Of Footprints, Fantasies and Forgetting

And so I went back there to stand

Where we had walked and talked that day

But the shadows in the sands

Of Time were strange, misshapen gray

The songs we listened to and danced

Like children on sweet summer’s shore

Seemed to have rendered their romance

To seasons and the ocean’s roar

And when I went back there tonight

In search of what we had that day

All I could find in the moonlight

Were footprints that had washed away

© Janet Martin

Cyber-Soulmates

Our paths cross

We never meet

Save for a dance

On cyber-street

Our eyes touch

A common place

Of poetry

In cyber-space

Our thoughts entwine

World’s apart

There’s no such thing

As a cyber-heart

Janet~

Thank-you for dropping by on this cyber-porch wherever and whoever in the world you are. I hope you are blessed and encouraged for we are in this life together.

Of Sea-songs and Life-shores or Life-songs and Sea-shores

Oh, tender place where we embrace

And trace the face of lithesome years

Oh, paradox of ticks and tocks

Pleasing, teasing thought’s atmospheres

Oh vesper-lay, soft you replay

The memories of home sweet home

Mind-madrigals as season’s pulse

A steady, silent metronome

Oh, chanting rhyme of rifting time

Of still-life eons you employ

Good-bye, hello, hold on, let go

An ebb and flow of grief and joy

Oh summer dusk of mist and musk

Rousing a phantom pantomime

Of clocks and locks, of ticks and tocks

Shaping a little thing called Time

Oh, subtle tide, how brief Time’s stride

How permanent its destiny

We touch the sand upon a strand

Leading to vast eternity

© Janet Martin

Why are we so reluctant to speak of the inevitable; eternity?

June

June; hearth of summer’s opulence

Of greenest greens and purest blues

Where daisy-gardens gild the fence

And garnish hillside avenues

June; luxury of summer’s glades

Before parched landscapes gasp and groan

Relenting to the warmer shades

Of gold and russet undertone

June; canopy of summer's mirth
Of butterfly and bloom-brushed slope
As from the pulsing vaults of earth
Nature exalts its Author's hope

June; rhapsody of wren and rose

In manuscripts written by God

For no mortal can quite compose

The poetry of sky and sod

© Janet Martin

Night-whisperer

The pink orb drops away, away

A killdeer trills its farewell lay

From meadow swathed in purple mist

Where wafts the scent of hay, dew-kissed

Softly the bluer ramparts lower

Closing the lids of child and flower

Folding to fast, eternal rest

Each moment cradled and caressed

As willow tree and zephyr sigh

A slow and sultry lullaby

Now thought grows long, tender and deep

Soon weariness will yield to sleep

As pliant hours pour their mien

In raven draught across the green

Over the crag and trampled grass

Night tips the darkness from its glass

And we borrow from wiser men

Words to sustain midnight’s mute pen

Straining to hear the words they speak

In whispered tears upon the cheek

© Janet Martin

What We Do

We know they have caught

More than we can ever say

But we try to give them

A little advice anyway

We know for all the words

Expressed in concern

It’s what we do

Whereby they learn

We know now

Childhood is soon gone

Shaped in essence

By what we, their parents, have done

© Janet Martin

A child is taught by what is caught.

Yes, that proverb is true!

May we be inspired

 To work with them, play with them;

Laugh with them and pray with them!

                                                                         and listen too.

It's easy to beat ourselves up with the 'coulda-shoulda-stuff' when looking back, but today is a gift to do! Let's do what we ought to today!

Of Realizations and Routines

 Emily (middle) with her sisters, Victoria (left) and Melissa (right) on the evening we celebrated Emily's last birthday as Miss Emily. Next year she is hoping to be Mrs.

It slams, like a wave on my back

Unexpectedly; its pain

A Realization of what will never

Come to pass

Again

Surely love should don calluses

But its pain is raw and keen

I've learned by heart its ache

In give-and-take

Routine

And suddenly, unexpectedly

Like a wave’s stinging smack

I feel the grief of disbelief

In what I can never have

Back

© Janet Martin

I am constantly being hit with the realization that life as I knew it is over soon. The, 'this is the last first day of summer with our whole family living at home... this is the last time the peonies will bloom before the wedding... this is the last time...it goes on and on, But, love adapts with change!(and most of our 'lasts' we do not recognize; most of our 'lasts' we do not know)

Another realization I am admitting to, is that no matter how often I say ‘Use the closet!’ they will never use the closet. While I was writing this poem I tripped on some shoes on my way to the laundry room...

Summer Invitation

The dew-drenched dawn ignites the lawn

In dazzling invitation

The charcoal crypt of night has slipped

To our imagination

Now feathered choir and blossomed spire

In blameless exaltation

Urge us to come and join the song

Of morning celebration

Past falls away, we do not stay

To till again its garden

But hope’s embrace in dew-drenched grace

Extends its gentle pardon

So you and I should fully try

Not to squander its hours

Yet, we should sit a little bit

And listen to the flowers

For soon their bloom will fill the tomb

Where summer’s solstice lingers

We cannot feel Time’s ether reel

Slipping through our fingers

© Janet Martin

Victoria was reading this as I wrote and she offered her bit of advice;

‘But if ya’ stop to smell the roses do it quick or a bumble-bee’s liable to nail ya’

Quoted from Si; Duck Dynasty

Happy First Day of Summer, y'all!