Love's Metamorphosis

Trembling 

We seek you

And 

trembling 

we find you

And 

trembling, 

we give you away

Who knew that love in its beautiful Hunger could fulfill someone this way?

 Blindly we seek you and blindly we find you and blindly we give you away

Who knew that love in its beautiful blindness could restore true sight this way?

 Broken, 

we seek you

And broken, 

we find you

And broken, 

still, still 

you increase

Who knew 

that love

In its 

Beautiful 

breaking

Creates a 

Masterpiece?

© Janet Martin

These days there's a lot of talk about 'finding ourselves, being true to ourselves, following what WE want' but it flies in the face of what Jesus taught...He didn't say find yourself, but deny yourself ...

 Then he said to them all: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.

 Luke 9:23

Dust-dancers

How swift Time’s moment-must

Draws timid feet to dance

The courtship of its fickle dust

A strange, fleeting romance

How smooth morrow ensues

What soon is yesterday

Foolish, the dreamer that pursues

What tick-tock tugs away

How amateur we are

Even experience

Is but a wily harbinger

Of untried ‘whence-to-thence’

Thus, in this little place

Of live-laugh-love-and-learn

We should anoint this dust with grace

For there is no return

…to its brief Before Death

Then God’s eternity

Come darling, steal my very breath

Ere time steals it from me

© Janet Martin

Hope Claps or Of First-Spring

This lapse twixt bud and bloom

In first-spring’s waiting-room

Where we anticipate the gate

Entwined with petal-plume

Inspires, not the mood

Of last-storms as they brood

But births the lilt of flowered kilt

In halls of hope renewed

This stance of ‘someday soon’

Of polished Brigadoon

Of ‘then’ and ‘when’ and ‘once again’

Dripping from yonder spoon

Evokes a pretty prose

Unfolding like a rose

In gardens where we stand and stare

At how lovely it grows

And though the wind is gray

Raw-tongued with winter’s fray

We, undeterred are sure we heard

A robin yesterday

And in this little lapse

Before nature’s climax

As first-spring waits at budded gates

Hearts dream and sing; hope claps

© Janet Martin

Don't you find your thought and conversation peppered with 'when', 'then' and so forth as we plan gardens, picnics and other pleasantries?

A Poem Is As A Poem Does

‘Too lyrical’, said one

Another one replied,

‘To rhyme, meter must be precise’

‘Too short, too long’,

They cried

‘Not impressed’, said he

‘Winner’ a voice declared

‘Punctuation needs some work’

The kind critic

Declared

‘Predictable’, one wrote

‘Superb’, another gushed

‘Ho-hum’, some yawned

While others found

A painting soft,

Word-brushed

Expounded do’s and don’ts

Rouse poet-smiles a bit

They know ‘tis futile to dissuade

The pen by

Rhetoric

© Janet Martin

I appreciate critiquing even when it leaves me scratching my head in confusion;-)

On Waiting...

...waiting for spring among other things.

Nobody likes to wait

Yet oh,

To wait it seems

Sometimes we must

Then, somehow

As we wait

And wait

And wait

It seems

We learn to trust

© Janet Martin

 Wait on the LORD: 

be of good courage, 

and he shall strengthen thine heart: 

wait, I say, 

on the LORD. 

Ps. 27:14