Vexed.......

Why must you vex me so?
To forget you I have tried
But in the moonlights ruddy glow
I see you at my side

Why must you tempt me so?
I pretend not to hear
But in the breath of wind that blows
You whisper in my ear

Why must you hurt me so?
Ah, where is the green leaf?
The vibrant blossom falls like snow
With tears of my lone grief

Why must you leave me so?
Why do you come at all?
You pause a moment then you go
To answer autumns call

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Janet Martin

Here......

Here midnight meets the hint of dawn
Here joys and sorrow spill
This moment joins with memory
It’s aching and its thrill
Prayers of ink are pondered here
Upon this endless stage
Our pen, a feather or a spear
To touch this empty page

Here no man can silence thee
And freedom has no bounds
An eight by ten infinity
Where hope or heartache sounds
Here the lonely teardrop sighs
Here a dream is born
Here fantasy or anguish cries
And memories are torn

Here mans thought is traced in form
And silence bears a voice
Here those who read can ride the storm
By words of soundest choice
There is no far away or near
A universal stage
Where we can ever shed a tear
Upon an empty page

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Janet Martin

I Wanted to Tell you......

I wanted to tell you
I hate when you’re so far way
I want to feel like
An old blue sweater
On the arm of your chair
Comfortable and warm
And accustomed
To being there
And you like it that way


I wanted to tell you
I miss you……
Before you say good-bye
And I don’t know why
But August nights
Were meant for two
You…..and I
And sometimes a telephone
Just won’t do

I wanted to tell you
That maybe satisfaction
Lies in the hunger
And the dream
And being younger
Is not all it may seem
I wanted to tell you
I love you…..but I
Heard myself saying….good-bye

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Janet Martin

The Call.....

The front porch
Was too small
On a night
Like last night
We preferred
Wide open fields
And a blanket
Of starlight
We preferred taking
To wanting
And the august night
Was there,
Taunting
Free for the taking
A solitary offering
She held out her hand
We were willing
Words were
Common weeds
The hush, a rose
Satisfying our needs
…..and woes
For a night like
Last night was
Not meant for sleep
We pitied the
Poor shadows
In slumber deep
Is time not
A running stream
Emptying itself
In eternity?
Was last night a dream?
…..or reality
Because the front porch
Was too small
And we heard
The August night call

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Janet Martin

Beautiful Thief

I love you, I hate you
Bittersweet pain
Raging wild fire
Cold driving rain
I love you, I hate you
What more can I say
Autumn, you steal my summer away

I love the burst of dusty blue
Passion on my tongue
It brings back memories of you
And being free and young
I love the flame that sweeps the hill
In orange and red and gold
I love the wind, I hate the chill
And thoughts of growing old

I love the rivers of purple and sage
Flowing in ditch and hollow
I pause on the ridge of middle age
Aware of what will follow
I love the sassy undertones
As branches toss and sway
I hate the thief of scarlet and bronze
Stealing my summer away

I love you, I hate you
Invisible duel
I laugh then I weep
Ah, fall is so cruel
I love you, I hate you
There is no other way
Your bewitching beauty
Steals summer away

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Janet Martin

Hey R~
Your comment got me to thinking.....
yes, I love Autumn too and I hate it!!!

Reluctant Realizations

Like warm silk, she passes by
I sense a sympathetic smile
But she will not meet my eye
For she knows it will be awhile
Before she reaches out her hand
And asks me, shall we dance
For she like I, is not in command
But at the mercy of time and chance

Her long flowing tresses have been shorn
Her vibrant eye is dull
And in her sigh a chill is born
For we can feel the pull
Of hours in waiting; waiting to shed
Sad reluctant tears
On a mournful autumn bed
As she softly disappears

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Janet Martin

The warm somber haze
Of sweet August days
Fills me with reluctant realization
Over the hill
Waits September’s chill
And summer’s evaporation

September in Waiting.....

You shiver in the aspen tree
You hover in the sigh
Of stalwart corn-stalk infantry
Reaching for the sky…..

You tarry in the gilded bush
And etch with burnished gold
Each leaf of green; the orchards blush
Beneath the wand you hold

Did we not witness spring’s glad mirth?
Upon each slope and field
But yesterday; when did the earth
Relinquish her fair shield?

You breathe within the slumbering
Of muted purple sky
Ah, years need no more numbering
Than minnows passing by

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Janet Martin

They Grew Accustomed......

They grew accustomed to her far-off gaze
Her sudden pause or mindless ways
If the sky’s wordless beauty left her in a daze
They reminded her, “Mom, you’re driving!”

They grew accustomed to poetry books on the table
Crumpled wads of paper and scribble
With trains of thoughts ending in dribble
While they reminded her, “Mom, we’re hungry!”

They grew accustomed to her drawn-out sigh
At over-grown creek beds or a half-moon sky
They no longer bother asking “why?”
They remind themselves, “Mom’s a poet”

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Janet Martin

Actually, I do not consider myself a poet....
not after reading truly great poetry,
I simply like to pen thoughts and rhyme words
The art of true poetry eludes me.....
but how pleasurable the quest in my journey