Desperate Pleasure...

I’ve heard the suggestion voiced, because of the prolific nature of this blog that ‘poetry must pour from your pores’…

It feels more like a breaking through bone of thought in groan and moan…

‘Tis a serious and desperately pleasant-yet-sometimes-painful business to bear the weight of words into birth then dare to share them.
Those who hear the Call cannot ignore it with ease...so it has been for centuries.

 

Full poem here

full poem here

What awesome bearing, this

To commit to a page

The birth of thought for one to read

In some far-yonder age

What undertaking, this

To pen for heart and soul

Something to keen the spirit to

The wearing of a soul

What trembling Want ensues

By it we cast off fear

Lest by neglect we fail to write

What someone needs to hear

What awesome Being, this

To press with curves of ink

A tender scalpel deep enough

To make its reader think

© Janet Martin

From Beckoning to Reckoning

 The sky went from fire-ball red to ash gray in mere minutes...

there is freezing rain in the forecast so drive safe, everyone.

My, my, how soon the dawn is drawn

Beyond its beacon lit

How soon its beckoning becomes

The reckoning of it

My, my how swift this gift of dust

Propels morning to noon

Where soon the purple mist of dusk

Dissolves time’s latest boon

My, my, how soon a day is done

How smooth moments adhere

One to the next, a seamless spawn

Where lifetimes disappear

My, my, how soon death will unveil

What now we but suppose

My, my, time pours an awesome grail

Toward its curtain-close

© Janet Martin

Mostly I Write To Touch You

Mostly I write to touch you

Brush your lips with a smile

Stroll, like friends, the lanes of life

And linger there awhile

Poems are soul-mates, comrades

Stringing dull days with stars

Helping us to appreciate

How loved and blessed we are

Mostly I write to hold you

In a slow dance where sound

Of kindred whispers draws us and

We meet on common ground

Mostly I write to wonder

About you; how the will

Of words, though we have never met

Deems us acquainted still

So, mostly I write to touch you

Lest in time’s blur and fuss

Both you and I would overlook

The poetry of us

© Janet Martin

Going My Way?

 

This card was sent to my grandmother (who passed away 34 yrs. ago)  when she was young...

For centuries fathers and mothers

Have waved good-bye to sons and daughters

And wound heartstrings around the world

For centuries work, worry and wonder

Have worn us clean through

Only to bid us come-hither and do it all again

For centuries life’s nickel-and-diming

Appointments grin in our climbing toward

Penniless paupers in the grave

For centuries time has tricked us

Into thinking what we knew was new

Until we learned; nothing is new after all

For centuries the tree limb buds

Blooms, bears and breaks while we make

Wind-song memories and apple-cakes

For centuries we build up and tear down

While calendar pages scatter like

Tatters from a vintage gown

© Janet Martin

Already...a week of 2016 in the books!

We All Have Time To Pray

  

Because it seems I need to hear it over and over

I've listened to this message again and again!

Who can tell the future?

Who can know its way?

Who can claim hope, joy and peace

Yet never pause to pray?

We, God's beloved children

Cannot find the way

Or trust His kind guidance

If we do not pray

Prayer is like a life-line

God's heart holds the rope

And as we cry out to Him

He replies with Hope

 Janet~

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.

Mark 1:35

It's not about having time, 

It's about making time

and taking Time