Monday, September 5, 2011

September's Brush


The raindrops splay their silver notes
Against the darkened pane
And on the night air softly floats
The scent of dusty lane
The cheek of child and apple-limb
Have donned a rosy blush
And far too soon the daylight dims
Beneath September’s brush

The tumbled pasture wakes at dawn
Beneath a frosty dew
Where August's blazing hours shone
For a brief dance or two
But now the walnut leaf is gold
As gnarled fingers crush
The moments slipping from my hold
Borne on September’s brush

The garden boasts its grand hurrah
In gold and orange and red
The grapes are heavy on the wall
As Summer bows its head
And we unto our Maker bow
Who guides the seasons thus
As August to September flows
Beneath time's eager brush

The lengthened evening sighs upon
The shadows long and gray
As twilight in a great blue yawn
Snuffs out another day
I lay upon the shoulder of
A fading summer’s hush
The shades are turning colder, love
Upon September’s brush

Janet Martin~

I’m caught in its bitter-sweetness tonight…
…of time and life.

Frankly, My Dear


Clark Gable’s infamous words flashed through my head
And I opened my mouth to say ‘frankly, my dear’,
But I couldn’t finish the words he said
As I turned away and wiped a tear
It simply wouldn’t and couldn't be true
Because, frankly my dear, I care about you

I care about the way the sunlight
Casts a shadow on your brow
I care about the lines that life
Has placed around your eyes somehow
I care about the way I see
The smiles fade from your lips
And how I feel beneath the hunger
Of your fingertips
I have not learned how to shield
Your longing from my eye
Or how to keep my thoughts of you
From reaching for your sigh
I care about how your voice trembles
With thoughts you cannot tell
I care about your little nothings
And hope they treat you well
I care about the miles between us
When you are not near
So all I can say in the still of the night
Is frankly, I love you, my dear

J~

"No"


Oft times it is in retrospect
I realize love’s gift,
I see the beauty of the day
Caught up as seasons shift
And easily I recognize
The glory of the Lord
Splayed out across the flaming skies
In songs without a word

I see in love’s endearing smile
Or in fingers entwined
Whispers of its pleasant mile
Intricately designed,
But I have learned a purer love
Unseen while teardrops flow
As He bestows love’s kindest proof
In one syllable, “no”

And while I flail and kick and scream
In blind determination,
Patiently His mercy streams
From Hands of all creation
As I resist His warm embrace
Still He does not let go
Though angry teardrops bathe my face
He simply repeats “no”

…and now in humble retrospect
Tears of a broken heart
Roll down my cheek as I look up
And cry ‘How great Thou art’,
Undeserving,oh I love
The One who loves me so
For He cared for me enough
To whisper softly “no”

Janet~

As a parent sometimes this is the most challenging
word to love with...no?

As a Child I have lived long enough to see its beauty.

Taken by Surprise...


Who knew…as I pause to look at you
What a four by six piece of paper can do,
Who knew the ocean could sweep through the sky
As I look deep into the gaze of your eye?
Who knew a heart could explode in a chest?
…yet in a synchronized instant reveal life’s very best!
Who knew that one tiny, little half-grin
Would push back life’s shadows and let the sun in?
The room is quiet, yet it seems I can hear
The rush of eternities past, in my ear
Who knew? As I stand here looking at you
What a small four by six photograph can do

Janet~

...looking at some old photos last night.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Poet


She stares at the empty canvas
Contemplating which colors to use
Her brush hovers impatiently; quiet
As she takes the time to choose
The shades that will accurately reflect
The mood of passion’s stirred
Her colors are consonants and vowels
Her painting…written word

J~

Friday, September 2, 2011

September's Cricket Song


Rolling from the gleaming hill
And from the hazy slope
Rising from the heavy field
A rippling kaleidoscope
From choirs hidden in the grass
A dedicated throng
Heralding the hours that pass
September’s cricket song

In winding lanes and weathered ditch
Their melody is stirred
And in the deep night solitude
Its chirping trill is heard
A serenade from dusk till dawn
And still the whole day long
Rising from the dew-pearled lawn
September’s cricket song

Its ceaseless cadence rises, falls
But never dies away
Yet still our eyes cannot behold
The stages where they play
They fill the sighing atmosphere
A tireless, hidden throng
To tell us summer’s end is near
…September’s cricket song



Janet~

I heard them in the wee still of night,
as soon as I opened my eyes this morning,
while I was washing up lunch dishes,
and now, after supper.
I think I’ll grab a coffee and go out
Where I can have a front row seat!

May my praise be to You, oh God,
as tireless as September's cricket song!





Thursday, September 1, 2011

September's Eve


You seem to me a philanderer of hours…
Wasting away the azure of noon,
I cannot dissuade your seductive powers
As you toss to the heavens a pale new moon
Snuffing out moments one flower at a time
Vexing this summer heart of mine

Without permission you toss your dark robe
Of rich and velvet blue
Across the cusp of tempered globe
With memories and dew
Paint the vast midnight with tears of the rose
We are the spectators of summer’s close

Smooth fingers reaching to softly enfold
Ditches of cattail and brush
Bloom-laden fields of burnished gold
Fade out in this premature hush
As you steal an hour out of the day
Hastening, hastening summer away

Janet~


When I returned from my run tonight I thought it must be later
than I am realizing it to be.
It was EARLIER!...only a little after 8:00 p.m. and almost dark!

Departure


The deep August sky parted
At midnight
Expelling its sorrow
In a deluge of September rain

Janet~

September is ushered in by one heck of a thunderstorm!!!

I am so glad my little campers are tucked in…downstairs.
(See poem below)