Friday, September 12, 2014

'Like Petals of a Summer'...I Heard the Fallen Leaves Whisper





We gather on a green mezzanine
And for lack of good news
We reminisce
A collection of wayfarers
En route
To what no longer is

This thoroughfare is a smattering
Of this and that
And this
Yet we are transfixed
In the chattering
Not of what was, but is

Life’s relentless rendering
Of bud to bloom
Soon lies
In ever-expanding
Tombs; its rooms
Beneath a sweep of skies

Deeds, like seeds are capsules
Of much more
Than they might seem
Life's little season-vestibule
Is more
Than 'but a dream'

We are all newcomers
To this reunion
On the grass
Like petals of a summer
Where all things come 
...to pass


© Janet Martin


Of Everyday Moments



 Time of itself is a momentous affair...

In every-day moments Life becomes what it is
Its patriarch, the clock
Is a bully of sorts; no hit-or-miss
Tick-tock, tick-tock…

In everyday moments we shape who we are
Mute Want-whispers walk
Across skin stretched then shriveled in
Tick-tock, tock-tock

Time of itself is a momentous affair
While we boast, barter and balk
Every-day moments silver the air
Tick-tock, tick-tock…

Beneath the noise of come-and-go
Silence employs its stock
…everyday moments overflow
Tick-tock, tick-tock…

...the child outgrows both clothes and nests
Too soon; it comes as a shock
How a common Maestro engraves its tune
Tick-tock, tick-tock

…and hearts rearrange their hope-chests because
In a clock’s half-breath talk
Everyday moments of What Is fill What Was
Tick-tock, tick-tock

© Janet Martin

Lord, teach us how to make the most
Of every-day moments

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Of Wish and Imagination




 Do you ever find that Time is a celebration of wish and imagination? 
Summer is far too small a world to ever be quite appeased;
it's a little like putting down a book in its best part 
and never returning to finish it...
It's like being wonderfully, perfectly...teased


Anticipation is mostly wishes
And imagination
Sometimes we are victims of
Fact and infatuation

The buttercups we never twirled
Between our idle fingers
Are gone; like summer’s sun-sweet world
Save for the frond that lingers

Truth has ways of telling it
That one can hardly handle
And everything we touch a bit
Like flickers of a candle

Somehow, while we love one thing more
A wise wind rearranges
The Very Thing we quite adored
Before we wore its changes

And suddenly on one dark night
When clock-rivers run faster
We realize this spartan plight
Is quite a fight to master

And even with the centuries
That tiny tick-tocks suture
No one has found the answer-key
To open up the future

I guess ‘tis best we do not know
The morrow’s explanation
Anticipation fills us with
Wish and imagination

© Janet Martin

Wonderful to Me...





Wonderful to me
The dawn that lights the lea
Ignites what soon will be
Before we seek our rest
Wonderful to me
Love persists faithfully
Where our humility
Is pitiful at best



Wonderful, oh God
The bounty of earth’s sod
Where oft we trip and trod
Across its treasure trove
Without a word of praise
Until life’s testing ways
Returns us to that place
To wonder at your love



Wonderful to me
For oh, how can it be
That immortality
Awaits beyond this gasp
For in the flesh, a soul
In brokenness, the Whole
In life’s journey; a Goal
That wonder cannot grasp



Wonderful, I weep
This sin and sorrow sweep
Is not too dark or deep
To keep You from our call
You comfort us, oh God
I cannot quell with thought
The wonder of it all

© Janet Martin

“I like the word ‘wonderful’ ”, said Victoria. “It describes itself; full of wonder”

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  Ps.139:14



one more verse because today we remember...vividly!! 9/11

Wonderful to me
The darkness that must be
Is but part of a sea
Before the Great Divide
When Love will conquer hate
And open wide the Gate
To God. Amen. We wait
Where Hope and Faith abide






For Struggling Authors...





The morning is to our feet
Like a fresh un-scribbled sheet
What untold possibility
Is poised above its waking lea

…where we, so spill and error prone
Are like a quill; we write upon
This page; how swift our touch disturbs
That vault of adjectives and verbs

…as moments drip their chartered air
Like ink drops from a pen somewhere
The hour grins, a verse begins
Time’s parchment suffers sundry sins

…from struggling authors; blood-sweat-tears
Composes script of yester-years
For all that we cannot erase
Remains forever etched in place

…and yet, a patient Teacher knows
The anguish of life’s highs and lows
Thus granting us in every dawn
…a brand new page to write thereon

© Janet Martin

In the middle of Time's storms of bad news and fear if we listen we can hear Him testify in each new day,
"Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." Matt. 14:27