Sunday, August 26, 2012

Wayfaring Wanderer




Oh, wayfaring wanderer
Drifter unchained
No arm has withheld you
No hand has restrained
No shackle has bound you
No fence, rampart, wall
Has ever dissuaded
Or slowed you at all
There is no barrier
That you cannot scale
No ocean or heaven
That you cannot sail
You daredevil drifter
As free as the wind
But  far more precarious
For you are
A mind

© Janet Martin

Without a Word




When midnight’s sky is somber; bare
When summer’s good-by fills the air
When the limp shroud of yesterday
Drifts like a cloud, far and away
When the breeze dies and all is still
Save for the sighs as willows will
When scent of rain and memories
Drip from the raven-colored trees
And naught but cricket-song is heard
The silence speaks without a word


Janet~

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Unforceable Forces




One cannot force
Passion
Or a dream
Or love
But if we love
We dream
With passion

© Janet Martin


These Are The Days of Grass




These are the days of grass
We shall not pass
This way again
Time does not refund one hour
To loiter in the balmy bower
Of youth’s hungry, untried dreams
Nor dare, with boundless virgin power
The lust of it’s untested schemes
For Time, life’s ever-wizened teacher
Corrals our brazen scope
Offering us today for living
And for tomorrow,
Simply hope

© Janet Martin 

It seems these days if I need to know something
all I need to do is ask my kids...ah, sweet youth, the age of answers:)

Sapling




Young sapling, we must nourish thee
For someday thou wilt be a tree
And if thou wouldst bear worthy fruits
We must establish wholesome roots

If we provide soft sand for thee
Life’s storms will toss you to the sea
Lord, teach us how to nurture best
This tree, so it may stand life’s test

© Janet Martin

 Psalms 1: 1-3

Blessed is the one
    who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
    or sit in the company of mockers,  
 but whose delight is in the law of the Lord,
    and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
    which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
    whatever they do prospers.

A Moment's Worth



To pine or fret for what is not
Is simply wasting what we've got
A moment tarries, but a wink
Before it hastens o'er the brink
Into the intangible flow
Of history's mortal bliss or woe
The triumph of its centuries
Played out in moments such as these

Janet Martin

Here's to Summer




Gentle yet vivid
Waves of realization
Split the blue-gold tinted day
As summer drifts
Though umber limbs
Away, away

Fix me a Long Island iced tea
With an extra slice of lime
I sense an insidious mock in the breeze
It rattles the tinny wind-chime

Gentle, yet vivid
Autumn’s preludes
Tremble upon the tip
Of summer’s hour
Softly dwindling
In Time’s bravest grip

Fix me another Long Island iced tea
We’ll toast the summer-time
Thank-you waiter for making it three
Just in the nick of lime

Janet Martin~







Friday, August 24, 2012

Scarred Souvenirs




In a perfect world
One could return
To the unmarred and unscarred
For which we yearn
But this world is not perfect
Betrayal’s art
Brands its scars
Upon a heart

In a perfect world
We would forget
And never be haunted
By rage or regret
But this world is not perfect
Though we choose to forgive
Scars are reminders
As long as we live

In a perfect world
Love's souvenirs
Would not be tarnished
Or stained with tears
But this world is not perfect
So we learn to dance
In the arms of hope
And 'second chance'


Janet~