Showing posts with label restless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label restless. Show all posts

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Writer to Her Muse





How can I forget you?
Ah love, each time I try
You vex me just beyond my reach
A phantom butterfly

How casually you slip
Twixt touch and guarded thought
Compelling me with luring lines
To revel in your jot

...so you and I thus dance
A sensual, soulful trip
As resistance and hunger jive
Twixt thought and finger-tip

...and if I beg you go
I feel like I might die
Yet if you stay I’ll ever chase
You; phantom butter-fly

Then you and I must find
A way to synchronize
You, half-rebelicious, kind
And me, your eager prize

I cannot forget you
Darling finagling rue
To chastise you within a poem
Is all that I can do

© Janet~

Friday, March 15, 2013

March Wind-song





Above the crypt of Time’s lament
The March wind moans in discontent
Its discourse fingering the limb
Of nature’s stricken diadem
Where soon its dormancy will swell
And fill the void of winter’s knell

Moments startle then pass, benign
Shaping the earth's horizon-line
To seasons where softly we brave
Its rendering, before our grave
Is decked with rose-and-wreath-caress
Tuning the March wind’s wantonness

The shroud of life’s unknowns evoke
Within the heart a tender cloak
Of courage, hope; for what are we
But whispers of mortality
Before we take our place among
The notes composing March wind’s song

© Janet Martin

Today its gray song wanders the gray landscape, threatening to spill in gray snow-tears.




Monday, April 4, 2011

The Cloud



I thought you were sweeping away the fringe
Of the weary and wind-tattered grass
I thought at last I could sense a tinge
Of warmth as I heard you pass
I thought, as I gazed on the sullen shield
Of winter’s weary palm
…as I gazed on the patient wood-lot and field
I thought that spring had come

I thought, you were kind as you looked upon
The weathered and bleak terrain
Of pastureland and silent lawn
Waiting to be green again
As I heard your breath, like a restless sigh
Moan across hill and hollow
I was sure, as I felt you hurry by
That spring was sure to follow…

I thought you agreed the time had come
For bitter feuds to cease
At last, at last you would succumb
To laughter, love and peace
But, as you drew across the sun
You simply shook your head
And told me spring would surely come
…but, my dear, not yet

Janet~

Yesterday as I was out running
I was sure we were on the edge
Of the next stage of spring…
…a few hours later I changed my mind!

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Cold Shoulder....


I have lost every trace of trembling delight
I see no grace in your fresh coat of white
Take your venom and your ghastly chill
Fly far beyond the pining hill
Oh, how I long for a dew-laden fling
And a dance on the lawn in the color of spring

I am repelled by your cold blue lips
I shiver at the touch of your finger-tips
There is ice in the chatter of the hurrying brook
The broken reeds scatter into each hollow nook
And I can’t help but long for just one thing
A kinder song in the color of spring

Even the wind is a restless fellow
Pleading, as I for a whisper of yellow
To melt the frost from the window-pane
And draw the buds from the limb again
He moans at my door in a low murmuring
For a warmer shore and the color of spring

Janet~

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Chance Meeting......



The wind tugs at the frozen landscape
Tonight he is moody and blue
Roving the hills with a restlessness
I know, for I feel it too
He leaves no trace of his passing
And yet in the remnant air
I hear the sigh he is voicing
As his fingers run through my hair

He roams with teasing madness
I reach for his finger-tips
He pulls me in with harsh kisses
There is ice upon his lips
Yet it is not I who is shaken
He falls like a wave to the sea
I feel his ire weaken
As he releases me

The scent of spruce and balsam
Now claims the thickening air
I must go, for dusk is falling
So I leave him trembling there
Then, lest he appears defeated
He sweeps from the darkening sky
But somehow he has lost his fury
I smile as he rushes by

Janet~

Monday, February 7, 2011

Wishing-wells...........


Years earlier it was I
Sitting on a blankets of dreams
Beneath a patterned sky
Whilst on the horizon gleams
The better day, the better day
Envisioned clarity
Beyond my present structured way
Its perfect form I see

Years earlier it was I
Gazing beyond the stars
Dreaming of when I would fly
Beyond my prison bars
Content in my discontent
Dreaming without a care
Before shadows of faded intent
Stretched to an empty chair

Years earlier it was I
Pressing against my skin
The silent wanderers cry
The invisible next of kin
Waiting to be embraced
Beyond the tall brown hedge
Where proper girls were raised
And starving dreams were fed

Years earlier it was I
Tossing pennies in the well
Where dreams were butterflies
And hope a blooming shell
No dead husks at her feet
Or tangled, brown tree roots
To line a silent street
Crowned with chimney flutes

I watch; she stands and stares
Through the frosty glass
I envision her unanswered prayers
In child-hood envy pass
She did not know I heard it
That restless little sigh
Yes, I know all about it
Years earlier it was I

Janet~

Friday, November 26, 2010

November Skies....


Beneath your drooping leaden eyes
The earth in gray surrender lies
Poised in cold expectancy
Knowing soon what is to be
The trickle of a frosty tear
Garnishes a fading year

The sapphire gaze of summer-past
Is dark and gray in eyes down-cast
The summer heart in empathy
Returns your sad melancholy
But oh, we know we will not cry
There’s beauty in this lullaby

A reckless wantonness ignites
Within your charcoal, smoldering sights
For what is to be must be….
You fling aside your misery
And shower on the earth below
Your tears in diamonds made of snow

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

We are ‘poised’ on the edge of a storm…….
The sky looks impatient……

Monday, September 6, 2010

Mortality


Today is my ‘sweetest sorrow’ day
When memories like priceless tokens
Are tucked away,
As I stand on the brink
Of tomorrow today
And new beginnings
It’s a sweet crazy roller-coaster
As the wind and the rain
Cater in tender empathy
To my pleasure and pain
Oh what a ride,
This memory train is
Taking a journey again…
As I stand here and think
Of tomorrow today
And more precious moments
Are stolen away
And small grows
A little bigger every day
And the face in the window
Begins turning away
To chase the dream
Of childhood and youth
While I begin
To believe a truth
That we deny
When we are young
As days drift by
Like new love song
But now forces me to stand
Face to face with reality
One life is but a grain of sand
On the shore of time’s vast sea
A year is a trickle, one tiny seed
Mortality is fickle and brief indeed

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

My apologies...but
Labor Day seems to be a day
of tender torment:)

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Vacation



I need a little vacation
A little time to play
And I don’t need an explanation
I’m going to play hooky today

The garden is a haven
I love the scent of soil
But I am tired of slavin’
In all it’s endless toil

I need a little breather
A little one on one
I love today’s kind of weather
In the grand old sun

Oh, I need a little vacation
Dust and dirty dishes
May be a house-wife’s heaven
But they can’t satisfy my wishes

I’ll be back in an hour
Or… make it two or three
The sun has mysterious power
When I’m in her company

All rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Friday, July 16, 2010

Fleeting Friend.....


You say, “I must go “
I say, “Won’t you stay?”
But your blue eyes say “no
I am going away”
You say, “Time is wasting”
I say “There’s tomorrow
Why are we hastening
Its troubles to borrow
For it is a hilltop
Beyond our reaching
Today is for love
And the lessons it’s teaching
Tomorrows worries are never-ending
But you are soon over
Yet I am befriending
The elusive lover
The fleeting drifter
But I love you, summer…
….I hear your laughter

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin


Watching a perfect summer day go laughing by
while marching to duty's command.......
such is life.......I guess I'll pretend
I'm working with my feet in the sand:):)

Friday, July 2, 2010

Observations.....



There is no extra-ordinary happiness
Beyond your existing perimeter of view
The extra-ordinary happiness lies within
…within your circle and within you

Beyond your circle forever stretches forth
It is as limitless as the deep blue sky
But to hope for happiness in its lap
Is to live as a wasted melancholy sigh

As the daylight flees in lengthened shadow
And the hills are bathed in a purple-blue mist
There lies the new of today with childhood
For better and new can only exist…..

….for a moment in your palm then it too is old
And the dream that rises on wobbly limb
As a new-born calf, soon rests in the fold
Victim of reality and prey of time

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Cravings......



I crave the new moon in the spring
The sullen midnight sky
The moaning breezes as they sing
A solemn lullaby
I crave the misty summer breath
Of one a.m. in June
The greenest greens which wrap the earth
Beneath a yellow moon
I crave the sparkle of the night
Upon the garden’s slumber
I crave the amber firelight
‘Neath stars to vast to number
I crave the red arm of the fall
The thickened sigh of longing
In maple carpets musty shawl
Spread out beneath its awning
I crave a midnight walk with you
Across the moon-lit meadows
I crave a silent, hill-side view
Enhanced by charcoal shadows
But in my cravings big or small
When all is done and said
Dawn comes quickly, spring or fall
So I must go to bed

All rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Monday, June 14, 2010

But I Must Go.........


I’m thankful for the dance we’ve had
And all the joys you’ve shown me
But I must go, please don’t be sad
For you can never own me
I’ll share with you a little while
The hillside where we wandered
Beneath a gentle azure smile
A blissful hour squandered

I’m thankful for each hand I’ve held
In summers pleasant journey
How sweet the blossoms that we smelled
Their memory tastes like honey
But I can never quite stand still
There’s too much life to hone me
None can be held against their will
So you can never own me

A vagabond, the poet’s heart
A restless lonesome drifter
He’ll share with you a little part
A smile, a bit of laughter
But then upon a winsome breeze
A call that he must answer
Thus the poet’s heart will be…….
A solitary dancer

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin