Poor Old November

November night is weighted; adumbral 

His early shadow that climbs the bare ridge

Hovers then covers earth’s wind-riddled lintel

Snuffing the silver that winds ‘neath the bridge

Somehow the shape of November night’s darkness

Keens the remembrance of what is no more

Even as I sense his brooding of moments

Nudging the hour to yesterday’s shore

Summer’s soft zephyr dons blue hat and mittens

Trading its laughter for roguish acclaim

Now he wanders lonely, like a lover smitten

With the enigma of yesterday’s fame

November night is a melancholy fellow

Tapping ice tear-drops on my window-pane

If he were May I would open my window

But poor old November must stay in the rain

© Janet Martin

Poor old November, I thought as we raced inside, shivering and slamming doors quickly lest he somehow get in. Even the shades are drawn...

If We All Loved...

  

 

 

If we all loved each other

The way that He loved us

Then we would glimpse in every face

The beauty of Jesus

No banner-covered coffins

Would be ushered through the town

No gossip would be whispered

And no one would be cast down

No phrases like ‘world hunger’

Or ‘choose life’, ‘stop bullying’

Would plead from neon billboards

There would be no envying

No war-torn land, no blood-stained sand,

No violence or spite

If we all loved each other

Every wrong would be made right

And life’s burden would be lighter

Not weighted by greed or pride

It’s darker days made brighter

By the love on every side

If we all loved each other

The way that He loved us

Then we would all be family

And our hope, Jesus

© Janet Martin

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13: 34-35

Of Maiden Voyages

Climb aboard
For this ship
Is about to embark
On its maiden voyage,
Ahoy!


Today will never
Sail Time's sea again
Let's make it a journey
Of joy!

Janet~

Happy sailing. May our waters be calm, but with just enough wave to keen our trust. May our skies be fair, but with just enough cloud to be beautiful!

my laundry seas await:)

Sharing a favorite poem today

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 1807–1882

55. A Psalm of Life

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!—
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!	5
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;	10
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating	15
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!	20
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us	25
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,	30
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,	35
Learn to labor and to wait.

 

Rendezvous with Regret

 

November's PAD Challenge Day 3.For today’s prompt, write a “the last time I was here” poem.

I do not come here often
For I cannot bear
Its mantle of memory
Its grief and despair
But life hands us lessons
We cannot forget
Yet, I cannot tarry
Too long
In regret

The last time I was here
I vowed, not again
Regret is a futile
And profitless pain
After forgiveness
Though I may not forget
I must not return
To wallow
In regret

Janet~

"If we spend our time with regrets over yesterday, and worries over what might happen tomorrow, we have no today in which to live."
-­-Anonymous

Clean Sheet

November's PAD(poem-a-day) challenge, day 4.For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) Sheet,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write the poem.

It lies before us; exhaled ‘cross the earth

Ready to suffer our scribbles and spills

Over and over mercy proves its worth

Spreading a clean sheet beneath our quills

Soon our kisses will cover the page

Mingling perhaps with a tear and a sigh

Morning unfurls beneath us, a stage

Pristine invitation sprawled out to the sky

What will it hold when dusk folds it again?

Tucking it into the pocket of Past

Testaments uttered not by ink and pen

But by our choices; forever Time-cast

© Janet Martin

 

But For a Bit of Ink and Thought

 Whenever I have a few minutes to kill I enjoy a few poems from my poetry cupboard...

But for a bit of thought and ink

Spilled earnestly upon a page

Names like Longfellow, Tennyson

Would lie in some forgotten age

And we would not be awed and thrilled

If thought in ink was never spilled

But for a bit of ink and thought

Falling madly or glad or sad

Then Shakespeare, Frost, Milton and Keats

And Coleridge would all be dead

Wilde, Riley, Whitman, Kipling, Clare

Would decay in a grave somewhere

But for a bit of thought and ink

We would not recognize this cast

The Brownings, Blakes and Dickinsons

All would be buried in the past

But for a bit of time and ink

Long now we taste their thought and drink

© Janet Martin

The Momentum of a Moment

The momentum of a moment is a silent, subtle surge

It inspires tender love songs and our deepest, dearest dirge

And It tugs from seed the wonder of a hand we cannot see

Then enfolds again its splendor to earth’s season-deity

An intangible tsunami is this tiny tick and tock

As It pulses in a countdown from an impalpable clock

It’s as searing as those sorrows that our mouths can never tell

And It fills unfathomed eons in that gulf twixt heav’n and hell

The momentum of a moment is a gossamer eclipse

Of the present, past and future pausing briefly on our lips

As the silk of half-breath grandeur slips into the by and by

Soon we follow its meander to that place beyond the sky

The momentum of a moment melds the bitter with the sweet

A kaleidoscope of learning as life’s light and shadow meet

And it blends within its bearing both defeat and victories

Shaping in its brief way-faring the expanse of centuries

© Janet Martin

Love

   

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 1 John 4:10

Image Source; pinterest

The whole world cries for it

The soldier dies for it

The young maid sighs for it

Love

The mourner mourns for it

The drifter burns for it

The scorner spurns,

Yet yearns for it

Love

The preacher prays for it

The lonely man pays for it

The gambler plays for it

Love

The miser saves for it

The beggar craves for it

The rich man slaves for it

Love

The devil lied for it

The sinner cried for it

The Savior died for it

Love

© Janet Martin