Somewhere on the Other Side

Somewhere on the other side

Of this sequined glass

You are there

As moments comb the air

And hours pass

Turning half-breaths to years

In the exchange of smiles and tears

Falling in between

What now is

And what once had been

We are masters of nothing

But thought and its repercussion

As longing and love collide

And somewhere on the other side

Of this bejeweled pane

You look out to see

Your portion of the rain

Disguised as weather

Streetlamps do not care

If we are apart or together

J~

As I Think about Men and Women

Men and women seek

Other men and women

Trying to fill a void within

Men and women find

Other men and women to nurture

Or heal its damaged mien

Men and women love

Men and women

For Love is a thread, its power profound

As men and women wish

For other men and women

By its gossamer potency we are bound

Men and women need

Other men and women

To satisfy love’s single utter plea

There is no other way

And no other beauty

Like these friendships both now

And yet to be…

© Janet Martin

The Sunday Whirl

I See...

I see a day longing to be tasted

And an hour begging to be perfectly wasted

In the arms of a poem

I see silver sequins of autumn rain

Dazzling the view through the window-pane

Of home sweet home

I see little girl, eyes dancing with dream-sparked glee

…her chatter epitomizing ‘carefree’

And I need no purpose beyond its measure

I see the tears of autumn sky tug the leaf

In scads to the drenched earth’s sheaf

Blanketing the vault of summer’s pleasure

I see suggestions of duty which I temporarily ignore

As I experience coffee, Colombian nectar

Pleasing my utmost superficial want

I see distance as rain releases its onslaught

On miles traversed instantly by thought

As inches and oceans vaunt

I see contentment in mixing bowls, pot-and-pan verve

I see peaceful belonging in the familiar curves

Of worn furniture and floors

I see hope unwavering, of what is yet to come

As a new day spills in rain-drop percussion

From far and phantom shores

© Janet Martin

Inspired by Viv's I See poem. Also check out the picture of Jock's art on her post!

Irrefutable Dialogue

Love is a dialogue

Not simply of lips

But of heart-whispered murmurs

By fingertips

We live our moments

With an immutable choice

For the heart moves the hand

Thus, the hand is our voice

Can we teach the heart

The law of the head

Or are words mere distraction

To what really is said?

Come closer, my darling

I long to convey

Without word-diversion

What I need to say

© Janet Martin

This train of thought came about this morning as my son questioned me about why people do what they do in spite of what they say... I didn't know what to say other than 'it is the heart that moves the hand...not the law of word.'

...As We Dance

Darling, oh come and dance with me

For time offers no guarantee

Today will soon be yesterday

And that’s how lifetimes slip away

See how fleet years of painted hope

Whisper upon the purple slope

Feel the breath-kiss of moments pass

A murmur on time’s trampled grass

Darling, how can we bear to waste

Love-moments as they glide in haste

Across the ball-room of the earth

Where seasons spill their meager mirth?

The cold wind broods upon the stones

In blue and moody undertones

The blush of youth, the crown of age

Will settle ‘neath time’s silver sage

Longing and loss and love impart

Their want in oceans of the heart

Fulfillment is a mystic glance

Bestowed in moments as we dance

© Janet Martin

Save the last dance for me...J~

Time's Ever-hastening Season

With hope’s fresh hint in coral tint

Night’s deep begins to soften

On earth’s dark palm where all is calm

We sense the urge of morning

The raven tree etched flawlessly

On canvasses of heaven

Has laid its crown of glory on

Time’s ever-hastening season

Into the clutch of mortal touch

Unsullied moments murmur

From God to man, from heart to hand

Fall, winter, spring and summer

Then, as they slip from fingertip

To scripts of unknown reason

We recognize ‘neath life’s disguise

Time’s ever-hastening season

Upon the slope of virgin hope

A new day stirs our slumber

From heaven’s keep the moments weep

Like fall leaves without number

As we embrace the Hand of Grace

Imbued with Divine Reason

His love imparts from heav’n-ramparts

Time’s ever-hastening season

This tent of woe; it must forego

The mansions up in glory

From birth to death, each gifted breath

Is writing our life-story

As through our grasp brief moments pass

Beyond our feeble reason

From dawn to Dawn we journey on

Time’s ever-hastening season

 Janet Martin

An Evening Prayer

 In St. Jacobs, Ont. the church bells peal out across the town, those precious, timeless hymns. (at 12:00 noon and 6:00 p.m.)

Dear Lord, before I lay me down to sleep

A thousand thoughts un-uttered press and plead

And though my soul is safe within Thy keep

And though I know Thou knowest every need

I have of Thee;  let me not seek slumber’s release

Without first lifting up my heart to Thee

In humble gratitude; Thy mercies never cease

In spite of vile, wretched humanity

In spite of mankind’s crass ingratitude

In spite of our vanity and lust

Each morning still Thy mercy is renewed

And love forgives our scrimmages of dust

Like dazzling dew, grace spills its mystery

In rampant glory on earth’s dark facade

Thou dost not leave us fumbling hopelessly

Lighting the Way that leads to Thee, oh God

Seasons do not resist Thee nor rebel

Nature submits to Thy holy command

Time labors on earth’s harsh four-season swell

And man will choose to trust or test the Hand

That holds all things in pure, perfect control

And though we do not do the good we should

Still, Thou hast made a way for every soul

To be saved by the power in Thy blood

The rich, the poor, Lord, none escapes Thy gaze

There is no good or evil hid from Thee

Though we will never understand Thy ways

Lord, teach us how to trust unwaveringly

And Lord, before I lay me down to sleep

I pray that all would come to know Thy love

And rest assured within Thy tender keep

Until we meet in glory-lands above

© Janet Martin

 

When My Joy-cup Was Full

…and so you slip from me

Over an ethereal brink

I place your memory

In thoughts of stilted ink

The hour where we laughed

And held each others smile

Has hastened down a misty path

Where echoes tune its mile

The folds of history

Shimmer with smiles and tears

Preserved where none can see

The aftermath of years

Yet, as I sense the power

Of Time’s keen moment-pull

I thank God for the hour

When my joy-cup was full

© Janet Martin

Today was a great day of family as my mom and her daughters (us sisters) enjoyed a day of being 'tourists' in our local town of St. Jacobs, Ontario, Canada. The above pictures are glimpses of this town as it 'used to be'. An artist is 'rebuilding the town' .