Janet Mary Zylstra
Biography of Janet Mary Zylstra
Full time writer, poet and owner of a private refuge for
abandoned dogs. Spent ten years at sea, travelling obscure
parts of our world, but never quite made it to the Far East.
Janet Mary Zylstra's Works:
No single volume of my own, but have appeared in over 20
anthologies published by Forward Press imprints, also appearing under the name 'Janet Mary Turner' and 'Cyd Blake'. Different names for different genres. Have also been published by Writers' Forum and Faith for Daily Living
(South Africa) .
Janet Mary Zylstra Poems
There's a nightingale singing from a tree in the woods And his voice slices through the chilly air; The silver coated fox stops and listens to the song As she pokes her pretty nose out of her lair.
Christ In A Garden
Christ in a garden of roses - Where beauty meets beauty And Love meets the symbol of love;
Another place, another time When the world was not possessed by man And beast played but a minor part; Evolution had not yet begun.
Dreams - dreams - dreams Of faraway lands and faraway places, Strange, foreign names and strange, foreign faces; Dreams of the sea and dreams of the ocean
Cake Baking Day
Delicious smells come tiptoeing Around the oven door. They come creeping through the kitchen, Up the curtains, 'cross the floor.
Hawk On The Roof
Yesterday You were dangling from the sky Until the string snapped And you plunged beak first
Rivers Of Peace
Bring the rivers of Your peace, O Lord. Let them burst their banks and overflow, Flood the barren, desert lands Where nothing grows.
For everything there is an hour; Seasons come and seasons go. A moment for a rose to bloom, For the tide to ebb and then to flow.
The Little Things
Thank the Lord for the little things of life When you cuddle up in bed; For the places you've been and the things that you've seen And the thoughts inside your head.
Sculpted alabaster gulls on naked stones Shrug drooping wings while winter crazy weather Spits tear-salt rain into feather muted solitude And sailor haunted flaws flute to hungry seas.
I The winter night has tossed a shroud Across the hills and fields and vales And broods beneath its settling folds.
You are everywhere. Glowing in the rays of the sun of a brand new day; Sparkling in the dew on the grass and fresh mown hay. You are everywhere.
Little drops of water, Little drops of rain, Freshen up the wayside flowers And makes them breath again.
I thought to bring gold to my Maker So I piled it up in my hands, But I slipped on my way to the altar And the gold fell and mixed with the sand.
Winter In The Park
Between their chilly winter sheets
Of gentle mist and quiet rain,
The naked trees retire to sleep
Until Spring comes again.
And comforting those drowsing roots
With muddy socks wrapped right around,
Felt-soft green and grassy boots
Shield them from the frozen ground