Evaluation

...the rest of a poem that began last week:)

Perhaps what we most need

Our dollars cannot buy

A posy from God’s garden

And a stroll beneath His sky

A frolic with the breeze

A front-row seat of grass

To listen to leaf-symphonies

Teasing time’s moment-glass

Perhaps we do not need

The More we dream about

Perhaps less is the way to go

Less stress, less stuff to tout

Perhaps what we most need

When all is said and done

Are pieces of an afternoon

Scattered beneath the sun

© Janet Martin

For Those Who Have Been There...

Love disappoints sometimes,

But through its hurt we find

Its lessons teach us how to be

Compassionate and kind

For as the heart surrenders

What hand cannot constrain

We sympathize with others

Who bear this kindred pain

We wear a gentler bearing

We learn a deeper care

And truer understanding

For those who have been there

© Janet Martin

It's comforting to chat over coffee or tea with other mothers who are or have been 'There':)

To See The Sun Climb Trees...

Doesn't it give you a rush to see the sun climb trees,

Knowing beneath its flush wait fresh-made memories?!

The sun grins like a boy

It climbs porch-steps and trees

Its autograph laughs pure like joy

Carved sweet in memories

How bold and gold it beams

It dwarfs day dreams, but still

Day dreams in spite of time-tried schemes

Waiting on westward hill

Oh, we try to keep up

To offer more than stares

Into the summer of its cup

That spills in daily cares

So we scale sight and sound

Until we feel quite small

And life so large upon the ground

Is not so large at all

...where the grace of The Chase

Invites us to pursue

More, as the sun saunters through space

On its set avenue

For it excites anew

To see the sun jump gates

Then bluffs and trees to climb into

The blue of what awaits

© Janet Martin

 This is the day the Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.

Ps.118:24

 

Off to make memories with friends at a last-day-of-summer/birthday tea:)

Of Those We Have And Hold

Sometime the places that you left jar yester-worlds within

The grief of missing you, my love, tears holes beneath my skin

Those days gone by will not return; past is a soldered fold

But,

Absence of one keens Awareness of those we have and hold

Sometimes weakness begs me to cling to what does not exist

The strength required to let go leaves me feeling half-kissed

Where hours fall like flowers spinning moments into years

And

One absent keens awareness of how swift time disappears

Fingers can shake with wanting and a heart can ache for years

The hardest part of loving is its softest part; our tears

Still, we love willingly and martyr-like, suffer its pain

For

Absence of one keens awareness of those that yet remain

© Janet Martin

Not Gone...In Loving Memory of George

He’s not really gone

No, he (George) lives on

He laughs in his daughter

He strides in his son

He sparkles in blue eyes

And a little-boy grin

We see his nose

Or the set of a chin

Or funny-shaped toes

In his grand-children

He’s a soft, slow chuckle

He is hands that care

And in hearts that remember

He's a smile

A tear

And a prayer

© Janet Martin

We remembered George (grandpa of the little guys I babysit) today at his funeral.

This poem can be tweaked when used, to make it more personal...