Birthday Card

Fresh frame of hope stirs, imparting its reach

To unmarked pages of lessons to teach

Up from our slumber we rise to embrace

 The soft unveiling of mercy’s washed face

God’s gracious guidance of Light does not fail

Dawn’s woven wonder in soundless exhale

Melts into morning the darkest of night

Stunning our gaze with its faithful delight

Stitched to the vesture of past, yesterday

Will not torment us again with its fray

But from love’s wellspring that never runs dry

Beauteous advent of Day fills the sky

What will the color of its garment be?

What will it spill to fill vast history?

Momentous miracle, blue, gold and gray

God-granted gift in the birth of Today

© Janet Martin

Willing Winter Away

 Dreaming dreams of Garden-days, Sun-warm kisses on my face, Heaven-dirt between my toes, 

where another summer grows...

From ether vaults mute moments drip

Easing tired tempests from Time’s grip

To past’s eternal deep

For they are frayed and weary-worn

With garments thin and tatter-torn

And it is time to sleep

The poverty of stricken hill

Pines for the laughing daffodil

Where moody winds moan wild

And every tree is like a maid

With arms spread wide to gowns of jade

And nature’s favored child

Somewhere beneath white satin sheen

Begins the stir of evergreen

In Mother Nature’s womb

For she must be delivered of

Those petal-things we dearly love

Of summer-splendid bloom

The kindling of a bandit-breeze

Arouses raindrop revelries

And sassy robin-trill

Where winter reigned, so cold and proud

The color of a kinder cloud

Gentles its stubborn will

© Janet Martin

Ah, Spring Begins

Ah, spring begins,

That thing of grins

And dappled sun

On mead and brook

Ah, spring begins

And winter’s sins

Melt into bygones

Record-book

Ah, spring at last

Flee, icy blast

For you have worn

Your welcome thin

A train of blooms

Wakes in the tombs

Where summer’s garden

Must begin

Ah, darling spring

We dance and sing

To know that soon

The storm is spent

…and tender green

Will spill its sheen

Where now the limb

Is winter-bent

Ah, spring is here

Earth’s belvedere

Awaits the touch

Of nature’s lilt

Where soft and warm

Her gentle charm

Will melt the threads

Of winter’s quilt

© Janet Martin

Tokens of Time

Where do I put you now, dear?

Where do we go from here?

We’ve known each other so long, my sweet

But always with farewell, I fear

We’ve laughed the laughter of poets

And we’ve strung an ocean of tears

Over the lintels of one a.m.

We’ve rent the night with thought-years

Where do I put echoed pleasure?

Or pain too precious to heal?

Where does one keep the treasure of grief

Rendered where time-tokens keel?

Where do I put you, darling

We need an eternal home

Ah yes, I have found the answer

I’ll keep you forever in poem

© Janet Martin

What's in a Poem?

What's in a poem? she asks. (a must read!)

What's in a poem?

An arrangement of words?

A painting of things

Not seen but heard?

God's poetry drenches

The universe

By it we bless His name

Or curse...

What's in a poem?

Soul-strings of thought

Glorious gathering

Of tittle and jot

Stealing our breath

In rudiments stirred

By desperate release

Of heart-blood into word

What's in a poem?

This rhythm and rhyme

Of tasting life's music

One note at a time

...of drinking love's beauty

Again and again

Preserved for the ages

In poem-refrain

What's in a poem?

Feeling's epicenter

Heart-hurricane

Or touch slow and tender

Ravishing Rembrandt

Stunning our gaze

Stanza-vacation

Word-fire blaze

What's in a poem?

Ink-groaning travail

Laughter and sorrow

From life's sacred grail

Muse, mercy, magic

Miracle-form

Wonder-spun wake

Of soundless soul-storm

Janet~

Poetry Math

Heart

+

Soul

=

Poetry

Appointment Card

There is no date

On this card,

So we refuel vehicles,

Rake the yard

Sip coffee

Make love,

Scrub, scold,

The treasure-trove

Of all things human

Closely aligned

With an appointment

That sometimes slips our mind

As we seek, find

Hold, let go

And marvel at the beauty

Of sunset on snow

Or worry that duty

Is bigger than hope

As we try to balance

On life’s one way slope

Drawing us nearer

Not to graves of sod

But to faith-and-trembling,

Face-to-face

Appointment with God

© Janet Martin

Practically Paradise

It’s not the big things I’ll miss

When you go, but the little things

These make a house a home

And tug on love’s heart-strings

And I smile now as you move

Slowly, rapt concentration

The titter of tea-cups and silver

Sing of evening celebration

Delivery complete; Tea-tray touch-down

On coffee-table landing strip

Scent of vanilla-rooibos

Teases the air as we sip

…And chat about little nothings

Which are really not nothings at all

But will tune the whisper of echoes

In mom’s memory-madrigal

© Janet Martin

It's not the big things, but the little things

that make a house a home! 

 

...this was re-iterated just now as I noticed the word POP (aka soda) on the corner of my grocery list. 

Hey, its always worth a try, at least that's what Matt would say:)

    

a few more 'little everythings'

2 days before Emily's wedding last fall my sister-in-law gave me a lily that she dug from her garden so I quickly plopped it in a planter...we've been enjoying calla lilies this winter-long...

...little guy I babysit LOVES apples!

 It's raining right now. This might bring an end to the after-supper cross-country skiing;( frown, ...oops, smile :)! In spiteof this longer winter there are things I'll miss...

Invitation Card

Blush ribbon teases the dividing line twixt night and dawn

Before the sky is wide awake and all its slumber gone

Life’s daily grind both cruel and kind spills time beneath our feet

For we are creatures born to suffer for our bread and meat

That far-off land of monuments where all our memories dwell

Will soon claim what we shape today within its silver swell

But now, before the quietude of midnight fills this span

We have an invitation to do all the good we can

The circuit of the sun is swift and does not linger long

Before we hear the farewell notes of wafting vesper-song

And time is short; its rubric of brief three-score year and ten

Is not a guarantee; and passes like the formless wind

The past is bottomless and always hungry, so it seems

It brushes boyhood from a lad within its moment-streams

And what may seem a trifling portion in its tick-tock pantomime

Accumulates its day-by-day to render a lifetime

A Gracious Hand of beckoning flings wide hope’s gleaming gates

Discourse of daily reckoning begins; dawn dissipates

Where we behold God’s invitation gladdening Time’s sky

And how we use His offering is up to you and I

© Janet Martin