Friday, June 6, 2014

Her Laughter Must Be June





Her laughter must be June
Where long she stood, gray-faced and grim
A sepulcher on every limb
Her down-cast eye lifts, filled with vim
And myriad of nature-tune  
I say, earth’s laughter must be June

She twirls, her summer-sheen
Becoming, where too long her head
Was bowed and veiled in somber thread
Her curves, stark, unappealing, dead
But now, where mourning once had been
Her laughter spills in gold and green

And we, wearied by many moons
Are gladly wooed by the romance
Of roses where our bare feet dance
In garden ball-rooms; hope’s fragrance
Like heaven-rendered love-song croons  
I say, earth’s laughter must be June

 She kisses with sun-sparkle swoon
The window where we waited, wild
With eagerness of dreaming child
While winter bullied and reviled
Each hollow, hillock, dell and dune
Before earth’s lush laughter of June

© Janet Martin


Sweet Hope




 Hope is a hallowed highway into the Great Unknown...
But this we know, it leads to streets of gold and Heaven's throne.


We press upon a silent stage
The poetry of soul and slope
 And from the nothingness of page
We sense a sweet, unfolding hope

…as green leaf ushered from mute bark
Earth’s bud and blossom luxury  
Inspires us, while it is dark
To hope for what we cannot see

…those things we cannot change or trade
Though for release oft we implore
Upon our heart of hearts is laid
The hope of better things in store

…and as we press on living’s page
The poetry of soul and slope
Its ink-drops fall from pinion-cage
In sweet and everlasting hope

© Janet Martin

Thursday, June 5, 2014

The Tale Of a Man Named Lou (tweaked re-post)


Once, in a land of Lubadoo
There lived a man whose name was Lou
Sir Lou, in everybody’s eyes
Was perceived to be very wise
And often times with nodding head
They all agreed to what Lou said.

Sir Lou lived in a castle tall
Where roses climbed the old stone wall
In lovely red, year after year
The bloom of roses would appear
And many paused to gaze in awe
At the red roses that they saw

One day, restless and discontent,
Sir Lou stopped to inhale their scent
He shouted, “Hear what I’ll tell you
These red roses are really blue!”
Folks shook there heads at what Lou said
For how can blue one day be red?

But Lou walked up and down the street
And every day he would repeat
That what was red is really blue
And slowly folks agreed with Lou
For wasn’t Lou still, after all
That wise man in the castle tall?

Then came that sad and solemn day
Sir Lou was old and passed away
The mourners stood out on the street
Where rose-petals fell at their feet
They told their children ‘here lived Lou
Who taught us red is really blue’

Now no one questions anymore
What they had all believed before
As generation rise and fall
Blue roses climb the castle wall
It seems they never, ever knew
These roses were not always blue

Time’s centuries have come about
And no one stops to think or doubt
For who can say red is not blue?
Nobody here has heard of Lou
Or how one day he simply said
'These roses are not really red'

…and visitors are mystified
To hear folk speak with love and pride
At these blue roses; how they’ve grown
Year after year against the stone
 Ah, long forgotten is Sir Lou
 Who told someone that red was blue

The moral of this little tale
Is simply this; Truth does not fail
Though generations come and go
The truth remains unchanged and so
Before we teach that red is blue
We should make sure that it is true

Be careful then that none deceive
Lest generations thus believe
A vile untruth told to be true
For those red roses are not blue
Yet everyone within their youth
Were taught what others thought was truth

© Janet Martin

The girls were debating one day about how and why people believe what they do regarding the Bible. Everyone reads the same Book, but they understand it differently. I wrote this a year ago and something today made me think of this topic of Truth...that Unshakable, Unalterable Eternal Truth.

This...


 Life is so much more than just a leap beneath Time's sky...what it is all about begins the moment that we die!

This season sweep of highs and lows
Of hues in blues and bronze and rose
Of happiness and weary woes
Where faith and fear are juxtaposed

…this dot beneath a tent of sky
This plot of seed and harvest sigh
This cot of greeting and good-bye
And knowing Something more is nigh

…this span of reaching for God’s grace
This teaching and beseeching place
Where we cannot one step retrace
Or any spoken thought erase

…this is a marvel spun of air
A slender thread twixt here and There
While morning gilds Time’s thoroughfare
And God cradles us in His care

…this stairway to the great Unknown
This grasping gasp of grief and groan  
Leads past a marker made of stone
To He who sits on Heaven’s throne

© Janet Martin

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Farmer and Gardener's Prayer



We place the seed within Thy soil
Our trust into Thy hand
We seek Thy strength for daily toil
Thy mercy for the land

Janet~

Say It!





Say it!
For who knows?
It may be just the nudge to keep
A comrade on her toes
So,
Say it
Perhaps this word-hug
Will turn heartache into hope
No, no, don’t keep within yourself
What helps another cope
So
Say it!
That kind, caring thought
Don’t let it die unheard
For much of who we are depends
On someone’s kind, kind word

© Janet Martin

...too often I say what I shouldn't and don't say what I should!

Little Life-Lyric





Rooster scratches in the dirt
Politicians spar
Love endures both joy and hurt
Son gets his first car
…Daddy walks down memory-lane
Where youth escaped somewhere
Between toil’s pleasure- stippled pain
And twilight’s rocking-chair

Cat sprawls in the morning glare
School-bus crawls away
And wedding-gowns are hanging where
A baby used to play
Apple trees shed petal-song
And mother sheds a tear
For what yet is and what is gone
And what must disappear

Creek flows chartreuse over moss
Road-rage results in death
Dentist tells patients to floss
Casket wears baby’s breath
War, dream, first dance and dirge converge
The old is new again
Summer unfolds spring’s budded splurge
The farmer prays for rain

Fashion-fame-fortune’s futile flaunt
Struggles to re- impress
Flowers bloom, wild in woodland haunt
Mankind seeks happiness
In churches, markets, lovers, home
Want stains earth's soil, blood-red
Beneath the city hobos roam
In search of daily bread

Rooster scratches in the dirt
Politicians spar
Love endures both joy and hurt
Time, its peace and war
Holding on and letting go
Ceaseless metronome
Centuries rise to melt like snow
God is on His throne



© Janet Martin