Showing posts with label April. Show all posts
Showing posts with label April. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 19, 2023

I Love a Life of Simple Joys or April Awe

 One of my favorite spring-highlights is unfolding...maple tree buds





I love a life of simple joys
Cup o’ chamomile tea
Laughter of April afternoon
Trickling through lace-graced tree
The tender tug of budded lures
Soft wafting overhead
Starred dark where dreams embark before
We are asleep in bed

I love the color of surprise
The violet stars that fall
To dapple dells and spark swells of
Sheer wonder-of-it-all
The innocence of child and pup
The flower-bowl of earth
Crowned with the perfect hue of blue
The merriment of mirth

Roused by the way the day begins
As heaven overflows
And mercy brims into hymns of
Coral, purple and rose
And as if this was not enough
Bird song that rings and rings
And rouses from awe-humbled hearts
Joy for life’s simple things

I love the way spring makes us glad
From our head to our toes
Like a firm handshake that can make
Us smile in spite of woes
The way that April woos the land
With kisses fit for kings
And wakens us to worlds unfurled
With wealth of simple things

I love a life of simple joys
Dimple in chubby cheek
Of baby boy or girl, a curl
To tease, a chin to tweak
A little plot to teach a tot
Who makes the garden grow
And how the seeds we plant can't hide
And we reap what we sow

I love the way a warm hello
Makes worth the farewell tear
How grief is the brute fruit of love
Yet oh, so very dear
If I could ask for anything
T'would not be stuff or toys
But just a humble plea to see  
Life, rife with simple joys

© Janet Martin

I love a life of simple joys
Dimple in chubby cheek
Of baby boy or girl, a curl
To tease, a chin to tweak...





Thursday, April 28, 2022

A Spring Song



This morning's sunbeams
after yesterday's snowfall


sets spring songs a-ringing!
(in bird and bard!)



The sparkle of frost-brickle
The finch in golden plume
*(or the finch-tree in full plume)
The twinkle in Father Time’s grin
As earth trembles with bloom

Good morning’s hearty handshake
The sky, a big blue bowl
Tipped upside down to grandly crown
The laughter of the soul

The giggle of the garden
The robin’s tiralee
Green sheen unfurled across a world
Wild with expectancy

Where we attuned to anthems
Not written in a book
Join in the hymn of throbbing limb
And chuckle of the brook

How long we wished and waited
For daffodils to glow
For violet stars to deck the bars
Long kissed with flecks of snow

Come, let’s dance on the tarmac
No longer brown and gray
And celebrate the welkin gate
Where winter lost its way (hopefully)😑

© Janet Martin

The sparkle of frost-brickle...



*The finch-tree in full plume/bloom



Good morning’s hearty handshake
The sky, a big blue bowl
Tipped upside down to grandly crown
The laughter of the soul...


How long we wished and waited
For daffodils to glow
...in the words from my two-yr.-old little gal in my childcare-
'I saw dappydils!'

For violet stars to deck the bars
Long kissed with flecks of snow...


The giggle of the garden
The robin’s tiralee
Green sheen unfurled across a world
Wild with expectancy...



Monday, April 25, 2022

Earth Always Responds...(to the tender touch of Father Time)


Song of Solomon 2: 10-13 (BSB)

My beloved calls to me,
“Arise, my darling.
Come away with me, my beautiful one.
For now the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers have appeared in the countryside;
the season of singingc has come,
and the cooing of turtledoves
is heard in our land.
The fig tree ripens its figs;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come away, my darling;
come away with me, my beautiful one.”


Earth starts to shed its dormant hues, where nature’s gaberdine
Of brown and gray is woven through with threads of verdant green...


Upon a loom we cannot see we sense its shuttles hum
To trim the limb of barren tree with hints of more to come...


Earth starts to shed its dormant hues, where nature’s gaberdine
Of brown and gray is woven through with threads of verdant green
Upon a loom we cannot see we sense its shuttles hum
To trim the limb of barren tree with hints of more to come

Soon still bedraggled sweeps will beam, where warmer winds caress
Earth’s weathered countenance will gleam with Mercy’s promises
The canvas where spent generations toiled and tilled remains
(We too must bear the castigation Adam’s curse sustains)

How often we begin to think that springtime is amiss
Only to be rebuffed with pink petal-confetti’s kiss
Only to be awestruck anew by ways we cannot change
On an established avenue that none can rearrange

The Maker of heaven and earth keeps every vow He makes
He tunes time’s tethered tide where birth and death’s season-surf breaks
Across the rise and fall of hill and dell His fervor spills
Merlot bud-beakers pulse and swell with favor He instills

Annual metamorphoses-es always steal the show
An unplumbed vault of happiness-es bound to overflow
Where vistas, still silence-immersed in April’s spartan scrim
Are like an orchestra about to burst into full hymn

Earth always responds to the tender touch of Father Time
She blushes as a rush of splendor rises to her clime
As monotones of brown and gray give way to green and gold
And color-worlds about to play May’s wonders to behold

© Janet Martin

Annual metamorphoses-es always steal the show...


An unplumbed vault of happiness-es bound to overflow...





Friday, April 22, 2022

I Love April After The Snow...








I love April, after the snow when the cusp of creation gleams
With winter’s sepia afterglow off-set by heav’n’s cerulean streams

I love its days, One-of-a-kind, when April like a clean-scrubbed lad
Shivers in a ruffian wind with no towel, waiting to be clad

I love the way sun-rays uncurl quadrillion clenched fists of bud-looms
Before its affections unfurl a gorgeous wonder-world of blooms

I love its sense of imminence; the calm before the blossom storm
The poise of earth’s pure innocence before green grandeur clothes its form

I love the fleecy clouds, like lambs romping upon a sapphire hill
The way its rainy days drench lands with promises God will fulfill

I love the stage before the show, of expectation’s eager eyes
I love April after the snow before creation’s curtain-rise

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, April 12, 2022

April Aria


Thy fronds that spill in daffodil...

Last year the daffodils were in full bloom...

this year's much cooler April has mustered a few brave shoots


thy ponds, a turquoise jewel


Ah, let me count the ways I love thee, April afternoon
Thy undulating clouds above me, earth's bestirring boon...

(Sunday afternoon showcased a strange ring around the sun)




Ah, let me count the ways I love thee, April afternoon
Thy undulating clouds above me, earth's bestirring boon
Where bulb and bud and muddy garden fuel flower-dreams
With autographs of winter's pardon bursting at thy seams

Goldfinch, a dapper fellow in his new yellow physique 
Thy warmer windsong tuning willow-cellos by the creek
And laughter, glorious laughter after winter wends away 
Ripples to heaven's rafter with a happy hip-hooray

Thy blue and bronze, thy timid green, thy moody ebb and flow
Like love, when it is torn between holding and letting go 
Like life, where though sunshine is sweet a little rain must fall
Like ten-thousand tap-dancer's feet at earth's coming-out ball 

Thy newborn lamb, thy cooing dove, thy wooing wink and grin 
Ah, let me count the ways I love the way you kiss my skin
And let me leave my sweater on the chair beside my book
While you and I together wander by the winding brook 

...to look for mint and marigold emerging in the silt 
To watch Mother Nature unfold earth's blanket like a quilt
To listen to the swishing of her brisk and busy broom
Teasing the people fishing beneath thy leaf-threaded loom

Ah, let me count the ways that thrill; thy temp'ramental duel  
Thy fronds that spill in daffodil, thy ponds, a turquoise jewel
Thy orchestras that trill and fill dawn's dark with joy renewed
The way you stay the course until winter's chill is subdued
 
Thy sense of baited breath before the curtain-rise; the cheers
That thunder where we waited; from death's guise life reappears 
Thy mission undeterred by Old Man Winter's farewell flings
I love the way the heart is stirred; hope sings and sings and sings 

   © Janet Martin



Wednesday, April 28, 2021

Memory-Matrix

 A bit of today's moment-glitter snared as it sparkled by...

'Of Little Girls'


....and raindrop pearls


...and birdie's tweet-tweet-tweet...




Memories are 
precious keepsakes
waiting to be cast
And moments are 
like golden glitter 
pouring to the past
While we are tasting 
tears and laughter, 
while a season spills
Into an ever-after rafter, 
memory’s matrix fills
…with sweet and spicy, 
tart and bitter,
 thorny stem and rose
A motley mix 
is memory glitter,
 shaping mementos
With glints of springtime 
seed we scatter; 
tints of fall fruit felled
We smile while welkin- 
whispers shatter 
what we briefly held
A merry-making, 
heart-string aching 
undertaking, oh
A hush-a-bye, 
then my-oh-my 
how far-too-fast you grow
Then make the most 
of what soon decks 
the halls of yesterdays
For memory-glitter 
falls like snow 
on begging, gaping graves 
 April is 
nature’s harbinger 
to summer’s bloom parade
Of petaled fireworks;
 buds flower, 
dazzle, fizzle, fade
Where pretty violet 
starlight stipples 
green’s first vivid hues
Where woodlands burst 
with feather-frescos
 etched on 
boundless blues
…where we look up 
to catch the colors 
from a cup that tips
gossamer glitter 
sparkling through our 
eager arms and lips
Into a mold 
that holds the marbled mist 
of days gone by
Unfolding precious keepsakes 
in the twinkle of an eye
…as we become 
the curator 
of Time’s collected toll
Where memories 
fill galleries 
that only thought can stroll
Reminding us 
not to get lost
 too long in what is spent
Lest precious moment-glitter 
gilds sad sighs 
of discontent
For April always 
turns to May, 
then May to June-July
Time never takes 
a holiday 
as hours hasten by
A fount that overflows 
with farewell’s font, 
it's melodies
The glitter that 
is turning moments 
into memories
Of little girls 
and raindrop pearls 
and birdie's tweet-tweet-tweet
Of Happiness 
in lunchtime messes,
 pudgy baby feet
Of work and play 
and hope and praying  
'if the Lord so wills'
We're making precious memories 
as moment glitter spills

© Janet Martin


Second line-split option-

Memories are precious keepsakes waiting to be cast
And moments are like golden glitter pouring to the past
While we are tasting tears and laughter, while a season spills
Into an ever-after rafter, memory’s matrix fills

…with sweet and spicy, tart and bitter, thorny stem and rose
A motley mix is memory glitter, shaping mementos
With glints of springtime seed we scatter; tints of fall fruit felled
We smile while welkin whisper shatters what we briefly held

A merry-making, heart-string aching undertaking, oh
A hush-a-bye, then my-oh-my how far-too-fast you grow
Then make the most of what soon decks the halls of yesterdays
For memory-glitter falls like snow on begging, gaping graves

April is nature’s harbinger to summer’s bloom parade
Of petaled fireworks; buds flower, dazzle, fizzle, fade
Where pretty violet starlight stipples green’s first vivid hues
Where woodlands burst with feather-frescos etched on boundless blues

…where we look up to catch the colors from a cup that tips
Gossamer glitter sparkling through our eager arms and lips
Into a mold that holds the marbled mist of days gone by
Unfolding precious keepsakes in the twinkle of an eye

…as we become the curator of Time’s collected toll
Where memories fill galleries that only thought can stroll
Reminding us not to get lost too long in what is spent
Lest precious moment-glitter gilds sad sighs of discontent

For April always turns to May, then May to June-July
Time never takes a holiday as hours hasten by
A fount that overflows farewell’s momentous font with ease
The glitter that is turning moments into memories

Of little girls and raindrop pearls and birdie's tweet-tweet-tweet
Of Happiness in lunchtime messes, pudgy baby feet
Of work and play and hope and praying 'if the Lord so wills'
We're making precious memories as moment glitter spills

© Janet Martin

Monday, April 19, 2021

Cloud-sheep Shepherdess

 PAD Challenge day 19For today's prompt, write a poem with an animal in the title.


Through welkin mead spring's shepherdess
Wanders blue, flock-strewn hills
She plays Her flute with keen finesse
Where sun-sweet zephyr spills

To woodlands primed with pulsing bud
April's cantata falls
It teases flowers from the mud
To deck dull, barren halls

And from her perch beyond the scope
Of earth's four-season isle
We hear her happy hymns of hope
We sense Her friendly smile

Her sunny-honey-colored tress
Gleams like a diadem
The cloud-sheep love their Shepherdess
She loves each one of them

We kick off shoes to dance footloose
Beneath  flock-dappled glade
While tree-tops throb with soft chartreuse
'Neath April's serenade

Janet Martin



Song of Solomon 2:14

...let me see your face,

let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet,

and your countenance is lovely.


  

Thursday, April 15, 2021

April Glory Story

PAD Challenge day 15: For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Story," 
replace the blank with a word or phrase, 
make the new phrase the title of your poem, 
and then, write your poem.

Enjoying a taste of early spring in Ontario!





April...

Once upon a time she was
akin to distant stars
while snowflakes swirled
and winter hurled 
its venom from yon bars
to howl at doors
and tap on windows
shuttered to the cold
that now, in warmth 
of April charm
melts into green and gold

Janet Martin

p.s. today however, Old Man Winter
is doing his best to change the title to 
April Hoary-Story 



Monday, April 12, 2021

An April 11th Poem

(Better late than never)
Started this poem early yesterday before other loves prevailed💗

PAD Challenge day 11: For today's prompt, write a prime number poem.
Thank-you Robert Lee Brewer for this helpful paragraph😉
"And if you need help with remembering which numbers are prime numbers,
 I've got you covered (here's a list of prime numbers up to 100: 
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97)."

Got a picture of these beauties while on a bicycle ride yesterday afternoon...




Eleven days in
to the month that begins
earth's em'rald unveiling of valleys and hills
of stealing our breath
with sweet petal-pleth-
-ora of tulips and daffodils 

Eleven days in 
to bud-quickening
giddy with green in innumerable shades
as carol of bird
and dust being stirred
spark's wander-must's lustiest promenades 

Eleven days in
to nature's broadest grin
as rolling vistas and woodlands unfold
 from humming looms
rush hour of blooms
welling with springtime's wonder to behold 

Janet Martin



Friday, April 24, 2020

So It Begins...


 Planting season has begun...


So it begins
The fallow grins
And lures the farmer to commence
Amidst the dust
He puts his trust
Of seed-sized faith in Providence

So it begins
The woodland spins
A diadem of emerald lace
Nature is stirred
With bud and bird
And anthems of amazing grace

So it begins
The barrier thins
Between the dreamer and the dream
As winter yields
To wakened fields
And babble from the meadow-stream

© Janet Martin

and why is this so exciting?!
Because a few days ago this!
 of course, 
an hour later this,
because winter's wild bluster is no match 
for spring's sweet kiss😎



One April Afternoon




'It's certainly nothing to write home about',
some would say of One Gray April Afternoon
Still, the sense of Something sparks a sacredness in tasks


like defrosting the freezer and counting what is left  
of last year's garden as we plan for planting and preserving...


...and baby herbs are transplanted to give them toddling-space

...and from old belongings new life by simple rearranging
(nothing like a photo to reveal balance/purge flaws😀)

It certainly would seem like nothing much to write about
but...

It falls before my wondering eyes as soft as stars of snow
Then melts before its touch is dry to days of long ago
And all that stays after it plays One April Afternoon
Are echoes of a melody that somehow lost its tune

It wades through worlds of still-furled gardens filled with will-be-flow’rs
A sparkle, nondescript in a quick scale of heady hours
And I have nothing left to show for its fine happiness
But a heart-cup that overflows with home-sweet thankfulness

It breeds a sense of Something no words can encapsulate
Like fires that leave nothing but cold ash on darkened grate
Yet in a corner of the grand scheme of time’s ardent stride
It snares a bit-‘o-ballad to keep somewhere deep inside

It plays a masterpiece like Fur Elise on keys of thought
It steals my breath, the way life's day-to-day can slip to naught
And all that stays after it plays One April Afternoon
Is the sense of promenade in an empty ballroom

© Janet Martin

p.s. I have not forgotten about what's-for-supper-Thursday posts
but sometimes I do forget in the moment, to take photos!
last night we had leftover beef-stew, dill pickles, crackers
and the last of a precious brick of cheese!
One ' hungry customer' remarked that they wonder if anyone else in the world
has beef-stew as often as we do!
Not that I'm complaining. It's really good!
 this person quickly added to save himself from
an invitation to cook! 😆