A Mystery (re-post)

Who can explain love?
This thing we give and give
Yet can never give too much of
Or get enough…..

It is not a mere emotion
For emotions rise and fall
While love serves with devotion
Standing faithful through it all

Who can explain this four-letter word?
Leaving us most intensely stirred
Evoking within us life’s greatest pleasure
And deepest pain
Yet, it seems we love without measure
And it is impossible to love in vain
Though we may love and lose….
We love again

There is none so rich that he does not need it
And none so poor that he cannot have it
Love’s stores are never depleted
Yet useless if we try to save it

In love we hold, kiss and embrace
In love we let go as tears cover our face
In love we leap, in love we fly
In love we live, in love we die

Who can explain love?
This many-splendored desire
Mild as a cooing dove
Wild as a raging fire
Solid as a rock in the ocean
Yet soft as the mist on the sea
Is there any who can explain it?
This splendid mystery

Janet~

Yesterday's poem-a-day prompt was love...
I like love:) this is today's love to you from me~

They Call Him Joe...

They call him Joe
Joe the janitor, actually
That guy behind the broom or mop
The hand picking up
Stray wrappers and paper cups
That’s Joe.
His shoulder’s once broad and alert
Are stooped
Like his heart,
His hair; silver-gray
Life’s finer art,
He walks a little slower now
Than he did yesterday
And the children dash on by
Joe, he watches and smiles a little
With a tear in his eye
Joe, pushing a mop
That will not clean up the pieces
Of a memory
Or a broken heart
Because when Henrietta lied,
And left with his babies
The Joe of yester-years
Died.

Janet Martin

Once Upon a Perfect Day

Once upon a perfect day

No one will say good-bye

Or stand in a soup-kitchen line

With hollow, hungry eye

No one will fill their greedy lips

With bread torn from the poor

Then cuss because their padded hips

Were once size twenty-four

Upon this perfect day our hands

Will give instead of take

Duty will ease its stoic demands

For picnics by the lake

Laughter will travel on each breeze

On every mouth, a smile

As we stroll through the hour with ease

And walk a second mile

No one will kiss another’s love

Or steal a child’s first bloom

Each lonely child will have a hug

And somewhere to call home

We all will take the time to pray

No one will fight or yell

And all our pain will melt away

And all the sick be well

Once upon a perfect day

Sweet peace will deck this sod

As bombs and guns are put away

With faces turned to God

Then bitterness will be subdued

And hate vanish away

As hearts o’er-flow with gratitude

Upon this perfect day

Janet Martin~


Today's prompt; Once upon a...

Rain-song

I hear the rain fall softly on the morn where once we lay
It rouses up the scent of dust; of corn and fresh-mown hay
And how the twilight comes too soon with misty lullabies
Drawing its body o’er the moon with dark and down-cast eyes

How much it seems like you are here; and oh how we would dance
Into your arms I fall, my dear and melt into your glance
As you, with lips against my hair, our heart-beats intertwine
We toss misgivings to the air; drunk on love’s fuller wine

Hold me closer, darling; take me out into the rain
If I must leave by morning, I will not have loved in vain
Truth and fact loom broad and bold against the thinning dark
And I begin to feel the cold in midnight’s waning spark

I hear the rain fall softly on the morn where once we lay
Its notes a tender love song washing fallow, dull and gray
And how it seems that you are here, somewhere in the same rain
I hold you closer to me, dear, I have not loved in vain

Time’s wink may swallow up the hour and present soon is done
With you I dance upon the flower; and fly into the sun
Tilt back your head my darling, drink the nectar from the sky
We’ll always love each other and we’ll never say good-bye

The raindrop skims the rooftops and the field where we would dance
It sparkles on my memory and quivers in my glance
The silver tears of midnight weep upon earth’s polished floor
I hear the distant billows sweep a cold and empty shore

If life’s a dance, my darling, then the rain must be its song
Before the night is morning someone else’s love is gone
I’ll hold you closer to me, kiss the teardrop in your eye
Somewhere the sun is shining and we’ll never say good-bye


Janet Martin

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