The Truth About Us...

 image source: islandnet.com

Poetics Aside Prompt: Take the phrase “The Truth About (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem.

Longing is that part

Of being human

That can never be entirely met

But it spurs the dreamer

To the dream

And keeps us looking

Ahead

I have found a reprieve

Of sorts

For the greater longing

Within

It bleeds in

Ink-drops shaping words

Its crux; a pen

The truth about us

Is nothing new

Too soon we all grow old

But longing

Drives us from the warmth

To search

In bitter cold

© Janet Martin

The Truth about Women

Poetics Aside Prompt: Take the phrase “The Truth About (blank),” replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem.

This movie is a family favorite at our house...

We were supposed to be watching

Shop around the Corner

But suddenly I saw her

In my peripheral view

As she watched the movie

Twixt chatter and knitting

Suddenly it hit me

She is growing up too

For one wink a girl

Then forever a woman

I study her profile

Her nose, her chin

Somewhere between breakfast

And warm hugs at bedtime

Suddenly I wonder

When did it begin?

She turns to look at me

The woman inside her

Is restless and eagerly

Waiting to bloom

She does not know

Of the urge rushing through me

To hold back the moments

The hours consume

Inside every girl

Is the bud of a woman

Time will unfold

Its intent willingly

Inside every woman

In spite of the ages

Is part of the girl

That she used to be

© Janet Martin

Making Love

 

...There

On the floor

Where the full moon

Spills

 A silver aureole

I lie

Staring out

At the night

A big black hole

Where ‘good-bye,

I love you’

Whispers from the phone

The miles morph

Between us

And we are not alone

Sometimes making love

Comes with a great price

But the true language of love

Is sacrifice

© Janet Martin

November Song of Praise

Praise Him, the meadow is stripped of its harvest

Praise Him, the orchard is plucked of its fruit

Praise Him, the chill wind roams, cold through the woodlot

Where summer’s soft leaf-song lies still at the root

Praise Him though flaunt of the garden has withered 

As gray and brown pigment fills the Painter’s brush

Praise Him; the beauty of autumn’s departure

Bleeds on the landscape in somnolent hush

Praise him; His grace is not ‘but for a season’

Praise him; His hope makes our journey worthwhile

Sunshine and suffering both have their reason

The gauntlet to glory is worth every mile

Praise Him; though chill of the twilight is weeping

Tears on the windowpane, snuffing daylight

Praise Him; for safe in the Master’s kind keeping

Are all of His children; none lost to His sight

Praise Him in glad times or seasons of waiting

Wise is the blue-print of patience-wrought faith

Praise Him; though fathoms lie twixt earth and heaven

His love surrounds us in a hallowed wraith

Praise Him; the color of autumn’s abating

Settles against the backdrop of lost charms

Time treads the corridor of God’s creating

We tread the pathway that leads to His arms

© Janet Martin

Thank-you for Those Things We Never Know

 (my cousin had this picture in her room when I was a wee, wee girl and this is what I visualize when I think about guardian angels)

My hubby just called. He is in northern Ont.in a blizzard. He was up all night getting his truck(loaded with cattle) out of a ditch where he nearly rolled it! He said it was SO close, but he and the livestock are okay now and waiting out the storm. Praying for all the 'trucker-daddies' today.AND all the busy tow-truck drivers. what would we do without you?

Thank-you God for all those times
we grumble, fret and chafe
unaware of angels
you have sent to keep us safe

We see but with the naked eye
and we will never grasp
how oft Your tender mercy
intervenes on our behalf

Janet Martin~

Dig Deep

 

The skies above are blue and bomb-free. My house is my home and my mortgage is not rent.

I am thankful one thousand times over for my two sons. They taught me why patience is a virtue and why  cars have insurance. Sons are pride and joy wrapped  in, "What now?" gift paper.  Raining Iguanas 
(with a blog name like that you've simply GOT to check it out:)

I picked a few favorite lines from a post I just read and it has caused me to

Dig Deep...
Past the fear and frustration
That attempts to steal our peace
Past the spoil of tiring toil
to a tender place of release
where we trace with humble thought
the countless gifts of love
bestowed; in moment-measured grace
From portals up above

Janet~

In Umber Deep...Or Digging Up Bones #2

Poetics Aside Prompt:Write a deep poem. The deep end of the pool. Six feet deep. Archaeology. Whatever you write, just dig deep.

While I sleep

Somewhere beneath

The shade of memory

In that dark deep

Pulses the seed

Of my descendant’s tree

So it goes

A moments flows

From one into another

The little girl

With bouncing curl

Too soon becomes a mother

The earth reclaims

All but our names

The soul is never buried

And while we sleep

In umber deep

Our soul to God is carried

© Janet Martin

Across the road from us there is a historical site: a plot of grave-markers dating back to the mid-1800's.

Digging Up Bones

Poetics Aside Prompt:Write a deep poem. The deep end of the pool. Six feet deep. Archaeology. Whatever you write, just dig deep.

Past surface urges

And weary-worn hours

Past the excuses that rob me of time

Past empty splurges

And hope’s tattered flowers

Past lines of poetry weaving their rhyme

Past murmured denial

And tear-caressed midnights

Past all the promises hammered for naught

Past hope’s soft smile

Compassionate lamp-light

There you remain; deep, deep in my thought

J~