Monday, April 30, 2018

Certain Call of Curtain Fall

PAD Challenge day 30 from Robert: Here we are again: the end of another challenge. Thank you so much for showing up and poeming along with me. It’s always a great deal of fun.
For today’s prompt, write a closing time poem. Or another way of coming at this prompt is to write a poem in which something is coming to an end–like this month’s poetry challenge. Could be the end of a concert, an era, or whatever else must come to a close.

Wow, what a lot of sudden reminders this community has suffered recently... 
of the Uncertainty of Tomorrow! 
and these on the heels of Humboldt Broncos tragedy!

Are you ready today if tomorrow never comes, to meet the Lord?
If not, the Gospel Plowboys explain what needs to happen while there is still time! 
(these guys remind me of singing with my sisters in a new empty silo
or playing the harmonica in an empty grain bin;)
"We are all one heartbeat away from eternity, is what it (this life) amounts to..."
The Gospel Plow-boys




This fevered flight of morn to night
No one can harness tight or hold
Tick-tock’s voracious appetite
Deftly turns everybody old
Unless the curtain falls and calls
Before that ‘Three-score-years and ten
When those we touch and love so much
We cannot touch on earth again

Dusk’s swansong swells and spills to hill
And dell in farewell’s deeper hue
The heart is oft soft-torn between
Green-gold greeting and blue adieu
Where we dash through the door of dawn
Held light and lustrously ajar
Then turn to find the west pinioned
With twilight’s silver Evening Star

Aha, the law of wake and sleep
Keeps dancers on their tippy-toes
A serenade of jade and bronze
And bud burst into ruby rose
Before the subtle roar of seasons
Scores this fragile robe of skin
With tributes of Time’s testament
That death of day-to-day will win

The cry that fills the eye with tears
And hearts with bitter-sweetest ache
Is subject to far more than years
As love pioneers give-and-take
Where farewell is the flipside to
Life’s tide, rife with happy hellos
And where a door swings wide with New
The old must first come to a close

Thank God, earth’s blue-dot does not dangle
Hap hazardously in space
Where fear would surely strangle hope
Without assurance of His grace
For all who believe will receive
Life after Death’s Cold Servant calls
But, none behold That Great Untold
Until Time’s flimsy Curtain falls

© Janet Martin

 The days of our years are threescore years and ten;
and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow;
for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
Who knoweth the power of thine anger?
even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath.
So teach us to number our days,
that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
Psalm 90:10-12


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