Of Eons and Ink

The swell of spilled ink

Falls from ether brink

And none of us knows its full reach

Its thought-river rolls

From the whisper of souls

To thrill and to comfort and teach

We grapple inside

At the tug of its tide

Craving, rebelling, we fight

Keen intercourse

Of thought finding voice

Trembling and trusting, we write

Over Time’s ramparts

And ocean of years

Ink-rivers surge to a place

Of heart touching heart

Though oceans apart

Eons and ink interlace

© Janet Martin

Happy New Year!  

(Lord willing this little creek will keep trickling:)

J~

Worth Fighting For...

Nobody said it would be easy…

…these things worth having and living for,

Worth crying and dying and praying for

And we can never fully know

What lies in store

Beyond the silent war

…the heart-wrenching,

Fist-clenching,

Face-drenching fight

But God knows

so everything will be

All right

© Janet Martin

Dream-stealer...

He used to stand up straight and tall

The hills, why he could scale them all

He believed that dreams come true

And life was hope's grand avenue

But now his shoulders slump a bit

The dream-gleam is no longer lit

 For Criticism will destroy

And steal both dreamer and the boy

© Janet Martin

A Wish for Us...

…that we learn to savor life’s dissonance

As well as harmonies not quite so brusque

Joy is much more than a school-girl’s romance

Or summer sunlight splayed soft 'gainst blue dusk

I pray we learn in life’s keening caress

Of sorrow and winter-tried happiness

How to reverence more deeply the dance

…not to rebel in the teaching of trust

I wish for courage, not answers to things

Un-clarified on earth’s four-season swell

…that we learn to accept what God’s mercy brings

To tend our wee Garden and do it well

I wish to be thankful; not bound to The Past

For Time is a river; its current so fast

How swiftly again dear Auld Lang Syne rings

Its joy is not found in yesterday’s shell

© Janet Martin

Happy New Year and may God bless and keep!

I am undecided as to whether I will keep blogging in 2014. If I do then this comment will soon slip to the archives and if it remains here, it simply means I'm taking a break!

Year

Folded together

In a four-letter word

Hours of laughter

Or longing and hurt

Time, ever stealing

Like five p.m. blue

Over December’s

Dusk-drenched avenue

Then, every so often

We mark with a cheer

The end and beginning

Of something called

Year.

Into this four-letter

Eager embrace

Hellos and good-byes

Softly take their place

Life’s centuries

Of battle and romance

Recorded in unassuming

Four-digit stance

As heart-rending

Life changing

Days disappear

Into a cup that we simply call

Year.

The pier where summer

Slipped into fall

The tear that composed

Heart-madrigal

Climactic capsules

Of triumph, despair

Holding, letting go

Ephemeral square

Of learning and living

And faith versus fear

Folded into four letters

We simply call

Year.

© Janet Martin

It Is One A.M.

It is one a.m.

Pale moon reclines

A crescent-gem

Pinned to

Navy lapel

Of a minstrel

Unhindered

By hours

Or silver-soft dazzle

Of snow-flake showers

He plays his tune

On a phantom flute

Soloist serenading

Dark wood

Or poet or lover

We wait until

His song is over

Then

All is still

Save for the clock

That cannot choose

But must tick and tock

To mark time’s dues

But for a brief minute

We lie on the hem

Of silver-soft nothing

It is one a.m.

© Janet Martin

I was about to turn off all the lights but stood a moment to admire the night...there is something rare and brooding about one a.m.

...on that note, good-night!

oops, good morning;)

Beginnings

 

It does not stop

Yet

Endings are merely beginnings

Of what is next

Parting begins the waiting

Until we meet

Waiting begins the trusting

Of life’s bitter-sweet

Trusting begins the shaping

Of our faith

Faith begins the Hoping

After death

And death begins

The hereafter

The hereafter

Has no end

Time does not stop

Yet

But it will,

My friend

And we should give earnest heed

To where we will be

When this life’s end

Begins

Eternity

© Janet Martin

From Me to You...A New Year's Wish