So Long Ago...

You scrawled your name upon my heart
And nonchalantly took your leave
To you its just forgotten art
But oh, my heart is not a tree

You took without a second thought
A tender vital part of me
I’m sure it’s something you forgot
But oh, my soul is not a tree

You played a round of daisy-love
My final petal said ‘love me’
You must have finished, ‘love me not’
And tossed the bloom beneath the tree…

…then scrawled your name upon my heart
On a surface none can see
To you its long-forgotten art
Scrawled on a long-forgotten tree

J~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eluKv50Kck8&list=HL1325126263&feature=mh_lolz



http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com/

Poetry Jam invites us to put on music and write so I chose Moon River and wrote...
(link to song above)

Perfect Poet...

On my way home the fields deepened
From golden lakes to purple seas
On my way home a perfect poet
Wrote across the sky with ease
No words were needed to express
His depth of love, on my way Home
The Master breathed upon the west
And wrote for me a perfect poem

Janet

Eat it Slowly ...

http://lkkolp.wordpress.com/2011/12/28/eat-slow-and-enjoy-it/

(this poem was inspired as I read the poem at the link above)

Eat it slowly,
The poem you read
The book,
Savor the flavor
Don’t gulp it down
Without a second look
Eat it slowly
That full moon night
Just you and him
Soon the moon will slip beneath
Day's yawning brim
Drink it slowly
Purest love from
Little girl or bare-foot boy
Oh, they are so beautiful
Their smiles
A butter-cup of joy
And they want to be loved,
Slowly
Not with a quick nod or glance
But to hold your hand
Do nothing
But eat life slowly
Laugh and dance
Eat it slowly,
This dish of wonder
This miracle of being; doing
For life is far too quickly over
To rush and gulp it
Without chewing

Janet

If you come to a pit just spit it out...and keep chewing slowly,
extracting every bit of flavor from every bite...the key to health and happiness!

Spent...

http://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/2011/12/27/in-form-poehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gift-dizain/

Child’s face plastered against an ethereal pane
Dark, hollow eyes follow me everywhere
A haunting plea of misery and pain
A cry, unheeded hangs on stricken air
Of hunger, hopelessness and stark despair

A world of things looms far across the sea
Oblivious to his wail of poverty
Where excess is the fount of discontent
While greed becomes a noose of misery
Across the sea a small child’s hope is spent

Janet~

A Dizain

Thoughts Between Sleeping

Turning a blind eye to the truth…
…does not alter it.

It is in admitting defeat, not in waking…
…that separates the dreamer from the dream.

Truth is not an opinion or an option…It IS

If every snowflake ever that fell
Would symbolize a year in heaven or hell
…it would still in completion be
But the first breath of eternity

If we handled every moment
As though it could be our last
We would not bear the torment
Of a could-have, should-have past

Fat, thin
Short, tall
Lord God
Made us all

To wish for what is not
Is to waste what is

Harsh words are claw-scratches on a tender soul

There is no darkness so fierce, that a spark cannot pierce.

Have you ever watched the twilight move in?
It takes layers of darkness to extinguish light
And one little star to dispel utter darkness

Janet~

I can't remember all of them, but it seemed like words pressed sleep from my eyes last night, resulting in a series of dozes rather than sound sleep...too much sitting/eating, perhaps?

Year...

Her name doth not bespeak her guild
Her countenance of mystery
Maiden, both tender and strong-willed
The fore-runner to history
Just one humble four-letter word
To sum a twelve-month portal
Of grief and healing, joy and hurt
Weaving her gown immortal
We ponder, as we tread upon
The remnant of her garment
Translucent threads from dusk to dawn
To dusk, soon will be dormant
With ardent hope we strain to see
The form of her successor
As this year follows faithfully
Her silent predecessor
And we, with sentimental tear
Murmur a farewell homage
She slips away, another Year
To history’s steadfast visage
Her bosom bears the moment where
We wept our bitter sorrow
Or yielded in a humble prayer
The dread of life’s tomorrow
She carries on her pallid lips
The echo of four seasons
And disappears, into the mist
As midnight tolls her leaving
With her she takes each tick of time
That formed her ethereal being
Away, into archaic climes
No eye beholds her fleeing
For we have turned with song and cheer
To greet a form untarnished
Behold, behold a virgin Year
Waits where the old has vanished

Janet~

Time's Composition

On autumn’s golden aftermath
December spreads an argent path
Warm trails once green with wanderlust
Lie dead and still in winter’s dusk
And where the song of meadow lark
Once tuned the hour before dark
The wind prevails with solemn moan
A low and moody winter song

Summer’s gentle melancholy
That stirred the midnight willow tree
Has donned a keen and somber note
From winter’s cold and sullen throat
No breeze to softly sigh or taunt
The cool and shaded lover’s haunt
But from the stripped and barren dell
The plaintive tune of winter’s knell

And here we pause to contemplate
The worth of moments we create
As through its kaleidoscope we peer
At patterns layered year on year
Where swiftly fleeting hours transcend
Beyond the visages of men
And winter plays its chilling lay
Then slips to fields of yesterday

Oh, touch the bow to transient strings
And listen to the song it sings
Dance to the music of the hour
For soon the earth reclaims its flower
On autumn’s golden aftermath
The winter sheds its temporal wrath
As Time composes breath by breath
A melody from life to death

Janet~

Sometimes it seems we mark seasons by the transition of the familiar, and it struck me as I was out on my run today, that I am faithfully seduced by the beauty of every season!
The stretch I run is marked by seasonal beauty and song...in spring the wind laughs,in the summer it sighs, in the autumns it is restless and moody and in the winter it moans...

The End of the Ball

http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/12/mag-97.html

She parts her lips in a paper smile
it is to late to retrieve
innocence
so she waves and laughs for a little while
other throats to appease
and at a glance
she appears to have it all
but the keen observer
is not deceived
behind darkened lashes
lies a haunted void
of grief and need
silencing the infamous laugh
as she signs off her debt

Janet