Gentle Tether...

'Before the shell of Self was cracked'

Before we bore the helotry

That bound us to the roar of clocks

When we were cared for and carefree

But didn’t give it second thoughts

Because the creek was full of fish

And we were full of dream and wish

Immune to Time’s unbiased truth

Because we wore the green of youth
 

Before the shell of Self was cracked

By the anointing of regret

And all those things we thought we lacked

Were long forgot through battles met

Before we became humbler through

A full face-plant stumble or two

As what we secretly adored

Unveiled a slick, double-edged sword

Before we realized the Prize

Of happiness we hoped to find

Is nothing but wide open eyes

Of thankfulness, simple and kind

Because too soon we lingered where

A tireless Tutor stole our chair

And drew us to the teeming street

To earn a little bread and meat

….and suddenly we sympathize

With middle-aged, plebeian ranks

Where work-worn hands and weary eyes

Meet morn with wiser, meeker thanks

Because a yoke of yester-years

Of spoken words, of smiles and tears

Have gently tethered weathered hearts

To love and its unfinished parts

© Janet Martin

Silver-white Postcard-night

The dark is blanched where full-moon light

Paints hill and dale all silver-white

As silent-silent falls the night

Like a still-life postcard

And dazzling on the listless lane

On boulevard and snow-starred main

Stirs something too hard to explain

Like echoes on a yard

Where once fair, carefree children ran

Strawberry lips and feet of tan

Before they wore woman or man

Encumbered with time's might

And standing where the day has gone

And stripped night naked to the bone

Save for Yore’s echoes falling on

A postcard silver-white

© Janet Martin

Sorrow-stricken

  

We went to the visitation of Wayne and Doreen's son last evening.

There are no words for the pain that comes with witnessing Youth in a coffin... 

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

John 14:18

Ah, who can measure sorrow’s grail

Or who can count the tears that fall

And gather up the utter wail

That has no sound or words at all

And who can hear the prayers that pound

Like surf on rock-bound shores inside

And who can heal the hidden wound

Of hearts broken and gaping wide

And who can undo heartache’s chains

Or calm the sea where mis'ry rolls

Ah, God, our faithful God sustains

And comforts sorrow-stricken souls

© Janet Martin

New Year Madrigal

 Wishing you a blessed New Year!

'"The LORD bless you and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine on you, 
And be gracious to you;…
Num.6:24-25

The notes of living rise and fall

Composing Bygone’s madrigal

Across thought’s scale of high and low

Echoes of loss and triumph blow

They trace the place where constant change

Cannot return to rearrange

The bars where stars and darkness spar

So very near yet oh, so far

From where we are to where we’ll be

When this New Year is history

And all we do not know begets

The snowy ash of Morrow’s Yet

As retrospect and prospect meet

In dissonant chords, bittersweet

To splay upon yon quiet night

A lay that each today will write

Where the best human race can do

Is trust God’s grace to see us through

© Janet Martin

Of Felled Flower-Hours...

Happy last day of 2017!
Thank-you to all of you who drop by this humble poem-porch! 

I appreciate and love you. 

God bless you and yours as we embark on a whole new Unknown

...but for this; God's faithful mercies.

Its summer-songs are sealed

As is each autumn hour   

The winter where Year’s welcome pealed

Yielded to spring’s first flow’r   

A sentimental love

Like mist veiling life’s din

Settles across the annals of

Scenes chronicled within

…where easy come and go

Seems time’s inherent bent

Soft, swift, farewell follows hello

Of day-week-month-Year spent

And where weariness weights

The shoulders of the Old

A ray of newness radiates

Across Time’s dying wold

...where summer songs still wait

As does each autumn hour

And winter is a glorious gate

That leads to spring’s first flow’r

© Janet Martin