Us

Not as the hope of gardens
Frozen in winter’s sod
Or tempests bowing the hemlock low
In cold forced worship to God

Not as the physical hunger
Growling its urgent plea
Nor as the hunger of nature’s wrath
Sweeping across the sea

Not as the rising and falling
Of dawn to midnight’s chime
Guiding the quadrille of seasons on
Over the landscape of Time

Love is no summer in waiting
…a hunger of constant torment
Though its storm may surge through our beings
In passion never fully spent

Love is a pure, purposed constant
Eluding the will of my pen
Complex in its unrivaled fullness
Evading mere script of men

In the rising and falling of moments
Or the seasons that vex earth’s cusp
Oh my darling, it is bliss to know
That love will always be…us

Janet~

Winter Dusk...

If only for a moment
Stop; be still
Motionless as the cloud
On distant hill
Or the snowflake
Hovering without sound
Ere it falls to oblivion
On snow-covered ground
As still as the breeze
Holding its breath
As winter serenity
Cradles the earth
As staid as the reeds
Blooming in snow
Or the flight of a bird
Etched in the glow
Of the burnished sun
In its silent descent
Or the moon climbing quietly
From the Orient
Deepening the sallow
Of noon-tide hue
And painting the fallow
In ribbons of blue
As still as the tree-limb
Stripped of its shade
Yet bolder in beauty
Its naked form splayed
Against the sky-line
As daylight grows dim
Stop; oh, be still…
…and you will hear Him


Janet

I was out the other night at dusk…
…the quiet, startling,
…the western skyline rich with nameless colors
and the east an ever-deepening intensity of blue.
It was AWESOME.

Tuesday Late Afternoon Haiku

Blissful caffeine jolt
Pianist seeking pleasure
Painful notes collide

Knitting needles click
Rush of rain beneath traffic
Supper sizzling

Daylight swallowed whole
Aroma of contentment
Sighs in the twilight

Janet~

Of Unforgotten Things...re-post from a year ago on Jan. 17th

http://margaretbednar365.blogspot.com/ Margaret gave me an idea...to see what was on my mind a year ago today...

Now and then the twilight steals
An hour from the dreamers calm
Entranced by sudden phantom reels
Playing out across its palm
Suddenly the landscape rings
With songs of unforgotten things

And there beneath the willow tree
And the locusts serenade
We gathered in camaraderie
Sipping ice-cold lemonade
And dreaming dreams befitting kings
Molding unforgotten things

Upon the cold and frosty air
I hear the soft and gentle tone
Of a mother’s voice in prayer
When her day of toil was done
And the night wind softly sings
Of dear and unforgotten things

I view in silent reverie
Each scene that passes one by one
Through portals of my memory
Here for a breath and then it’s gone
Until perhaps a moment brings
The sigh of unforgotten things

Janet~

I just re-read this poem a few days ago. I was trying to find some poems my parents would enjoy. My Dad is an 'invalid' for the first time in his life (he broke his collar-bone) He is seventy years old and he said he has been hurt before but never had a broken bone...and never anything that kept him from work for any length of time. He still helps my brothers on their farms.
I put together a little scrap-book of photos and poem to share my 'hobby' with him. I included this poem. Ironically, it is the 'year ago' poem.

Consummation

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2012/01/viceversa-midnight-snack-weekly-prompt_17.htmlhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

I allow thoughts of you to consume me
Without the fear of remorse or regret
Darling, how is it that nothing can move me
Like you; as you whisper in my heart and my head

I endeavor to collect countless memories
In their warm presence I am blissful; content
Let history repeat itself; when I am with you
Every moment is a moment well-spent

J~

Follow the Leader

I followed my heart
But I think it lied
The heart is a fickle
and foolish guide

I followed my head
It's advice staidly done
Now all that I need
Is a whole lot of fun

The moral of this tale
Teaches one simple fact
A life well-lived
Is a balancing act

Janet~

Those Things We Never Say

She would have preferred
Collecting memories
With you
Instead she collects...
Things.
Granite strainers,
Rolling pins,
Stamps.

J~

Margo Roby is challenging us to write about those things we never say... She is giving us permission to say them! This is going to be fun. (if I get the time;)

Tuesday Morning Haiku

Groceries put away
Produce washed; ready to eat
Little boys playing ‘fort’

Rain-song on driveway
Heaven mirrored in the grass
Fog clothes barrenness

Janet~