Love, Live it and Just Give It All You've Got

Tip-toe, tumble

Dance or stumble

Walk, run, fly

Or stand stock-still

Love it, hate it,

Praise, berate it

Tickle it

If you so will

Dream it, do it,

March on through it

Like a soldier

On his drills

Tease it, squeeze it

Pray it, please it

Where its free-fall

Thrills and spills

Jump it, chase it

Or embrace it

Swift, the gift

Of it soon sets

Laugh it, weep it, 

None can keep it 

What this leap

Of life begets

Good or bad,

Happy or sad

Nothing stays

The same for long

Bend it, shake it

You won’t break it

Wake its wonder

Sing its song

Touch it, taste it

But don’t waste it

Drink its wink

Of sun or rain

Kick it, kiss it

But don’t miss it

For this day

Won’t pass again

© Janet Martin

Like ...Laughter

Victoria and Matt's quirky senses of humor keep this home's laughter barrel over-flowing;-0

Don't you love it; the sound of laughter?!

Like silver bells

Or brook through dells

Or madrigals

Without a word

Like stars that spill

Where grief would will

Us to death’s chill

Without smile stirred

A splash of pearls

In shapeless swirls

As it unfurls

Uncurls a grin

Like flowers where

Duty’s grim air

Would merely stare

...its judgement grim

Intangible

Its wonderful

Canticle sparkles

Gilding gray

Where heaven’s rafter

Rings long after

The song of laughter

Has faded away

© Janet Martin

On Thresholds To...

As long as God ordains the sky

With light, my love, then you and I

Must fight the fight; we dare not quit

Until our Master orders it

For soon the night returns to sweep

The roof of earth with starry deep

And this is Time; it paints the sod

With stepping stones that lead to God

The morning like a bloom unfolds

Breaking through dark in pink-rose- golds

What this day holds; only God knows

Some doors fling wide; some curtains close

…and we who live above the grave

Should do our best with what we have

While light of day and grace implore

On thresholds to...

 Forevermore

© Janet Martin

Glory-scape

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Ps.19:1 

 It was an all-day-long proclamation of God's glory today...

The heavens declare His glory

Over earth’s four-season span

Masterpiece succeeds master-piece

Like only the work of God can

From ground-level lane-plain grandstands

Our humble hands applaud

For all one needs is to look up

To witness the glory of God

© Janet Martin

Of He or She Who Hears It...

A slope soft-snowed with daisies and a lazy brook beneath

A summer-stroll while bitter cold strews stars on winter’s heath

A tempest, primed and potent in the steady, ready eyes

Of he or she who dares to dip a quill into thought’s sighs

A truth too keen to utter in the noise of stuttered speech

A hill soft-green where winter’s lean, blue late-day shadows reach

A world not fully fashioned yet within the stalwart gaze

Of he or she who dares to probe thought’s spark into full blaze

The baritone of low-flung cloud above mist-shrouded dell

And, oh my love, the telling of a tear that stilly fell

Where the hand is a Maestro and the silence like a sea

In he or she who wills the quill to spill in poetry

Who knows what touch will render; ah, a pen holds more than ink

As it corrals the splendor of thought-pictures, bronze-gray-pink

Where what is not yet written presses hard against the bones

Of he or she who bears a dam of waiting-to-be poems 

© Janet Martin

...to survive the ages; to be the little, brittle but dearly-loved book,
takes time.
A dream that did not die, birthed into book!
so, to the would-be-book-builder, don't give up!