Of Vain Vexation

Morning broods, like love disappointed

Familiarity juxtaposed,

Where Unknown wafts, an untold story

Ere its fortune is disclosed

Premise of love’s expectation

Tests the will twixt hand and heart

Perhaps we will always wonder

At ‘what if’s’ and unveiled art

What of all these years then, darling?

Will we find the words to say

Enough, or will they fade like dew and

Kisses counted yesterday?

Want vexes imagination

History exhumes its grave

Yet, it seems the explanation

Of its proof is all we have

Time is too short for lamenting

Hollows too vast for its might

Love demands our full attention

While we try to get it right

© Janet Martin

Of Moments Gathered In...

  

The above pics were taken a few days after  May 2nd, 1998 when Matthew was born...today on his 16th birthday 2014 I am taking a few comparison shots because there is nothing 'hatching' as  'little Melissa' excitedly reported 'way back when', that 'the dandelions are hatching!'

Earth is trying to muster a few brave shoots. That year my garden was planted. No one here has a seed in the ground yet. That year spring was an 'early' exception and this year later than I can ever remember...

The over-and-done is swiftly spun

The kiss of death wafts where

We laugh and run beneath a sun

Hungry for season-fare

The by-and-by soon keens our sigh

Its morrow, yesterday

And my, oh my, how soft good-bye

Silvers its gold and gray

The daffodil and tulip spill

Their splash of petal-art

Where moment-will and memories fill

The garden of the heart

…as foot-loose joy of little boy

And freckle-friendly grin

Will soon deploy life’s keen alloy

Of moments gathered in

© Janet Martin 

From Whence It Came...

Recently each day flaunts a new robe of gray; we try not to groan as we whisper, 'Thy will be done'.

We cannot force the mute discourse of moments as they flow

Green, gray and gold of May unfolds its bud of want and woe

The stricken slope of barren hope before the sheaf of leaf

Must wait the touch of Time and such to temper our belief

The emptiness of sweet success stuns vain ability

How soon its cup must be filled up with what is yet to be

Yet, twixt bud closed and fallen Rose a glorious interlude

Of have and hold sustains where cold and bolder banes exude

The living room of bud and bloom and faded aftermath

Of what has been and what will be embraces our path

As tick-tock flight of wrong and right, of yearning, learning leap

Soon gathers in joy and chagrin to Time’s eternal sleep

The opulence of new-born chance drenches dawn’s gifted grace

Where pantomime of summer-time, autumn-winter-spring trace

A scarlet thread of hope and dread within live-laugh-love’s claim

For soon the swoon of bud and bloom returns from whence it came

© Janet Martin

After the Poetry Rush

 After 30 days of poetry challenges things seem...quiet.

Silence sweeps deserted streets

Where cheerio and laughter drenched

The air with glee and poetry

As Muse and wanderlust were quenched

The café stares at empty chairs

Its quiet like a solemn dirge

Of love’s lament for seasons spent

After farewells and darkness merge

…and piazzas where poets strolled

Or lolled to watch the passers-by

Are empty, save for stragglers bold

Enough to brave its last good-bye

…as lush hush sweeps deserted streets

Like barren beach in fall gloaming

Where wanton air is gray and bare

After the rush of poeming

© Janet Martin

Let's Call it a Day

A carry-over from the PAD challenge prompt yesterday; let's call it a day! Guess what; it is almost sunny!! We have been and are going to be wet, wet, wet for a little while yet...

Let’s call it a day

I know, it isn’t night

But Time has much too much to tease

A poet’s appetite

And I would hate to miss

Its marvel of romance

Because I didn’t taste its kisses

When I had the chance

Maybe another day

We’ll work til way past dark

But now I want to hear the hope

Of bud bejeweled bark

And Time waits for no man

Although we dare not shirk

Our Duty for too long, sometimes

We need a break from work

The wanderer is rich

In things money can’t buy

He marvels how the earth flows like

A freeway to the sky

And every season God

Embellishes its lea

With miracles to rare for word

In nature’s poetry

So, let’s call it a day

Though it is barely noon

The banister where children play

Outgrows us far too soon

And how sad it would be

To grow old without rhyme

Missing God’s poetry because

We didn’t have the time

© Janet Martin

Thursday Thoughts on Moments

Time traipses foot-loose across centuries

Molding its moments into memories

Touch, taste and treasure each moment with care

For soon it will fill Past’s immutable stare

***

The doggerel of daydreams is a lovely fantasy

But it cannot replace this day God gave to you and me

***

We would do well to simply wish

For the moment within our dish

Magnificence of moment-gold

Splashes into the cup we hold

For who can know and who can tell

What shade will fill tomorrow’s shell?

***

Moment-sparkle, one, two, three

Like the drops that fill a sea

Pitter-patter joy and strife

Time-trickle which fills a life

***

Muster for your journey, Might

Not for its entire run

But enough to tread the flight

Of each moment one by one

***

Moments are like eighth notes to the lyrics in our hold

Where morning, noon and night their muted mysteries unfold

Pray to the Maestro, not for wealth of misers to amaze

But for ears to hear the music and for mouths to sing His praise

***

Splish-splash, moments wash in minute rivers through the air

And no matter what they hold we know Who holds them in His care

***

Worry is a rebel that strips moments of their mirth

Prayer is its rebuttal drenching moments with God’s worth

***

Moments are the glitter

in life’s little diadem

Take a moment to reflect

then go and make the best of them

Happy Thursday!

© Janet Martin

Of 'ofs' and Such

Weight of worry robs us of the strength we need today

Road of life reminds us we must work and hope and pray

Love of God anoints us with His peace if we can trust

Take our hands, Lord Jesus, for to carry on, we must

Count of care increases with the years; its fears as well

Hope of hearts abides though thought treads where it dare not dwell

Strength, not of our own might carries us if we can trust

Take our hands Lord Jesus, for Your way is true and just

Fear of failure threatens, doom and gloom invite despair

Vision of God’s Heaven draws us to throne-rooms of prayer

Word of Life implores us to drink freely and to trust

Take our hands Lord Jesus, lead us through Time’s dust to dust

Mind of Christ be in us; stir our want to sing Your praise

Thorns of strife may test us; gird us with your promises

Dark of night is never greater than Your light, ‘tis true

Take our hands Lord Jesus, as we journey Home to you

© Janet Martin

Psalms 23

 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Pleasure

The poetic form *The Pleiades 

*seven six-syllable lines beginning with the letter of the title-word

Perhaps she will fail you

Please, don't misunderstand

Poetry perplexes

Poets with pen in hand

Pacing half-paragraphs

Probing thought-oceans stirred

Painting pictures with word

 Janet Martin