Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Wisteria, Blue Moons and other Loves



September's Song...Mantovani

It is not my intent
To shut you out
Blue moon of half-grin
As you drift to the south
Above silver bracken
And the rushing of time
Teasing the tendrils
Of wisteria vine

I would rather fling wide
The pane I shut tight
For the cricket choir
Is in top form tonight
Where the chill air keens
The lust in its swell
As I sense the presage
Of a season’s farewell

I long to draw you
Through this shield of glass
To keep you warm
As the fleet moments pass
But you must submit
To nature’s stringent pull
The hour will not quit
When its portion is full

…and I must surrender
To resist is vain
As I tug on the window
To keep out the pain
Of the cool night sweeping
Over time-swept plateau
And the throb of its weeping
In gossamer flow

© Janet Martin

Last night I felt like I should apologize as I was forced to close the windows to its beautiful CHILL!.



Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Pennsylvania-Dutch Love Poem




Vos is des ding as mich so fershtroyed
Uns macht mich so liecht-kebich
My gedanka sin fatsuttled; net oof dei orbiet
Un auft bin ich dobich un lobich
Von du neagsht fabigh mich laffsht
Udda von du tighte navich mich schlaffsht
Ich fraug fa nix mehna fuun dich
Yischt es du mich net falausht
Bis de Gott im Himmel ruft
un Err cummt fa dich uttah mich

Gealt kon net kauffa vos liebe em gebbt
Un meah sin net orm binannah
Shtoft is yischt shtoft; es harcht em net aub
Un es glebbet vee so alte kannah
Liebe hault em froh un frei
Gott hault uns naegsht debigh
Meah sin bessah oub vee de reichah
Von meah net fagessah
Fah Gott bedanka
Un anannah yischt immah gliechah

Translation…
What is this thing that scatters me so
And makes me so light-headed
My thoughts are scrambled; not on my work
And often I am clumsy and crazy
When you closely walk by me
Or sleep tightly beside me
I ask for nothing more from you
Just that you will not leave me
Until God in Heaven calls
And He comes for you or me

Money cannot buy what love gives
And we are not poor together
Stuff is just stuff; it will not listen
And it clatters like old tin cans
Love keeps us glad and free
God keeps us close to Him
We are better off than rich folk
If we do not forget
To give God thanks
And always just love each other

© Janet Martin

Love and the Wonder Thereof





Oh, gentle, purposed blindness, defying the laws of nature, who can completely know you? You, of un-tallied kindnesses demand nothing in return. Unburdened, you are by the cumbersome weight of grudges or by the binding law of duty, but spilling in glorious profusion upon humble vestures of dust; creatures of lust taught by heavenly tenure of things pure and above earthly reason, committing, not random acts of sacrifice, but Being Sacrifice. This is love’s sole language returning ten-thousand-fold its recompense of reward, not for the applause of men but in worship to the Lord.

© Janet Martin

Poeticbloomings is blooming its prompt a day early:) We are invited to try Prose Poetry.

More on this Thing called Love



...and so we love
A trial and error groping
of wondering, wanting
and hoping
...a beauty and brawn receiving
of having, holding
and believing

J~

Sonnet on Vexations of Love




Love probes the deepest recess of intent
It dis-annuls the foibles of the flesh
As hunger and humility enmesh
In poignant intricacies heaven-sent
Where all the laws of rigidness are bent
To adhere to its utter selflessness
Defying longing’s wretched emptiness
It fills the vexing void of discontent
Indwelling and outpouring synchronized
Mortality and Mystery ally
To sear, perplex, in passion undisguised
A joyous grief of wounds to satisfy
Love’s subliminal conquest recognized
By sanguine sorrow silvering the eye

***


Love; it denudes our vulnerability
And strips the barriers of self-defense
With nothing more than whispers, wild, intense
We dare to bear its stunning misery
In spite of what we can or cannot see
Willing to risk its ruthless recompense
Susceptible, our soul-blood we dispense
Forgiving shortfalls of humanity
Dismantling the bulwarks of the heart
We plunge into a volatile unknown
To taste its utterance, for no rampart
Can exile hope; love’s obscure stepping-stone
No common logic augments to outsmart
The need to feed on crumbs from heaven’s throne

***

We wrestle with the pain of pleasure’s kiss
And revel in its keen, incumbent grief
Thriving within its ruthless un-relief
As we return to drink its suffering bliss
For everything is nothing without this
Of our inmost yearning, love is chief
The anchor in emotion trite and brief
Its bittersweet, the air we reminisce
A filament of ecstasy and woe
Laughing, it weeps; tempestuous embrace
A tug-of-war in holding; letting go
The climax of insanity and grace
We let the tenure of its torment flow
In tears of joy and sorrow on our face

© Janet Martin

Hey...it's back-to-school day and mothers are NEVER too old to cry...
...so I'm going to cry if I want to:)

Love's overflow is tears








Monday, September 3, 2012

Rebel With a Hope...





A rebel by inborn nature
A servant by God’s tender grace
Employed by a Master-Savior
Who humbly took our place

As Perfection, Power and Glory
Put on meek flesh and blood
To write redemption’s story
In love’s pure, crimson flood

And now we, rebels by nature
Can be vanquished of our guilt
As mercy weeps on our behalf
In heaven’s Life-blood spilt

He signs our plea for pardon
With holy nail-scarred hand
As once for all, His offering
Fulfills redemption’s plan

Rebels we are by nature
Heirs we are, by grace
Because He sent His beloved Own
To die in our place

© Janet Martin

Hallelujah, what a Savior.



 Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation—Col. 1:21-22



Sunday, September 2, 2012

I Come Out Here to Listen...





I come out here to listen
To the sky-line lullaby
To hear its vesper glisten
On the deep end of good-by

The Maestro of this orchestra
The Hand that tunes its choir
Composes twilight’s masterpiece
In chords of holy fire

Above this troubled clod of dirt
With all its torn devotion
He calms our visages of hurt
With heaven’s flaming ocean

I come out here to listen
To love’s soulful solitude
As it melts upon the evening
In a tender-whelming flood

The bumps and scrapes of living
Are predictable and plain
But the overtures of heaven
Who can imitate its strain?

I come out here to listen
To His hallowed vespers swell
As I hear Him softly whisper,
It is well, it is well

© Janet Martin




Saturday, September 1, 2012

The Birth of a New Day





Morning melts its silver river
Over the cobblestone
Holy hush preceding the rush
Of life’s unknown

Daybreak spills its molten grail
To shaded bow’r
Grace flings her golden veil
Across the hour

Dawn tiptoes above the horizon
In yellow-gray
But as she reaches for the heavens
She fades away

© Janet Martin