Of Silences

There is a silence that is harsh
and cold with condemnation
but on a softer night, a hush,
of slow-yearning sensation
threatens to dispel the sigh
of longing or defeat
across a moonless midnight I
can feel a murmur sweep
in urgent whispers on my skin
until it pauses where
the tender ache of you begins
like sparks upon the air

it warms me on the coldest night
and thrusts aside my woe
a calm and sensuous delight
an iridescent glow
melting on my lips and tongue
yet moaning in my ear
ah, now I am forever young
within this atmosphere
intangible, the fervent touch
yet in it I am taken
trembling as its fingers brush
me softly, lest I waken

J~

Empty Page

She wrote twenty letters
And threw them all away
What is there left to utter
When there’s nothing left to say?

Perhaps a single teardrop
Is the only thing to spell
How does one write of heartbreak
When there’s nothing left to tell?

Janet~

The Emptiness of Things

Things lure with artificial promises
Leading to empty delusion
Never satisfying our formless lusts
With shiny and plastic profusion

Things are cold and hard and unfeeling
Its thrill is hollow and brief
An arrangement of emptiness, visually appealing
Unable to offer relief


But the night coming down with misty sighs
Quieting the noise of the day
The planting of dreams as I look in your eyes
The rush of the willow limbs sway

A touch full of warmth and wondering and wanting
A thrill wild and bittersweet
Causes things to fade with pathetic taunting
Like pebbles beneath our feet

J~

Hand of God

Purple, pink and yellow
Orange and white and plum
The flowers are so beautiful
Nodding in the sun
A little glimpse of heaven
To deck this morbid sod
In their fragile beauty
We can see the hand of God

Gold and mauve and scarlet
Coral and deep blue
The sun in flaming splendor
Bids the day adieu
Gleaming through the maples
Lingering o’er the land
A silent, stunning master-piece
Wrought by heaven’s Hand

The pasture curves against the brook
The landscape to the sky
As silence deepens in each nook
And tender breezes sigh
The ache of beauty gathers
As nighttime sweeps the sod
To touch our humble heartstrings
With the tender hand of God

Janet~

A Little Life

Arise, and let us be going
See how the daylight wanes
Beneath its lustrous glowing
All that yet remains
Within the nights tranquility
Is not what was…but what will be

The shadows of life are folding
Its spoils upon the grass
Amidst our toil and scolding
Our little lives will pass
And all that will rest beneath its shade
Are the choices we have made

See the summer pastures
Rippling in the sun
Yet in the gathering hours
Its fading has begun
And soon its emptiness will lie
Beneath a cold and quiet sky

Arise, and let us be going
For etched in the waning light
Are echoes of love and longing
Reaching for the night
As moments vanish in the clutch
Of sight and sound and taste and touch

Janet~

Of Anything to Be

It cannot be touched
But oh, it touches me
Its cogency forms such
Vast possibility

Ravaging delight
Somber agony
The tenure and the might
Of anything to be

Ruthless barterer
To weigh the pros and cons
There is no barrier
Restraining what it spawns

Unguarded it will ruin
The wise man or the fool
For no one is immune
To its seductive rule

Teach me in its trance
Tease me in its gaze
Taunt me in its heedless dance
And tempt me in its blaze

I must control its realm
For on life’s shifting sea
Thought controls the helm
Of anything to be


Janet~

Belief...

I know Whom I believe
I know He holds my hand
But it’s the where and what and why
I do not understand

I know love never fails
I know it is life’s power
And yet I’ve seen it tarnish
Summer’s pleasant hour

For all that I may know
Tis what I cannot see
That tests the very heart of it
…I know Whom I believe

Janet~
For the which cause I also suffer these things: nevertheless I am not ashamed: for I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day. 2 Tim. 1:12

Sonnet of Realizations

Scatter far across the dawn
Your effervescent sigh
Gather up the things you long for
Toss them to the sky

Is there a pinnacle of joy
On which to fix intent
Or are there simply moments where
Its happiness is spent?

The perfect summit of true love
Lies far beyond the cloud
Little shadows it may cast
Are but its feeble shroud

Breathe into your prayer
Each heartache and each tear
For it will reach the portals where
There is no toil or fear

Triumphs here on earth
Are momentary gasps
The only measures of true worth
Lay far beyond man’s grasp

The treasures we compile
That cannot cheer the grave
Are simply decorated bile
How wretched is its slave

The music of love’s song
Is life’s most precious prize
For it is very hard to dance
When its music dies

Scatter across the dawn
Your claim of wants and woes
For soon its dust is gone
To sleep beneath the rose

Janet~