Love's Sense of Humour

 I often find myself using the first two lines in this song;

"I don't mind the thought of growing old,

I just don't want to lose my sense of humor"

(because He's and She's seem to retain ageless quirks and quaint idiosyncrasies;-))

This bowing and curtsying cuddle and fuss

First started by He and She and Her and Him

Vexes, befuddles and oh, muddles us

Perplexing word’s wittiest acronym

These Habits of Him and These Fancies of Her

Startles the finest of Mr. and Miss

Time's silly, common strangeness of humor

Is sometimes a sucker-punch, sometimes a kiss

Kindly distract Her, kind sir, with your laughter

Blindly attract Him, dear Her with your smile

Time forgets days; twixt its before and after

Starry-eyed dreamers and Life reconcile

…teaching the reach of touch-greedy young lovers

Of He and She, Him and Her, Ma’am and Sir

Since Time’s beginning how yet to recover

From love’s sense of humor birthed by Him and Her

© Janet Martin

September's Farewell Note

I rose this morning to witness the dawning

Of September’s farewell regaled

With wishes and kisses, but all that I found

Was a freight-train of flowers derailed

© Janet Martin

The Blue of Time's Candor

(click on images to enlarge)

The blue of Time’s candor, like moody fall splendor

Sweeps in from without yet seeps out from within

It courts hurried hours and flings wide-eyed flowers

Into bygone’s bowers of gossamer skin

The blue of Time’s candor compels us to wander

Where summer-set settles, three seasons away

Each leaf, like a pencil, each stem like a poised quill

Spills sun-tattered verses of death and decay

The blue of time’s candor rolls through gated pasture

Its waves washing heart-ward with echo and whim

An ethereal ocean rises in slow-motion

It ravages laughter and landscape and limb

Time’s blue traipses over rose-rivers of clover

It unravels rainbows; blue will have its way

As sun-warm reflection dons cooler complexion

And blue of time’s candor turns gold silver-gray

© Janet Martin

September-Swindler

You toss Her tress with wind-song

You strum Her air-borne spheres

You tug Her hug of lowered sky

And break it into tears

You dazzle noon with kisses

You frazzle frond and flow’r

And by the hill you fill the rill

With remnants of Her hour

You thrum in thought and yonder

Upon the blue-skimmed slope

You thrill eye-cups with wonder

They spill in renewed Hope

You frame the day with longings

Too sacred to be tamed

Reminding us that Some Things

Remain ever unnamed

…while trees turn leaves to lamplight

Shedding joy’s haloed grief

You wean Her from Time's orbit

Into each drifting leaf

© Janet Martin

...the speckles in the photo below are leaves from the walnut trees.

The Beautiful Blessing of Friends...

They help us to handle

Whatever life sends

A flesh-and-blood candle

We simply call Friends

How sad would be sorrow

How biting its tear

How dreary tomorrow

Without friends to cheer

They gladden Time’s ages

Peasants feel like kings

As friends smooth the pages

Of trouble life brings

Friends fill heart-shaped fountains
That swell with pure laughter
Friends ring out the joy-bells
Hung from Heaven's rafter

How harsh would be heartache

How colder the cold

If there was no handshake

Of friendship to hold

They keen with compassion

Whatever life sends

This beautiful blessing

We simply call Friends

© Janet Martin

Who’s that? asked the little guy I babysit, as I waved at a lady walking her dog. Oh, that’s my friend, I replied and found myself slowly cherishing the word ‘friend’ and how little the word of the largeness it holds.... We were in a nearby town to pick up some ingredients to make a birthday supper tonight for another friend.

   Friend is a small 
   word with a big
  heart 

Some friends we meet on a regular basis
Others are friends met through words, not faces
But no matter how or where we 'meetest'
Of all of life's blessings
friendship is sweetest .

Thank-you to all my friends who pause on this porch.
Blessings to you and yours.