What Mother's Anticipate...

Mothers can wait for the house to be tidy

When footsteps no longer dash over mopped floors

And mothers can wait for those years of pure quiet

No shouting voices or slamming of doors

Mothers can wait for the days of no laundry

And sparkling windows with no trace of a kiss

Where curious noses press to its barrier

Because they are wondering ‘where mother is’

Mothers can wait for long days with no duty

For surely to be busy is heaven on earth

And toiling for loved ones is life’s finest beauty

Filling each moment with purpose and worth

…but mothers smile softly with anticipation

For they cannot wait for that most special day

When childish eagerness plucks for sweet mother

A humble, yet glorious dandelion bouquet

© Janet Martin

Just a Song...

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?

If it’s just a violin, why can I hear it plea?

If it’s just a dance twixt living and dying

Oh, darling let’s make it the best it can be

If it’s just a song of cello and timbrel

Then why do I hear the tempo of time

Charting its chorus; a relentless minstrel

Clutching my heart in its rhythm and rhyme?

If it’s just a song, why do the words move me

Until I’m unable to see through my tears?

If it’s just a song, darling, will you love me

Long after the music of life’s quickened years?

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?

Why do I hear more than its raw melody?

If it’s just a song twixt living and dying

Then darling, let’s make it the best it can be

J~

On the Threshhold of Twilight

Here is the hour of musk-tender power

Drawing the shadow of dusk on the day

Here is the hour that unfolds like a flower

In petals of amber and soft silver-gray

Here is the taunting in warm-whispered wanting

For one precious hour of fair pasts to return

Here is the portal where time-tempered mortal

Recalls dim-lit gardens for which softly we yearn

Here is the meadow where memories echo

Bitter-sweet sonnet of sorrow and mirth

As twilight comes stealing, life’s hurt and its healing

Swells in the stillness that blankets the earth

Here is the hour as darkness creeps lower

When exile is sweeter than noon’s laughing clan

For darkness makes clearer and somehow draws nearer

The whisper of memories common to man

© Janet Martin

Perfection

What lies beyond the pale blue hill

Of moments as they flow?

Why, simply this; God’s perfect will

Wherever we may go~

Janet

Trouble Me Not...

Trouble me not; oh fear of tomorrow

Unknown is the visage of future intent

Trouble me not; oh yesterday’s sorrow

Firm is the seal on a moment when spent

Trouble me not; oh guilt that would haunt me

But for the Hands bearing scars in my stead

Trouble me not; though failure would taunt me

But for the Hope as my pardon flows red

Trouble me not; restless oceans of longing

Vain are the futile endeavors of dust

But oh, what fulfillment and peace in belonging

To He in whom we can affix our trust

Trouble me not; Lord, I plead for Your presence

To conquer the demons that quake ‘neath Your gaze

When I am weak God, Your strength is perfected

As I relinquish my will to Your ways

© Janet Martin

 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, 

for my power is made perfect in weakness. 

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, 

so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  2 Cor. 12:9

Things Change~

a-a-a-ah! I thought Poetic Bloomings said 'take a line from a favorite movie' They asked for the title...oh well, this still remains a favorite line for the inspiration of this poem...I'll try a title later:) My kids are coming off the bus as I post this.

Things change. They always do, it's one of the things of nature.

~Bridges of Madison County~

Things change…

For better or worse

Blessing or curse

Things never stay the same

In the hour of sorrow

There is hope…

…for tomorrow things will change

And in moments of laughter

We know

They will echo

Long after

The good-byes and the tears

Because we realize now

Things change

And somehow the years

Make us more keenly aware

Of this absolute truth

We cherish moments with care

While dreamers of youth

Reach

Aspire

To the great beyond

We dwell

In the desire

Of this moment... on…

© Janet Martin

In the midst of  all change One remains changeless....thank-you God.

The Possibilites of Chance

Sunday Whirl 55

There is nothing absolute in the realm of chance

An ellipsis of maybes’;

But your cute wink and glance

Caught me off-guard

As I seek to align

My head

With my heart

Resolutions grind

To a hook-line-and-sinker halt

For something in your cobalt-blue gaze

Turns clear-print resolve to a vibrating haze

Then, in contrast to my practicality

I follow the dots of chance and maybe…

For I see, emerging from my sudden trance

The possibility of a beautiful dance

© J~

Sonnet of Spring's (or Life's) Deepening Twilight

 Take Me Home

See how the wave of twilight converges

Over pine spires to the shore of the skies

Feel how its motionless euphony surges

In earth-scented eighth-notes and willow-limb sighs

Far in the distance the spring-peeper heralds

In vespers of innocence, its wee acclaim

Beyond the hills a backdrop of coral

Deepens to ruby in ethereal flame

The brave bloom of spring-time closes its mouth

As sassy noon zephyrs repose to the south

Stillness in choirs of heavenly tenure

Dissolves life’s temporal struggle and hurt

A melody of longing and languor

Wakens the diamond asleep in the dirt

A river of moments and memories roll

Over the spectator perched on night's brim

No word or syllable touches the soul

As earth’s Creator conducts twilight’s hymn

The shimmer and shadow of moon-haloed tones

Brushes the meadow and cool cobblestones

See how the rise and fall of eve’s ocean

Clutches the heart in the swell of its cape

Feel how the tide of wordless emotion

Aches in the hollow of thought without shape

Loss and fulfillment, failure, forgiveness

End and beginning, future and past

Hurting and healing and hope coalesce

Under the banner of twilight’s broad mast

The Maestro directs the subtle release

Of night as it falls in an anthem of peace

© Janet Martin

Steal Away...

as I listen to this I simply have the 

over-whelming need to write something! 

...also this Take Me Home...The Island

J~

...is Poetry

To bleed a heart upon a page

Can be a fearful leap of faith

To taste the flavor of a word

Can juxtapose pleasure and hurt

To free a thought from ivory skull

Can be a tortured push and pull

Commiserated misery

And ecstasy

Is poetry

J~

  

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway

Of Gossamer Eclipses...

Away, away, the past is laid

In coffers firmly sealed

Afar, afar the future waits

Its mystery unrevealed

But now, but now one moment breathes

A gossamer eclipse

As future becomes present

For one gasp upon our lips

Then it recedes; a silk-spun waft

To time’s elusive crypt

Just as another, whisper-soft

Brushes our finger-tips…

Future to present to the past

The shadow of all three

Coalesce as they are cast

In breaths, to history

Janet Martin

Defining Present...
...inhaling future
exhaling past