Making Doughnuts and Memories

I wonder, he says

As he dangles the dough

Heavily in the air

Letting it land ungracefully

Like a selfish prayer,

I wonder if I promised to give him

Pizza for life,

For free

If Dad would allow me to be a baker

Instead of what I was going to be

…and I turn to gaze at this not-quite-a-man child

With a sudden wave of yearning

Life lies before him, a wide-open field

Ripe with lure of learning

Smiling and coaxing the dreamer to dream

Merrily splashing in life’s endless stream

Not yet restrained by the tempered truth

That experience withholds from tender youth

I turn off the doom-and-gloom news story

Saying, ‘son, you can be anything you want to be’

© Janet Martin

I told Emily that I'm trying to see the beauty of dough floating on grease...the pay-off was in the moans and sighs of bliss as they tasted the fruit of their labor...one of them said they didn't know anything could taste this good!:) Victoria reminded me that treats are those things you don't do very often...that's what makes it a treat!

Doughnut Recipe

Irreplacable

 

I tried to find another word

To tell you how I feel

One not so common, often heard

Yet still honest and real

I tried to find a word to spell

The oceans in my heart

And hurricanes within the knell

Of parting’s priceless art

But when I weighed your soft-half grin

The barracks where you let me in

The half-breath longing in your sigh

Wonder that dwarfs time’s little sky

The second look and second mile

Forgiveness uttered in a smile

Something so old yet ever new

Compelling us to remain true

Then, when I tried to compensate

With lesser words something so great

I failed for one cannot improve

The fathoms spelled in this word: Love

© Janet Martin

There is no other way
to properly say,
'I love you'.

Anew...Thoughts of a Mother

 

Stunned anew

By the staggering wonder

And boundless proportions of love

She could not relinquish them

But for the knowing

That Love intercedes from above

Awed anew

By the tenure of heart-strings

Tender, yet potent and strong

Binding the love

Of mother’s and children

Wherever life leads them along

Buoyed anew

By the breath of a whisper

Brushing the ache in her soul

Love reassures

With gentle reminder

That He is in faithful control

© Janet Martin

I cannot imagine the 'letting go' as mother's send their sons/daughters to war...just now as my daughter said, 'bye mom, I'm leaving for work now' the breath went out of me in sudden wonder-rush of love.

Mercy-song...a Rubáiyát

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt  The Rubáiyát

The music of life’s fervent flow

Is bittersweet; now swift, now slow

The rise and fall of centuries

Surging, to melt like streams of snow

Hail, moment-tear, why do you rush

To tune the sphere of midnight’s hush?

I pause to hear your subtle sigh

Sparkle on daybreak’s dew-drenched brush

The virgin gleam of morning-spire

Throbs, a requiem of new desire

Replenishing our flagging vim

In cadences from heaven’s choir

Ah, agony of moment-mirth

Of shadows spilling on dusk’s girth

Where soon the dawn provokes the dark

And splashes grace across the earth

We lift our cups up, brave and high

To taste life’s honey from the sky

For soon its dripping melody

Will sweep in languid lullaby

The music of life’s second chance

Inspires us to dream and dance

Forsaking yesterday’s lament

To revel in hope’s moment-glance

Mercy and grace do not keep score

Kissing our failures through Time’s door

They tune their harps with renewed zest

And beckon us to sing once more

© Janet Martin

Snow Queen

Pastel silk scarves

Dangle somewhere

In dressing-rooms aloft

I wonder,

Does she pine to wear

Its ribbons, smooth and soft?

Her frozen crystal-

Gilded sash

Presses against her skin

It seems that she

Cannot unveil

Her colors sealed within

She cannot choose

A petal-gown

Of lavender and green

For now she bears

The weighted crown

Reserved for her; Snow Queen

© Janet Martin

Buses are cancelled. It looks as though we are going to attempt doughnut-making today. I promised Matthew and Victoria that on the next snow-day we will make home-made donuts. Matthew was astonished one day last week when I told him it is possible to make donuts. He wants to see how it works, so wish us luck. I have not deep-fried dough in years!

Of Hallmarks and Honor

No one but God beholds the field

Where our keen wars are fought

The clash of wrong and right concealed

On battlegrounds of thought

No fellow-soldier cheers us on

Though skirmishes are rough

Our battle is beheld by One

And yet, that is enough

The aftermath of mind-fought wars

Tenders its casualties

Into the crypt of Time before

Immortal victories

No pennants of fair fame applaud

Our fetes fervid and grand

Thought-valor is beheld by God

Our trophy in His hand

For none but He beholds the plain

Where conflicts wage and groan

As demon-enemies are slain

And armies overthrown

The medal of thought-honor gleams

Not from podium or shelf

But as our kind Captain esteems

The battle-ground of self

© Janet Martin

Thank-you Cynthia, for the Old Rugged Cross coaster.

Like Sand-castles

You slip away

Like sand-castles

Beneath my skin

Falling pray

To the surge

Of an ocean

Within

But now and then

In sudden

Ecstasy

I find the place

Where once you

Used to

Be

The rippling rush

Sweeping Time’s

Rampart

Can never wash

Your whisper

From my

Heart

J~

February Night Storm

He is not playful tonight; darkness reels

His venom pelts fiercely, glazing windowpanes

The silver-tipped reed of full-moon appeal

Shudders beneath his tempestuous refrains

No corner is spared of his seething rage

Growling he ravages, savage and grim

Like a hungry beast released from his cage

He lunges, snarling at the stark, naked limb

Spilling his scathing ice-shard repertoire

Enhancing the comfort of kind, kindled fire

Fly, little bird, to your hole in the tree

Hop, little bunny to thickets and brush

We will not challenge his cold mutiny

Stripping the fell of its calm, full-moon hush

Rock-a-bye girlie and sleep little man

This cold scavenger cannot reach your cot

Pull up those covers as snug as you can

Dream of sand-castles and for-get-me-not

For somewhere beneath earth’s frozen facade

Trembles the surge of spring’s bloom-dappled sod

Then let him vent, howling outside the door

Splattering dregs of his fury, snow-spun

Though now they humor his bold, burlesque roar

Soon they will melt in the kiss of the sun

Rattle the sashes and whimpering trees

Spew frozen threats from your blue-puckered mouth

Oh, harbinger of fragrant, buxom breeze

You cannot conquer the streams from the south

Somewhere the bondage of spring’s petal-fray

Will softly unravel and nudge you away

© Janet Martin

The windows are glazed in his temperamental dally between snow and rain.

It will be snow by morning. I can sleep now:) I wrote this while I was waiting for my daughter to get home from work. She arrived, (midnight) very happy to be here, the roads are heavy with the snow that fell before the rain/snow mix. The fire crackles, the wood-pile is replenished, we are warm and have so much to be thankful for. I pray everyone is warm, safe and dry tonight.

Goodnight.