quote here: "Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."  ~T.S. Eliot

…so I tell her the words

I always wanted to hear

‘Trust faith, take risks,

Learn to fly, my dear’

For we’ll never know

If we stay, perched on our feet

What lies beyond

Where the sea and sky meet

© Janet Martin

The Truth about Women (an edited re-post)

We were watching

Shop Around the Corner

When suddenly I saw her

In my peripheral view

Watching the movie

Twixt chatter and knitting

Suddenly it hit me

She is growing up too

For one wink a girl

Then forever a woman

I study her profile

Her nose, her chin

Somewhere between breakfast

And warm hugs at bedtime

I tenderly wonder

When did ‘she’ begin?

She turns to look at me

The woman inside her

Is restless and eagerly

Waiting to bloom

She does not know

Of the urge rushing through me

To hold back the moments

The hours consume

Inside every girl

Is the bud of a woman

Time will unfold

Its intent willingly

Inside every woman

In spite of the ages

Is part of the girl

That she used to be

© Janet Martin

...a little sentimental, I know, but our 'baby' turned 12 on Saturday!

Poets United shines on Women today.

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

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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

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