Torn

I am like a young child, torn
Twixt impulse and obeying
Desire throbs upon the morn
With duty ever preying

The stalwart lupine tugs my gaze
Scattering my wishes
I am torn by summer’s ways
And stacks of dirty dishes

Laundry baskets weight my arms
I sense the charted hours
But life is short, the sun is warm
And fields are bright with flowers

Am I to tread the rigid line
Controlled by austere duty
While morning zephyrs tease the vine
Of summer’s rampant beauty?

Too soon the eye of June grows dull
And faded is its flower
Laundry hampers will be full
Long after summer’s hour

I am like a young child, torn
Two voices taunt my reason
Duty wakes with every morn
But summer for a season

Janet~

Lying Beneath an Ocean

The white-capped sea of middle-June
Evolves to azure blue
Sunlight dims the pallid moon
And warms the fields of dew

Not long ago the pining breeze
Whipped past with ruthless chill
But now it feathers grass and trees
And climbs the wooded hill

Heaven’s expanse I cannot trace
But with a thought of you
Drifting into timeless space
And endless vaults of blue

The limb so long stripped bare and lean
Softens its woody grasp
Unfolding gowns of yellow-green
In pools of shaded grass

Far is the sky of middle-June
A vast and white-capped ocean
Where I could drift an afternoon
Beneath its grand illusion

Janet~

In Spite of Life

And there you scrawled your name
Boldly, without shame
Across a page reserved
For love; and I unnerved
Had nothing to reply
Or could it be that I
Chose thus, in spite of life
Disappointments wretched knife…


J~

There's Something about You

There’s something about you…
Soft warmth draping over my shoulder
When the sky deepens past its ruddy hue
And shadows grow moody and colder

There’s something about you…
As raindrops thrum their hollow tune
Upon the walls where ivy grew
One rare, fine night in June

There’s something about you…
That repetition can’t destroy
Now I know that it is true
Anticipation is half the joy

There’s something about you
Where tender joy and sadness meet
There is something raw and blue
That sparks a poem; bittersweet

There's something about you...
That reminds me constantly
As sun-flecked tree-tops turn to blue
You are far too far from me


J~

Almost Enough

Has anyone ever said, ‘it is enough’?
Enough money, enough ‘stuff’
Enough prosperity, enough success
Enough wealth and happiness

Has anyone ever said their happiness
Was found by enough money and success
By wealth and all that it could buy
Spread out beneath an endless sky?

Nay, this world can never give enough
For money cannot buy happiness or love



J~

Poetry

Poetry is not a word
Or a line or a rhyme
It is a thought, a passion stirred
With whisper of finger-tips
And lips,
Saying nothing in particular
And everything
At the same time
Poetry is murmured by breezes
And crashing of the sea
Poetry is a caged thought set free
In nothing more than the hint of a smile
Or the glimmer of regret
Shining in your eye
Over reaching an age of knowing
Too much, and yet
Nothing at all
Poetry weeps in the rain as it falls
And seeps through the darkness
Like a somber cloak
Yet my heart breaks loose
By a thought you spoke
With nothing more
Than the wisp of a sigh
In your glance
As you passed by…

J~

Life's Dance

Even life’s best moments
Will eventually be
For all of our holding
But a memory

Moments of sorrow
Must have their day
But if there’s a tomorrow
It too passes away

I hold you to me
Knowing full well
Tis but a prelude
To farewell



J~

Familiarity

Tis not an unfamiliar thing
The dusk-blue twilight knitting
The horizon to the sky
In art of heav’n’s befitting

Tis not an unfamiliar thing
The half-breath that I take
As I sense you slipping
From me as I wake

Tis not an unfamiliar thing
As sunlight paints the day
To hear you softly whispering
Before you slip away

J~