Showing posts with label echoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label echoes. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 15, 2023

Echo Snow

 




Treasuring these summer days
before they fall in echo-snow....

Composed of moments none can see or feel with hands and feet
Aftermath of Reality, surreal and bittersweet
A collection of frames unfurled in worlds of yesterday
Cast of cadence and colors swirled, where echoes go to play

How seamlessly one season slips into the next, and strews
Behind, ethereal eclipses that dawn-to-dusk accrues
As love both celebrates and grieves the double edge of joys
A hill stippled with harvest-sheaves; a room emptied of noise

How steadily the ooh and aah of highs and lows arrange
An Intangible Panorama of what none can change
The habits of time undeterred; happiness of hello
Soon farewell-teared/tiered and Bygone-blurred where echoes ebb and flow

How soon the blue-green scenery of June turns August gold
Summer’s subtle origami tunes echoes, fold on fold
A brutal bliss of hug and kiss, hold hinged to letting go
As compilations of What Is turns into echo-snow

© Janet Martin









Tuesday, August 3, 2021

Here We Are (where yester-eons echoes brim)


God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
Psalm 46:1

This morning we received word that
my sister's brother-in-law passed away (Murrell Martin)
after a battle with cancer!
This same sister and family are in the thick
of wedding preparations for their daughter's wedding on Friday.
Please remember this family (and Murrell's family) in your prayers.
God knew when this date was chosen for the wedding
what would transpire!
His timing is perfect in spite of our wondering whys!

(I helped for two summers on Murrell's farm in the early 80's
so yester-eon's echoes are brimming)
This is one of my favorite pics of a long-ago day.)


This song is running through my heart this morning



We never know when we will meet
The Hand the snuffs the chime
So lets make living's echoes sweet
While we are granted Time

***

Where yester-eon’s echoes brim
In scenes that tenderly compose
A sweet and sentimental hymn
As time its healing balm bestows

Where broken and beauty compete
Through joy and sorrow’s highs and lows
Love's acclamations, bittersweet
Mete metaphors of thorn and rose

Where faith and fear rival within
Where smiles and tears sparkle without
Where lament, laughter, groan and grin
Suffer conflicts twixt truth and doubt

Where morning breaks and twilight dims
And God wakes wonder mids’t life’s fuss
Where we are not worthy of Him
He bends and ministers to us

Where we would be a sorry lot
Death’s bell would toll with doleful knell
Without the Hope God’s Son begot
To save our deathless souls from hell

Where we are all in the same boat
In need of Light to pierce the dark
Because time is a transient Float
Where one by one we disembark

Where yester-eons echoes brim
And morrow offers no sneak-peek
A sweet and sentimental Hymn
Is being written as we speak

In scenes of tender reckoning
Like music notes of stone and star 
Where yester-eons echoes brim
Twixt past and future, here we are

With a fresh page, where humbly awed 
By Mercy's vow renewed, we sing
A hymn of grateful praise to God
Where yester-eons echoes brim

© Janet Martin

John 11:25-26
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. 
The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 
and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.
 Do you believe this?”

Murrel believed this! Hellelujah!

Monday, April 26, 2021

Echo-mementos

Blessed are those who mourn. 
Matt.5:4

(my daughter's friend's dad)
this community mourns the loss of a husband, dad, son, brother...
reminding us anew to cherish each other
because none of us are guaranteed tomorrow!



This making of mementos as momentous moments meld
Is quite an under-taking of things granted and withheld
Like clay upon the potter’s wheel or knife on whetting stone
We wear the stars and scars of love and living’s grin and groan
And often do not give much thought to what its grit bestows
Until our breath is stolen by sweet echo-mementos
And we are then compelled to look more closely at the sand
And all the color-sparkles of love’s moments in our hand

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Echo-graphs...

For young people everywhere
Don't Give Up!



No child can outgrow their mother's prayers...
I really pray for our young people right now
with everything shut down
school online etc. 
Many are bored, restless and lonely!
Today, as I watched one of my childcare tots 
totter across the yard all bundled up
it reminded me of a (sort of) long ago world 
that seemed so permanent at the time;
when our own children were little.
Now they are young men and women,
and all this isolation is very hard,
esp. for young men who tend to perhaps not have
as many indoor hobbies as girls might.
(esp. if they play sports)
Please pray for our young people, 
that they use this as an opportunity to grow in their faith
and to become upstanding examples of man and womanhood.
Moms and dads, I guess we need to set good examples first, right?

This poem formed in my head as I watched the tot with one eye
and the little girl trying to touch the sky with her toes
from the swing I was pushing, with the other!


Photo Echographs...

They scatter on December's yard 
Like tatters of an old postcard 
And decoupage a mother’s heart 
In a collage of mem’ry-art 

They waft like echoes on the air 
A soft impression of Somewhere 
Entangled in a mother’s sigh 
Those whisper-grins of days gone by 

They sparkle in fresh fallen snow 
Footfalls muffled by come and go 
To mirror in a mother’s tear 
Reflections of sweet yester-year 

They tug and hug and ebb and surge 
Where past, present and future merge 
To urge within a mother’s prayer 
A tender plea for daily care 

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, January 28, 2020

Nostalgic Nocturne


My blog is a bit of a poem-diary as years go by...
sometimes it's interesting to look back and see what I wrote on this date 
7 or 8 years ago...
in 2012 I  wrote

I still participated in more poet-communities back then, before my days grew shorter lol!
No, it's more like before I had to get to bed earlier in order to function the next day.
Sometimes I feel like I had more time to write back then...
(I didn't) but sometimes it just feels like it
... I guess the point I'm trying to make is that 
we can always only do what the day/season we are in allows.
The trick is seizing the opportunities as they come
and appreciating what each season in life offers (heart-tugs are love's bonus)




We cannot turn time back to when the days were freer, greener then
Or touch the place that seems so fine as we retrace its blurred design
And we cannot return to where we threw echoes into the air
Nor by the might of wish incite what drew away by day and night
Or by the charge of thought revoke the rules we broke, the words we spoke
Where what we leave behind still weaves
The scenes we’ll rewind on some far-off winter’s eve

© Janet Martin

Monday, January 1, 2018

Silver-white Postcard-night





The dark is blanched where full-moon light
Paints hill and dale all silver-white
As silent-silent falls the night
Like a still-life postcard
And dazzling on the listless lane
On boulevard and snow-starred main
Stirs something too hard to explain
Like echoes on a yard

Where once fair, carefree children ran
Strawberry lips and feet of tan
Before they wore woman or man
Encumbered with time's might
And standing where the day has gone
And stripped night naked to the bone
Save for Yore’s echoes falling on
A postcard silver-white

© Janet Martin

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Of Dried Ink Scrawls and Dust



 I'm a greeting-card 'keeper'. I think I get it from my mom.
She called the other day and shared a chuckle from a card I drew for her YEARS ago!

These cards come from a box of my Grandmother's cards.
She left us long ago, as did Uncle Klaus, but echoes linger...
(funny where looking through cards for a Sunday-school craft can take us:)


When we reach that portal
Where, what is left of us
Are echoes, still mortal
Of dried ink-scrawls and dust

When we’ve left behind us
Grind of laughter and tears
And slip to the silence
Of death and yester-years

What piece of our heart, love
Will remain as the proof
That once we were part of
Time’s multitudes of earth

And what, when we gather
Where all living things must
Will morrow’s world harbor
Of dried ink-scrawls and dust

© Janet Martin

In this generation of click-read-and-delete, 
what will remain of 'us'?
..what will they read? 
It reminds us to leave tangible 'whispers' doesn't it?

Got to hang out with one of my favorite 'little guys' last night:)

Friday, June 24, 2016

Of Time's Employ






The toil of life can wear us thin
Its strife can vex the bravest grin
It draws its laws across our skin
And no one is immune
The cares of life oppress this dust
The prayers of life address our trust
We bear love’s dares because we must
Both December and June

The wants of life, the taunts of life
The hi-way, bye-way, my-way strife
Is like a subtle carving knife
That whittles days with ease
The child into a woman, man
The mother, startled by the span
Of tick and tock does all she can
To make sweet memories

The dirt of it, the hurt of it
The run-walk-crawl, stand tall, ah, sit
In time’s grand scheme is but a flit
Before the by and by
The boy-oh-boy, the joy-oh-joy
The hidey-ho of dawn’s ahoy
Become the echoes we employ
When Twilight fills the sky

© Janet Martin

Monica is sharing some wonderful glimpses of her 'Time's employ' here.