Wednesday, March 30, 2016

To Whom It May Concern and Why





I want to look life straight in the eye
Be who you see, with nothing to hide
I don’t want to be half-me, half-fraud
I want to live like today
Is the day I am meeting God

It’s not always easy to be who we are
The strike of a serpent can leave ugly scars
I want to live with conscience set free
From who I once was
Or who, without grace I would be

I want to laugh, without guilt's discontent
I want to preach what I practice, Lord-lent
I don’t want to blush with heart-pounding fear
Should someone uncover
The other me beneath my veneer

No, I want to meet life stride for stride
And live as if time was not on my side
Once I was lost, but now I’m set free
I want each day to say thank-you, God
From the one and only me


© Janet Martin

A Thank You Card~





Just in case we never
Get a chance to meet again
Though we have not
Met face to face
But heart to heart
Through Poem stirred
I’d like to thank you
For this friendship
Wrought by naught but pen
And for the blessing
Of your presence
On this porch of word

© Janet Martin

A little thank-you card from me to you,
Whether newcomer or old-timer ;-)~

No, I'm not quitting. Just thanking:)

I've Come To Listen to The Music...Because I've Come To Know





Sun slips behind a veil that soon will bind the ties of dusk
The here to there-ness of a day hastens; ahoy, ahoy
The way of clocks is far too seasoned with years to adjust
The tempo of its metronome to linger over joy
…to linger over little lads bent on becoming men
To pause upon an afternoon of Now before the Then
For Then tugs ‘woman’ over little girls of half-past three
And there is nothing left but echoes where she used to be

Day drips with notes of lute and flute-like mellow melodies
Each composition settles in the kettle pouring tea
Then thought unlocks the entrance to those heart-held galleries
Where every print is kissed with Romance of What Used to Be
…of When before Then stole The Common Whole of It away
And folded it among the mementos of yesterday
Ah, thus we cannot quite afford to linger for too long
To listen while the afternoon composes a new song

Time sips its due through me and you and all our fellow-kin
The mind and heart are often torn between what is and was
Where what will be seems far too eager to unveil its skin
And render its fulfillment while dusk tenders its applause
…applause for what has passed and never doth repeats bequeath
As Was consumes the Is ever as surely as we breathe
And all that we can do to combat time’s age-old chagrin
Is make the very best of every moment we are in

© Janet Martin



Some afternoons after my 'tiny charges' have returned to their mommies and daddies 
I like to unwind with a hot-poured Something...
Today I felt like writing and listening to Bach to unwind.
This inspired Victoria to play the piano so I turn off Bach
because I've come to know how all too soon these piano-players
slip off their benches and disappear into the melody of life!
I'm not trying to be morbid...
simply aware of the preciousness of common-clad moments!

Futility's Fete




Cool! said the little guy I babysit, gazing longingly at the rubble-heap that a few days ago was a tree...
(I did not share his sentiment;-)
... but it is futile to stand and long for what no longer is~

Futile to gaze at a glazed skyline where
Days once-upon-us are no longer there

Futile to hunger for crumbs blown away
God spreads time’s table with a feast called Today

Futile to try to pry Past's soldered door
No one can gather spent waves from the shore

Darling, the future will soon fill farewell
Futile to linger where Yesterday fell

© Janet Martin

Strumming the Harpstrings of Heaven from Earth...





Slowly the night dies and dissolves from sight
Holy, the heavens reply with daylight
Lowly, we shoulder the tools for the fight
Knowing we know not what waits to unfold
Darling, the way to the grave is a thorn
Sparkling with rose from the bud of the morn
Carving from naught that for which we are born
Future to present to Past’s heart-shaped mold

Gently the dark takes its leave star by star
Deftly the day breaks on earth’s eastward bar
Grant us, Lord; grant us the will for its war
Subtle, the battles of heart, soul and mind
Gently the fingers of time strum the spheres
Deftly our inhale, exhale becomes years
Grant us, Lord grant us the strength for its tears
Strewed in the wake of daybreaks left behind

Once more the door to faith’s freeway flings wide
Over the indigo-kissed countryside
Over the clover and nettle-toned tide
Wafts the extension of grace-granted scrim
Softly the loft of our oft-dreamy stares
Offers new backdrops to old-fashioned prayers
Grafting their courtship to daily affairs
Where moments meter in stairs back to Him

© Janet Martin