Out-pouring of Perfection

He could have sent a prophet
A servant, meek and low
To bear the curse of evil
And hatreds cruel blow
He could have sent a king of earth
A pauper or a priest
He had the power to place His worth
Within a mindless beast
He could have sent His angels
Legions to fill the sky
To spare Himself the anguish
Of watching His Son die
He could have, with one uttered word
Declared all man forgiven
He could have, from His visage stirred
The rocks to shout salvation
But He chose to put on flesh
The Sacred Son of Heaven
Became a servant unto men
In form, lowly and human
Upon a cross He gave Himself
A King and Royal Priest
And not one drop of love withheld
As death’s curse was released
He could have sent an army
To face the fiends of hell
But He loved us so completely
That He sent Himself

Janet

~The more we love others, the more of ourselves we give.

Inspired by Isa. 53 and Phil. 4

The Flip-side of ‘Dark and Dangerous’…

Warm lips,
Merely flesh and blood
Yet, as they graze our cheeks,
Our ears, our neck
Arousing thought
Heaven-inspired
And as they whisper forgiveness
Encouragement and hope
Pleading for the same in return,
As they, with nothing but half-words
Cradle our hearts in the palm
Of contentment
As they murmur,
A thousand miles away
While reading these lines
As they pulse with the longing to be kissed
And as they turn to smile bravely
In spite of life
We know, it is not lips
Merely flesh and blood lips
But love
The tender out-pouring of self
That makes life beautiful
And I love you

Janet Martin

To the Night...

Night, close your dark-fringed lashes o’er the day
And tug the dazzling froth of starlight near
Ignore the hours which now in ambush lay
To leap upon the closing of a year
Oh, hold me close in somnolent embrace
Don’t ask about the teardrops on my face

Night, some would choose to count your phantom sheep
I do not care for pastimes such as this
I crave your melancholy, still and deep
The ravaging fulfillment of your kiss
Around my shoulder and my soul recline
And do not ask about these tears of mine

Night, now I lay my head against your thigh
Together we inhale the solitude
One with the symmetry of earth and sky
As nature’s very heartbeat is subdued
I don’t ask why the silence seems to cry
And you don’t brush the teardrop from my eye

Janet Martin

November's Pantomime

Now on earth’s weathered cheek her teardrops lie
A golden trace of autumn in her eye
And now the wind, a king stripped of its throne
Drifts through this cold and barren world alone
Now folds the lily-cup her waxen lips
Denying vagrant bees, their final sips
While multi-layered skies in purple-blue
Rivet the eye to heaven’s avenue

Now restless feet slow-dance to melodies
Of somber beat and sun-drenched memories
And now the valiant seed of summer sleeps
Where Time in numbered breaths its vigil keeps
The meadow-stream carries with purposed stride
A metaphor of moments in its tide
While humble hearts, like spectators of Time
Watch the unfolding of life’s pantomime

And now the boy of spring becomes a man
As ruddiness imbues the cheek of tan
Now earth receives its draught of umber-gold
Preparing for the thrust of winter’s cold
As nature pens its solemn madrigal
And slips its fingers through each heart and soul
Mankind acknowledges his depth of need
…for now the summer flower has run to seed

Janet Martin

In a matter of days the trees
went from gold-leaf canopy
to bare and naked.

the sky followed suite...
from pure azure to dull gray

Dark and Dangerous

He loved her
Enough to give her
A piece of himself
Crumbs falling from the table
He reserved
For himself

She loved him
But the tasteless crumbs
Are burning a hole
In the pit of her heart
And the core
Of her soul

Love nourishes;
There is no sustenance
In paltry crumbs
But,it seems longing numbs
Her ability
To know the difference


Janet Martin

The Call of Life

Solitary triumph
Monumental grief
Oceans of vain doubting
Swallowed in Belief
Deep unspoken sorrow
Disquieting fears
Hope for each tomorrow
As today disappears
Tear within the eye now
Aching in the chest
Letting our dreams die now
Because God knows best
Brave blue-collar heroes
Unnamed and unsung
Longing, as it sears through
Thirsting on our tongue
Rising and the falling
Ebbing and the flow
We answer the calling
Of living’s joy and woe
Life's November weeping
Into the thin dark
Love's memories sleeping
In yesterday’s spark
Whispers of desire
Feathering the sod
Lifting our hope higher
And homeward to God

Janet~

I waved, to my 'blue-collar hero'
leaving for another week of 'invisible heroism',
I waved to my 19 yr. old daughter, leaving in 'scrubs'
for a new phase of training...
I waved to my 3 scholars waiting for the bus...
...and then turn toward the washing machine as the house quiets.
Each of us answering the call of life.

Breath-moments

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/


Motionless,
the strength of these
etched against the coral sky
like phantom bees
steals my breath,
Dusk kindly cleaning
the unsightly remnants
from a day rapidly fading
before my eyes
to the safety of the past.
Breath-moments, a brief point of ‘present’,
they balance, swivel and slip
from the tip of my finger
invisible flickers,
yet eloquent enough
to form a life

Janet Martin

poem-a-day challenge; kindness

They All go Home

They all go home,
leaning on the arms
of their chosen loves
laughter fading into
the gathering dusk

They all go home,
silence dense and
enlarged, like a woodland
in the absence
of bird and leaf

They all go home
but she who wanders
returning the stares of
empty chairs
looking for love

Janet Martin