Heavenly Poem....

God sent me a lovely poem today
Written on parchment of blue
The ink was as gold as the sunshine of May
With only a stray cloud or two
The syllables whispered on fleet-footed breeze
Dancing as if it were June
I’ll take a whole volume of the same poem, please
At one o’ clock each afternoon

~Janet~

Consolation......

I miss it already and it is hardly gone
I miss the music-laden dawn
Melting 'cross a dew-drenched lawn
Unlike this silent shroud
As from every tree and rill
Nature's golden song would spill
Over every field and hill
Before this austere cloud


I miss the murmur of the breeze
The laughter of the willow trees
As the taunting zephyrs tease
Her green and golden tresses
Oh, I miss the fern-lined bower
And the sudden summer shower
I miss each smiling, sunny flower
In all their pretty dresses

They tell me that the summer's gone
But within me it lives on
I can see so far beyond
The brown hills of November
To the music of the sea
Flowing 'cross this frosty lea
In a sun-kissed melody
As softly I remember

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Janet Martin

The Parent

Put your nose to the old grindstone
So it goes till the work’s all done
Mouths to feed and bills to pay
Seems our needs don’t melt away
We get so tired, oh it never ends
Life can be hard with the toil it sends
But suddenly we realize
Responsibility is paradise

When we do it for brown eyes, green eyes or blue
Rewarded with soft hugs and I love you
Come on let’s face it, it’s not so bad
And we’d never replace it; being mother or dad

There is a measure of sorrow we earn
Maybe tomorrow we’ll see a return
As another wrinkle implants itself where
Youth once twinkled, unblemished and fair
Sweeping again, nobody cares
Extra hours put in at the job, in your prayers
Yet suddenly its cost becomes worthwhile
As you find yourself lost in a youngsters smile

And we’d do it again; in half a heartbeat
For the mischievous grin or a kiss so sweet
Back to the grindstone; aren’t you glad?
There’s work to be done ‘cause you’re mother or dad

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Janet Martin

I Should Be Happy......

We raked up the remaining leaves last night…..
For a while we just lay there in autumn’s delight
Inhaling the scent of a summer gone by……….
I should be happy, but I want to cry

The sky is the perfect shade of melancholy
The wind moans a lonesome melody
Wildly thrilling, this blue lullaby
I should be happy, but I want to cry

As we dashed to load up the leaves we had piled
The wind whipped large rain drops about; my son smiled
‘I like this’ he laughed and I said ‘me too’
I should be happy, but I am so blue

I love the scent of November; the wind and the rain
I love to lie here and remember……sweet summer again
I love the exhilaration of her cool, sullen eye
I should be happy…but......I want to cry

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Janet Martin

Twelve Year Old Boy....or Mother's Prayer

Oh God, I stand gazing with affection and joy
At this little man-child, this twelve year old boy
His dreams are so noble, his passion unmarred
His vision untainted and his logic unscarred
His laughter is pure, and so is his mind
His worries are few and his heart is kind
His motives are humble and his slumber so sound
His faith is so simple yet deeply profound
Oh God, place your hand o’er him; for he stands at the door
Where soon he won’t be a child anymore
And he must decide which road he will choose
Which hand to accept and which one to refuse
Oh God, surround him with his mother’s prayers
There are so many pitfalls and so many snares……
Help him to do the best that he can
Keep Your hand on him as he becomes a man

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Janet Martin

I have this thought with every one of our children…
Twelve is a great age!.....old enough to have an opinion……
But mom might still know a teeny tiny bit………

Tonight I stood for a moment and watched him while he slept….
…..and wondered what kind of man he will be……

This Life...............

This life which may for a moment seem bright
In the twinkle of an eye can turn dark as night
There is nothing certain, that eye can see
No man can measure eternity
Yet this life is simply a quick prelude
To the here ever after…..so what should we do
Should we take it seriously?
Well, I would say, ‘yes’
But not so seriously as to be robbed of happiness
God never intended this life to be
A solemn road of drudgery
But He expects simply this; By His example shown
To walk in love, and He will make the rest known

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Janet Martin

The Picture......

There’s a picture of her baby
On the refrigerator door
She hasn’t seen him since the day
That he went off to war
But as she softly gazes
At his youthful, noble face
She knows her prayers will touch him
In that distant, foreign place

She can’t help but over-hear remarks
About freedom and war
She wonders if we understand
Do we care anymore?
And she prays for all the moms and dads
The precious sons and daughters
Who left the comforts that they had
To sail across the waters

She prays that God will care for them
And then she prays for peace
Without more love for fellow-men
There will be no release……..
She pleads with God to bring an end
To this earth’s cruel war
As she gazes at the picture
On the refrigerator door

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Janet Martin

Far Too Soon......

Far too soon the lily sleeps
Beneath a coat of frost
Far too soon the red limb weeps
As its grand robe is lost
Far too soon the shadow lies
Across a tempered lawn
And far too soon the warm breeze dies
Within an autumn dawn

Far too soon the autumn glow
Must yield to winter’s shroud
Far too soon the north winds blow
From darkened, bullying cloud
But just as summertime and fall
Must yield to winter’s chill
Far too soon the robins call
As spring peeks o’er the hill

Far too soon the seasons come
And far too soon they rest
Far too soon my little home
Will be an empty nest
Far too soon the green and gold
Lay withered on the grass
Far too soon we’re getting old
As fleeting seasons pass

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Janet Martin