Thursday, May 26, 2016

Gardening...or Life

It takes
And then,
The bloom!

© Janet Martin

Still A Pretty Nice Thing

“Though marriage takes everything you’ve got and almost breaks you,
All in all it’s still a pretty nice thing”,
This was hubby’s analysis as he watched our nephew
And soon-to-be bride smile as they counted down the days to this Saturday.

It’s a give-all-you’ve-got
Or we fall apart
It’s as much a matter of mind,
As of heart
It almost breaks us
That’s the truth
As it makes old people
Out of youth

It will tether your wallet
And weather your brow
It will turn those raven locks
To snow
It will exchange 'me'
For 'we' and 'us'
It will brush away years
Like a fleck of dust

It’s never quite
How we suppose
And everyone who has
Been there knows
It takes a lot more give
Than take
After the vows
And the wedding cake

…and the honey moon
Turns into life
A ‘Til death do us part
Husband and Wife’
While we laugh, weep, 
And rearrange
What once we thought we knew
Then change

…our minds because
Love’s grin and grit
Is never how
We picture it
Yet, in spite of
All it will bring
Marriage is still
A pretty nice thing

© Janet Martin

Next week, June 3rd, James (husband) and I celebrate 28 years of 'a pretty nice thing'.

More Than Mood of Men or Pen

The fickle moods of men and pen
Respond to eyes and fingertips
And who of us can quite depend
On sighs that cut across these lips
Which grin and pout and praise and doubt
Prone to the wayward whims of flesh
While season-tides rush in, ebb out
As future-present-past enmesh
And we become the way we are
By whom we choose to follow, oh,
Where Day that rolls from shore to shore
Is more than metered moment-flow
And we are more than skin and bone
Prone to its fickle mood and whim
These feet which graze each stepping-stone
From God, are leading back to Him

© Janet Martin

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Morning Is Like A Lovely Rose...

Morning is like a lovely rose
A bud upon a stem
Of Bygone happiness and woes
Waiting to bloom again

Morning is a like an orchestra
That spills from eons spent
A melody of humble awe
Anoints man’s discontent

Morning is like a coronet
Her Majesty, new day
Inaugurating what none yet
Have trampled with dismay

Morning is a like a smile from God
Mercy exceeds despair
And lays upon time’s strip of sod
His kind and faithful care

© Janet Martin

Breath of Days (AUBADE)

Poetic Bloomings blooms with the Aubade today 

Like a grand, golden trumpet the sun heralds break of day
Beneath heaven-set timing zephyr-violinists play
The birth of time’s fresh offspring fills the hills of earth with praise
As all creation sings a hymn to the Maestro of days

The table on the east lays out its feast of daily Bread
The poor and rich alike are at the mercy of time’s Head
The wise will recognize Love’s grace that grants the sacred ‘yes
That lights the day that lights the way that none have traveled yet

The crimson lily blushes and the brook in yonder mead
Like pink platinum ribbon binds the green bank to its thread
The woodland bursts with jubilee where feather-throated throng
Without a care gild dawn’s young air with nature’s purest song

How lovely is the hope that spills beyond the reach of earth
Save in the prayer that climbs the air that chimes with virgin birth
Ah, holy, holy, holy brims from lowly hearts of men
Where Hallelujah overflows time’s cup of woes again

© Janet Martin