Where Surf Falls Prey...

PAD Challenge day 12: For today’s prompt, write a poem for and/or about something that cannot be seen.

Oh my, those crazy things you do

I tremble at the thought of you

Though you are there and I am here

The proof of you is in my tear

How is it that a storm can wage

Beneath my skin; the heart a stage

Where seasons not of sun-rain-lore

Unfurls the girl of yore once more

…and there she is and there are you

With velvet lips, eyes surprised blue

While fingertips I cannot see

Ravage the very heart of me

Ah, I can be undone with naught

But oceans rushing through my thought

Where surf falls prey to Never-clocks

That closes doors and seals its locks

© Janet Martin

We Cannot See You Yet Oh, There You Are...

PAD Challenge Day 12: For today’s prompt, write a poem for and/or about something that cannot be seen.

We cannot see You, yet oh, there You are

Pinning the night with the bright Morning Star

We cannot feel You, yet oh, deep within

You spill Your peace in a heart, once unclean

We cannot hear you yet You ride upon

Thunder of wonder and dew-darling dawn

We cannot prove You yet Your very proof

Stays the existence of heaven and earth

We cannot see You, though everywhere

In every moment, God, You are there

Though we cannot touch the outline of Your face

Still, You fill Want with Your goodness and grace

Janet Martin~

After We Begin Again...

When we begin again today

To weave upon Time’s lovely way

The outpouring of touch to sight

And when we leave this day tonight

After the laughter, tears and trust

A jot upon Time’s years of dust

After the hoping-groping reach

Of learning even as we teach

After the stumble-fumble-blush

Where we slip in life’s pull and push

And after all that must yet pass

Within this day’s brief hour-glass

Before we lay us down to sleep

And render this day to Past’s keep

May we with satisfaction’s rest

Be glad to know we did our best

© Janet Martin

Little Guy and I had a sort of outdoor farewell party yesterday. We had a high of 16 C before temps dipped overnight. This morning it is -1 Celsius.

Little Leaf

The very shape of you is like a miracle to me

A cup to hold the morning dew or Jack Frost filigree

A startling revelation etched against November gray

Where you relinquish remnants of what buds beget in May

A harp in summer’s hand, a parasol for lilting lark

A wonderland of flowers held in palms of twig and bark

A grandstand filled with whispers while the whole world lies asleep

The wing that wakes the wooded citadel so dark and deep

You come in sundry shape and size; even a child is drawn

Into your autumn-paradise of leaf-embellished lawn

We never get fully enough of little you, alas

Like all of life the air is rife with what must come… to pass

© Janet Martin

Last night was one of those nights when I began to question whether I am really doing what God wants me to do; write poetry. It takes time, head-energy, time, prayer, time and yet something/Someone in me compels me to write, write, write...poetry!

But last night some Thing weighed on me…hard, like only negativity, discouragement and doubt can do and I began to pray 'Lord, is this really what You have called me to do or am I missing what You want ‘cause I’m writing...poetry? Oh, God, I really need to know. Can You send me a sign, a clear sign of what You want me to do? I will not write until I know from You what Your answer is. Amen.'

…then, from the nightstand I picked up a book I purchased last week at a local thrift-store entitled Lines to Live By. I flipped through it wondering where to begin to read this compilation of poetry and prose.

I know, I thought, why not start on the very first page; the Preface…I began reading then began to weep; it was like God was right there in the room talking to me…reassuring me that it's okay to write yes, even about a little leaf...

Click on images below to enlarge to read...

Preface written by Clinton T. Howell

Thought's Timeless Ways

On Saturday I had the pleasure of entertaining four Disney princesses for tea. Before they ate I asked a blessing and they giggled as I choked up on 'God, bless these girls for they truly are princesses, daughters of a King'. (They simply have no idea of that bittersweet twinge on mother-heartstrings:)

PAD Challenge Day 11:
Today is a Tuesday–so “2 for Tuesday” prompt time. Here they are:

1. Write a timely poem.
2. Write a timeless poem.

The way your lashes brush your cheek
robs me of words; I cannot speak
for I know soon moments will draw
you from my arms; this is Time's law
then I will close my eyes; recall
the swift innocence of it all
...and how Thought's timeless ways embrace
the hours no one can replace

Janet~

You Could Tell By the Smile on Her Face

She stands on the street-corner

Her face wind-chapped and red

Surrounded by the birds she was feeding

Her need to be needed, fed

© Janet Martin

I wanted to take her picture but knew it would be an invasion of her privacy.

No 'Free' in Freedom (a re-tweaked re-post)

Somber and steady up a tree-lined street

A stream of solemn soldier-ranks are led,

As sun-beams dance to the drummer’s beat

Filtering through the branches overhead

Beyond the tears and past the arc of trees

The music of a small child’s laughter swells

Stark contrast to the mourning infantry

Bowing beneath the tolling of the bells

Then, as the weeping bag-pipe song exalts

The melody of sweet Amazing Grace

Then, as the banner-covered coffin halts

For it has reached its final resting place

Then, as the last note fades the cannon flies

Its echo fills the air from shore to shore

Yet pales in the wake of a mother’s cries

“There is no ‘free’ in freedom anymore

Put down your banners, lay down your guns

My sweet baby boy has died

Tributes, salutes, many battles won

Won’t bring him back” she cried

“Take away all the roses for nothing will be

Like it ever was before

The price of freedom is too hard for me

There is no ‘free’ in freedom anymore”

Freedom (part two)

Upon Golgotha’s rocky skull-strewn trail

A teaming, screaming throng of hatred surged

Swarming around a form blood-bathed and pale

Upon a place called Calvary they converged

Wild, wild with rage wages hate’s vicious roar

No one remains to defend Love unbound

Stark contrast to the cheers and praise before

Where palm-tree branches waved and decked the ground

Then as the violent blows of steel on steel

Accentuates the horror on the hill

Then, as they drive in hatred nail by nail

Against Love’s cries of ‘Father, not My will’

Then, as they praised and raised Life’s blood-stained cross

In victory, death’s maddened thousands roar

As Mary, his mother weeps for her loss

“There is no ‘free’ in freedom anymore

Take away your hammers, lay down your swords

My dear precious son has died”

As the lightning flashed and the thunder roared

There at His feet she cried

“Take away all your hatred, your jeers and chanting

For you have slain my Lord

Take away all your weapons and cease your ranting

There is no ‘free’ in freedom anymore”

There is no ‘free’ in freedom, Love pays a price

Where hellish horrors run

There is no ‘free’ in freedom, its sacrifice

Save in Christ, is never done

There is no ‘free’ in freedom, red the river

That flows on its behalf

There is no 'free' in freedom; its signature

A blood-stained autograph

Janet Martin

For Those Who Died With the Fallen

A friend sent me this last night. He reminded us to remember those with scars we cannot see...

Some soldiers die on the battlefield, though still they walk away
The living dead, plagued by a hell of perpetual 'replay'
So while we remember the buried, pray we do not forget
Those who died with the fallen, but are among us yet

Janet