It Is Done...........

Across time’s vast and rolling surge
I hear a song; a mournful dirge
Like a lonesome tolling knell
Farewell, ye by-gone year, farewell
Hear its low and solemn tone
It is done, it is done

Clasp its sonnet to your breast
As its trembling cadence rests
Deep within the darkened urn
Where good and ill cannot return
Its only trace the seed it’s sown
It is done, it is done

I hear a tremor on the breeze
It lingers in the barren trees
Slipping through my fingers, gone
The notes that tune tomorrow’s song
Hear the echo, distant moan
It is done, it is done

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Janet Martin

Not That Far.....

Perhaps the sky is weeping and gray
And there’s a world of it twixt you and I
Love is unhindered; you are not far away
Love leaps across each lonely mile
There is no fixed perimeter
Where love must be sadly constrained
It takes its flight in thought and prayer
It cannot be caught or restrained

Darling, wherever you are today
Miles cannot separate
They are simply geography
On road maps that we create
But it has nothing to do with love
No matter what road maps say
I feel you near me as I move
No, you are not too far away

Life has many twists and turns
We cannot see past today
Those things for which the spirit yearns
Often seem far away
But when it comes to love, my dear
Its essence wings 'cross the gray
And in its flight it draws you near
No, you are not too far away

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Janet Martin

New Jacket

I see you are sporting a new jacket tonight
You're feeling quite fine in your new coat of white
Well, I would love to compliment you
But my dear, it wouldn't be true
You see......I prefer you in green, even blue
In fact, almost ANY other color would do
How about brown, gold, red, orange or black?
Could I persuade you to send your white coat back?

Janet~

I Love Green.....

The fields lie fast asleep tonight
Beneath a blanket cold and white
Glistening beauty; tranquil scene
But my dilemma…I love green

I’m trying hard to view this night
With an open-minded sight
Sparkling kingdom, still, serene
I can’t help it….I love green

Oh, it’s a silent night tonight
A flawless planet robed in white
But I recall a kinder scene
Where the night was warm and green

The fields and trees are clad in white
Yes, it is a pretty sight
only a hundred and twelve days until spring!
…and all the lovely shades of green

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Janet Martin

Chit-chat.....

Sometimes it seems I keep talking
To avoid the inevitable
I’ll talk about the weather
Things, places and people
I won’t look right at you
Or meet your solemn eye
Because I’m not quite ready yet
To hear you say good-bye

Janet~

Word Pictures......

There are few things
Which I enjoy better
Than viewing a painting
With the art of a letter
For letters arranged
Turn into a word
And the scenes they create
Leave the senses stirred
There’s nothing comparable
To move me, I find
Like a picture that’s painted
Upon a mind

Janet~

November Skies....

Beneath your drooping leaden eyes
The earth in gray surrender lies
Poised in cold expectancy
Knowing soon what is to be
The trickle of a frosty tear
Garnishes a fading year

The sapphire gaze of summer-past
Is dark and gray in eyes down-cast
The summer heart in empathy
Returns your sad melancholy
But oh, we know we will not cry
There’s beauty in this lullaby

A reckless wantonness ignites
Within your charcoal, smoldering sights
For what is to be must be….
You fling aside your misery
And shower on the earth below
Your tears in diamonds made of snow

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Janet Martin

We are ‘poised’ on the edge of a storm…….
The sky looks impatient……

Clenched Dream....

The landscape wears a close-shorn shroud
For now the fields of summer’s green
Lay barren ‘neath an iron cloud
Where once the toil of man was seen
And cornfield, stripped of cob and husk
Lies tight-lipped in the moody dusk
Where now the gale unhindered sweeps
From portals pale to silent deeps

Fair, lush, the meadows of July
Where lark and daisy reigned supreme
But now beneath a leaden sky
We view its terrace like a dream
The echo of a sun-kissed tune
Drifts soft and low across the dune
Wild, the wind that chills the turf
The waves of June, a muted surf

No more the song of trembling leaf
To grace the hour of twilight’s brim
The sigh becomes a moan of grief
As low-light keys the shadow dim
Beneath the half-moon, cobalt sky
November croons her lullaby
We hear it; as we stoke the fire
A song of clenched dream and desire

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Janet Martin