Monday, May 2, 2016


May lends lovely reasons
To sing songs of praise
Wringing from time’s seasons
Nature’s greenest days

May is like a flower
Garden in a bud
Born of April’s shower
And meadows of mud

May is a grand belfry
From it laughter tolls
Children prancing freely
Like spring’s newborn foals

May rolls, soft and airy
Like a tumbleweed
‘cross an azure prairie
Spilling blossom-seed

May is like a poem
Sun-spun lilt and rhyme
Troubadour exalting
Nature’s greenest time

© Janet Martin

All But The Precious Now

My, we are pressed for time, a constant climb
Always from where we were to where we are
The rubric of its tick-tock pantomime
Drains eons into Bygone’s phantom bar
Where, where we are is quite enough, it seems
To keep us pressed for time, the breath of years
A canopy of quandary and dreams
Pressed to a page of day that disappears
Into a season-salted tide; we sail
Pressed hard by time and its transient travail

Heave-ho and off we go, dawn drains night’s deep
A sea of opportunity expands
And envelopes dreamlands still half-asleep
With what time presses into ancient sands
The Very Thing that Is and none can stay
Like leaf that breaks the bud that cannot bind
The Ordinance of nature’s seamless sway
A little bloom soon scattered where the grind
Of what remains tramples beneath its feet
All but the echo of love’s bitter-sweet

Subtle, time’s meeting-greeting silhouette
Presses to hour-passage the design
Of that which we cannot quite picture yet
Like buds dangling unopened on a vine
Where, where we are unfolds to where we were
And a new where-we-are commands our stare
Time’s presses do not pause, winter-summer
A  kaleidoscope of hope and care
And prayer, for where we are, pressed by a wave
That leads us through the doorway of the grave

A penny for your thoughts, make it a dime
What do you think of this pink-blue applause
That wraps itself in gauze shimmers called Time
While, all the while turning our Is to Was?
Aha, aha, we say, then change our view
The green of youth jaded, a faded flow’r
And what we vowed we never would, we do
Because no one can override the pow’r
Where hour plays no favorites, its caress
A constant harvesting into Time’s press

Small graces fill faces with wonder, oh,
What is man that we are privy to this
Arrangement of moments that ebb and flow
Onward, forward toward what Was from Is
Hello, farewell, such sacred Tenderness
Addresses smile and tear; a quickened quaff
Of common firsts and lasts, they coalesce
Creating masterpieces we call Love
Where Time presses and winnows from our hold
All but the precious Now that soon runs cold

The climax on this countdown of life’s clock
Will stop us in our tracks; come, live, laugh, love
Enjoy the courtesy of ticks and tocks
That soon unlocks thought’s tender treasure trove
Of days gone by…a sigh on trembling lips
Where even Now we cannot long lament
The Constant of ephemeral fellowships
Lest we indulge the heart with discontent
For we, though pressed for and by time admit
We barely grasp the gifted gasp of it

© Janet Martin

Happy 18th Birthday, Matt!

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Love's To-do Lists...

 My life and Margaret's comment on the previous post inspired this poem:)
 photo later...can't find my coat I wore yesterday and it has my camera in its pocket:(

Praise the LORD. Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.
Ps. 106:1

Camera found in a coat hanging the rain, but it still works!
Happy May, by the way!

Duty untwists in to-do lists
No refuge from its stringent spoil
Save in night’s lay-me-down-to-sleep
To rest our hands and feet from toil

Hours untwist in to-do lists
Task sires task, its seems to me
Still, I do not care for escape
If my to-do is from-to Thee

…for love untwists in to-do lists
How humbly glad am I, full-blessed
To minister to need where need
Remembers me in its request

Thus, Lord above, with grateful love
I pray where life’s spiral untwists
That Thou wouldst grant wisdom and strength
For love’s laurel, life’s to-do lists

© Janet Martin

Ah, glorious Sunday, ah, blessed day of worship and rest!
Well, rest sort of…all I need to do is re-tidy the house, ice two birthday cakes, move some of Melissa’s things(from her move home yesterday) from the garage because the birthday bonfire might be rained out and perhaps a birthday BBQ instead, do a bit of taxiing, teach Sunday School…
Hence the inspiration for this poem. It is because we have people who love and need us and we love and need them whereby our (never-ending) to-do lists evolve.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Dead End Day-dreams or Living The Dream

PAD Challenge Day 30: last day:(
For today’s prompt, write a dead end poem.. Take the phrase “dead end” and apply it to a noun,.

 Quote from a book pictured below...

They fill my head with visions of far fairer days to come
When I am not so busy with debt-dictated demands 
But after contemplation Methinks dreams are but the sum
Of common hope, and love the fire that fuels life's dreamlands

We never dream of loneliness or days when we are frail
And far too old to climb the hill of wild-bloom haply flung
And I have learned through tears well-earned, how dear this moment-grail 'tis The Dream, not Destiny that keeps the spirit young

These are life's darling days, my dear, the dream, its serenade
We dance, not on yon cloud but on two feet if we are blessed
And I would like to dream, when day is done that we have made
A memory that we recall with tender happiness

Daydreams drive us toward an end we try to fantasize
Where shadow figurines, like strangers are kinder somehow
But circumstance alters the trance of Yonder-paradise
Thus we never secure the key to it because of Now

© Janet Martin


Friday, April 29, 2016

Ah, Fare Thee Well, Mademoiselle

Writer's Digest PAD Challenge day 29: (already!) For today’s prompt, write a haphazard poem. 

Her hair askew,
Missing a shoe,
Her dress in disrepair
And all around
On the green ground
Are hints that she was there.

Her plans half-made
She is way-laid
 By fairer next-of-kin
Who strolls amazed
On trails she blazed
On Mother Nature's skin

She will not see
The laden tree,
The garden flushed with bloom,
A pioneer
Her grin and tear
Threads Mother Nature's loom

...nor will she stroll
Where leaves cajole
A canopy of leaves
Or linger where
The dust-sweet air
Drips from dawn's tawny eaves

Ah, fare thee well,
We love thy April ways
They set the stage
And turn time's page
To May-June-July days

 Janet Martin

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Important Mind-matter

The measure of a little thought
Is more mighty than we may know
For by the mind the hand is taught
How sure a little thought will show

So if perchance we think perhaps
Our thought can dally harmlessly
We should remember, touch reacts
To what we think no one can see

This matter of the mind is not
A plot where seeds fall unaware
The measure of a little thought
Will soon reveal what we plant there

© Janet Martin

  PAD Challenge Day 28: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Important (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem.

 Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. 
Phil. 4:8