Time Well Wasted

If you should come and walk with me
Or sit beneath the willow tree
This one thing I can guarantee
It will be time well-wasted

If we should watch the full moon climb
It’s cloudy slope in heaven’s time
And you would have your hand in mine
It would be time well wasted

And should you look at me like this
Or contemplate a tender kiss
Where simply being is pure bliss
It will be time well-wasted

Who would dare to count the hours?
I prefer to count the flowers
In this solitude of ours
And time well wasted

I will melt into your smile
Stop the clock a little while
I must say I like your style
Of time well wasted

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

If the Moon Could Talk....

If the moon could talk
What tales it could tell
Stories of youth and
Of old folk as well
He is the all
Encompassing eye
King of the night
In a velvet sky

If the moon could talk
He would write a best-seller
And folk would call him
A lucky feller
For there are no secrets
On his silver knee
No rendezvous
That he cannot see

If the moon could talk
Do you think he would tell
Of our midnight walk
Beneath his spell?
But the moon cannot talk
So no one will know
Save for the sassy
Breezes that blow

If the breeze could talk
What tales it would tell…..

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Blue Moon Lullaby

The blue wind moans in languid tones
Across the sleeping hills
Where once we danced and laughter glanced
Upon the wooded rills
The drooping flower which graced the hour
Before the lowering sky
Has shed its tear as we both hear
A blue moon lullaby

The feathered leaves of willow trees
Lay strewn like golden snow
And from the sky a distant sigh…
My dreams of long ago
The mournful song of old and young
Blend in the lone birds cry
For none can pass on yester’s grass
In a blue moon lullaby

The blue wind moans in languid tones
Its sonnet fills the air
It stirs the dust where soon I must
Relinquish every care
What is man, this briefest span
Of life before I die?
A bud that grows to a withered rose
In a blue moon lullaby

And thus the years like petal-tears
Lay scattered at my feet
Whilst distant gleams of faded dreams
Waft o’er my lone retreat
But then I hear a Voice so near
Breathe from the purple sky
I know tis He who speaks to me
In a blue moon lullaby

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

We had a ‘blue moon’ new Year’s Eve

Second Chances

That hint of a smile is a thin disguise
For the hungry blue sorrow that shines in her eyes
Reflections of haunting shadows cast
By riveting images from the past
As their anguish preys upon her mind
In vain attempts to leave them behind

Is insane regret an earthly hell?
Is there any power which can dispel
The mocking echo of sad defeat?
Is death a lone silent retreat?
Will demons dance upon her grave?
Will she remain a defeated slave?

Will anguish like a raging sea
Be her doom eternally?
Is there no balm or sweet relief
From the demons of her grief?
The moon drifts on in yonder sky
The evening breezes moan and sigh….

And somewhere in this tender hush
She pleads for the Hand of God to brush
The evil screams away, within
So she can hear His voice again…
The moon-light and breeze simply enhances
The answer from a God of second chances

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Now may the Lord of peace himself
give you peace at all times
and in every way. 2 Thess.3:16

My Perfect Christmas

It’s not the lights that twinkle
Or the snow-flakes as they swirl
It’s not the rippling laughter
Of each little boy and girl
It’s not the pretty ornaments
A-sparkling on the tree
This is not what makes
Christmas perfect for me

It’s not the lovely music
Or the chiming of the bells
It’s not the children singing
Though I love it very well
It’s not the cookies baking
Though they’re yummy as can be
No, this is not what makes
Christmas perfect for me

It’s not the silver moon light
Casting shadows on the snow
Reflecting on that first night
Of Christmas long ago
No these things are all
Just as lovely as can be
But it’s not what makes
Christmas perfect for me

It’s eyes that sparkle
With loves warm glow
It’s hands to hold
As we dash through the snow
It’s being surrounded
By loved ones so dear
Yes, that is what makes
Christmas perfect each year

It’s saying things like
“I love you, my dear”
That is what makes
Christmas perfect each year….
…all year long

All rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Only You

I didn’t see the red sun
Melt in ruby tones
Across the slumbering garden
Or the rosy cobble-stones
Its pure translucent fingers
Brushing every hill and vale
In soft pink, went unnoticed
As the moon, still white and pale

I didn’t hear the whisper
Of dusk in choral pines
Or the breezes as they murmur
And taunt the blushing vines
The rippling fields, though bathed
In softest crimson sheen
May as well have just remained
In mid-day evergreen

No, I didn’t see the earth transformed
Or feel its ruby breath
But I feel strong and loving arms
And I taste heaven on earth
My beloved is home at last
Oh, I see eyes of endless blue
Let the worlds around me pass
For I see only you

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin


Thinking of those who are anticipating
the home-coming of loved ones, for Christmas....
...also thinking of those who cannot see
there beloved ones this Christmas!

Hands of Time

To try and stop the hands of time
From showing on our face
Is as easy as trying to re-arrange
Or perhaps even erase
The clouds that drift in yonder sky
Or moon that stays its course
We may as well resolve to try
And thwart a tempest’s force

There is a time for everything
Beneath the blazing sun
A time to laugh, a time to sing
A time for being young
But as the grayer shades descend
Upon the young at heart
It’s foolishness that we pretend
Times power to outsmart

Is beauty just outward appeal?
A swift and passing thing
Nay, beauty is an inner zeal
A peace that age may bring
It is the tender touch of time
As we pass through its fire
True beauty is lovely, sublime
Which each one may acquire

To try and stop the hands of time
A vain and foolish quest
Like standing in a hurricane
And begging it to rest
Like wishing on an evening star
Or flying to the moon
We cannot stop its ceaseless march
Or change its solemn tune

So instead of sad lament
I pray we may embrace
With humble heart, in God content
Times ever-changing face
Tis but a short and fleeting breath
Our brief mortality
Beauty reigns in our death
In God’s eternity

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin


I won't bother going in to detail
about where this one came from......

......but I did hear about a guy who
was bemoaning the fact that his gorgeous
slim wife......well, wasn't as gorgeous and slim
as she used to be...before they were in their fifties...
I know her. She is VERY BEAUTIFUL!!!!! and her husband
would agree to that, I know!
How does that saying go????
Age is a great equalizer!

Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting,
but a woman who fears the Lord
is to be praised. Prov.31:30

I See You Every Day

I still see you every day
In pastures where we used to play
We roam the shady haunts of June
Or linger ‘neath the harvest moon
We dance in sunny fields of May
Oh, I still see you every day

The apples we plucked from the tree
Are sweeter still in memory
Our laughter, like a lazy breeze
Drifts through the phantom willow trees
Where in innocence we’d play
Oh, I still see you every day

As I stroll that misty trail
Where we walked a little while
I smile in tender reverie
Treasuring each memory
Beyond the present wind-tossed fray
I still see you every day

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin

Bitter are memories filled with regret...
but oh, the good ones are so sweet.

Do You Ever Think of Me? (lonely soldiers love-letter)

As the wind sighs over the garden
As it murmurs through the trees
As rain-drops dance upon your midnight
Or linger on the morning breeze
As the moon rises in splendor
O’er a calm and tranquil sea
In your memory as you wander
Do you ever think of me?

Is there a faintest dew of sorrow
Gleaming on the meadow green?
In the hills beyond the bustle
Do you hear the echoing
Of distant days and silent laughter
Midnight neath a harvest moon
Do you ever hear the whisper
Of a tender by-gone tune?

Do you, as you sit and ponder
Life, with all its twists and turns
Do you ever sit and wonder
Why it’s for the past we yearn?
As breezes sweep across the meadow
Stirring up a memory
In the dusky evening shadows
Do you ever think of me?

Will you wait for my returning?
Will you love me while I’m gone?
Will you promise to remember
All our moments in the sun?
As the dawn in all its splendor
Creeps above the garden wall
Darling, oh will you remember?
Do you think of me at all?

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin
09/11/09

August Hush

I feel her subtle presence
Stealing ‘cross the land
An intangible essence
Prelude to the Grand
It’s a dusty illusion
Asleep in the brush
But I sense her intrusion
In this August hush……

In the shimmering heat wave
A hazy afternoon
In the honey-suckle grave
Beneath a lazy moon
We know, though we can’t conceive it
The end of summer’s rush
But we will not believe it
In this August hush…….

The cricket and the locust
In a tireless symphony
Hail to the passing tourist
Nature’s melody
I pause for just a minute
In this interlude
Then I revel and glory in it
A summer subdued……

…..for try though I might
I cannot quell autumn’s brush
In this blest respite….
…in this August hush

All Rights Reserved Aug.27, 2009
Janet Martin

Tears in my eyes
Are sure to swell
As I whisper good-bye
To thee, summer, farewell