Another Porch ...A Poetry Blog

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Honey or Vinegar?

They have the power

To build or destroy

They can sweeten the hour

Or rob it of joy

With them we bind closely

Or tear apart

The beautiful fellowships

Of the heart

They may leave us cold

Or deeply stirred

The power we hold

In the form of a word

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Of Muddles and Music...

Dance through the muddle of life

For oh, when the music stops

You’ll wish for the tune of clattering spoon

The music of messes and mops

Sing through the muddle of life

For oh, when the house is still

How oft we will hear the music drift near

The way that a memory will

Laugh through the muddle of life

For oh, life is too short to fret

And we do not care to fill its brief share

With days we would rather forget

Love through the muddle of life

For oh, if we choose to wait

For the perfect time and the perfect rhyme

Well then, it might be too late

Sometimes when its ‘teen-age noisy, messy’ I need to remind myself of this! And dance, sing, laugh, love.

November's Farewell Song

What is that song you play tonight?

It rolls across the cobalt eve

Where finger-tips of silver-white

Strum branches aching for their leaves

What is that melody we hear?

Of still and starless diadem

Tolling the waning of a year

In farewell notes of snowflake gem

Who plays this moody minuet

A sudden, surging solitude

Where daylight rests her weary head

As rushing winds are calm, subdued

Where is the Maestro that instructs

This tender, tortured euphony?

It trembles in the midnight arch

And drifts across the frozen lea

What is that song; a humble hymn

Autumn’s postlude, a lullaby

That trickles from the silent scrim

Of deep November-night good-bye

Love-wish

I would love

To learn to love you

The way you

Would love

To be loved

Our Full Awakening

We see alas, through darkened glass

But oh, sweet resurrection

As from our knees we look to see

More than hope’s faint reflection

Through dim-lit skies our prayers arise

And make their heavenly journey

But on that day we’ll toss away

This load of mortal worry

Then we will pass through earth’s dark glass

To arms, loving and tender

We’ll lift our eyes to paradise

And heaven’s unmarred splendor

Upon our sight, the Lamb; the Light

Will rend night’s veil forever

And we will be eternally

Where death can never sever

Thank-you Sherry, I borrowed your Full Awakening theme.

'Twas Christmas Eve and all through town the lights blinked red and green,
Snow was softly falling down where naked worlds had been,
Last minute shoppers rushed on home, discarding final lists,
While others packed up and left town to see dear folk they’d missed

Then, as I gazed on up the street I spied a form alone,
He wandered as if searching for something a long time gone,
He paused to view the festive scenes in windows twinkling bright,
Where ‘Merry Xmas’ signs were strung in honor of this night

Then up the silent street He trod, his steps were sad and slow,
Unlike the rush these walks had known a few short hours ago,
Past Santa’s smiling face he walked, past a twinkling Christmas tree,
Up to a window brightly lit where he could stand and see

Inside each person rushed about dreaming of Christmas day,
Dressing up the turkey or tucking last gifts away,
Dreaming of feasts, laughter and gifts, tables o’er-flowing with food
Trees laden down with presents for all, oh, what a holiday mood

Stockings were hung at the fireplace, everything was complete,
The table was set with cookies and milk for Santa’s special treat,
While folk all sang the Christmas carols and talked of Christmas cheer,
The stranger outside the window turned away and wiped a tear

Tis true, he cried, tis awful truth, I see it all too well,
The reason why they choose to cross out that first syllable,
Tis Merry Xmas, that is sure, the baby and Bethlehem’s star
Are simply vague traditions from the past, so faint and far

They’ve forgotten the ‘Christ’ is what this day is really all about,
That the true meaning is all gone if they choose to cross Him out,
They’ve forgotten, it is Christ, not Santa, that represents Christmas Day,
And in truth it is Merry Xmas if they choose to put him away

He wiped his tears and whispered, I’m sorry but I cannot stay here,
I simply do not feel at home amidst this festive cheer,
I watched him turn with broken heart and slowly walk away,
Twas then I saw the Man was Christ in search of Christmas Day

Janet Martin

You can purchase this poem performed by Scott Woods here. It is #16 on the CD.

Thank-you Scott!

Silent Night; Celtic Thunder