She Misses Him

It is hard for her to let the world

Glimpse her full heart

Where all the words

He never wrote

Become a

Mantle

Of

Thought-art

And all the thoughts

He couldn’t say… the thing

 that made her lose her way…

She misses him but cannot find

The road that takes her back in Time

© Janet Martin

He Misses Her

The blood of ink

Wept from his soul

Cannot abolish

Or console

The hollow

Filled

With echoes

Where

Once he loved

Her.

But now the air

Is like a stair

That charts the miles

Of broken hearts

And shattered

Smiles...

© Janet Martin

Grab Life By Its Fingers and Twirl...

Grab life by its fingers and twirl,

Grab life by its arms; take a chance

Grab love and its gilt tilt-a-whirl, my friend

Who knows when we’ll dance our last dance?

Un-tether the ties that bind

Unfetter the fears that drain

Together we’ll weather the weather, my friend

Whether of gold sun or cold rain

Emerald of spring, amethyst

Of summer-swept petal or mist

Sapphire sigh or ruby-beamed sky

Diamond of dew on dawn’s wrist

Life’s treasure in full measure spills

Rampant above and beneath

Drink from the chalice of moments, my friend

Who knows when we’ll draw our last breath?

Grab life by its fingers and twirl

Oh, suffer its sorrow-romance

Grab love by its shoulders and never let go

Who knows when we’ll dance its last dance?

© Janet Martin

Do We Think to Pray?

Before we touch our feet down

To face another day

Oh, do we pause a humble bit

And do we think to pray?

Before we race head-long into

Life's unknown-riddled way

Do we look up with head bowed low

And do we think to pray?

Before the tide and tempest of

Today unfurls its fray

Do we grasp Mercy's hands of love

And do we think to pray?

 

Janet~

Please pray for Jim, mentioned here. He is journeying the last miles of his way to God's arms.

Do we merely think...or do we think, to pray...?

Of A Mother's Heart

A mother’s heart is filled with words

That ink can never form

An ocean tossed, a cradle, soft

A pillar in love’s storm

A mother’s heart is full of art

That brush could never read

A corridor of sacred scars

Where rawest splendors bleed

A mother’s heart is squeezed and torn

Where hands can never reach

It bows low-small yet stands full-tall

Where love must learn and teach

A mother’s heart is flesh and blood

And yet a longing stair

Up to the One who hears the groan

Where love is stripped and bare

A mother’s heart is soft as silk

Yet firm, unshakeable

Methinks a mother’s heart must be

A sort of miracle

© Janet Martin

Of Life's Simple Things

 A collage of simple-thing blessings in my right-here-right-now: autumn snagged on the carpet, foot-prints in the snow, birdies at the feeder, dripping tap means running water,ice-ensconced buds,winter-laced trees,lotsa laundry means busy blessing of family...
How many ‘simple-thing-blessings’ surprise you right where you are!?

Ah, patriarch of beauty

What joy your bearing brings

You kiss dullness of duty's face

With this; life’s simple things

Oh, stranger to vain-glory

You tip the jars of grace

And trim the barren winter tree

With threads of gilded lace

The gavel of your judgement

Is never harsh or hard

You drench new dawn with light of day

And pin the dusk with stars

Your moments none can gather

Or ever quite appease

And yet they fill life’s larder, love

With tender memories

The memories we garner

Are woven with the strings

Falling from mercy’s fingertips

In gentle, simple things

…of twinkle spilled in laughter

Of crinkled, autumn tress

Of snowflake sprinkled from a sky

Foreign to ugliness

…of silver-studded sorrows

Of beggar-blooded joys

Of hope in each tomorrow, love

Where God His will employs

Oh, patriarch of beauty

On time’s four-season wings

You cheer our humble here-and-now

With this; life’s simple things

© Janet Martin