Tuesday, September 29, 2015

September-Swindler





You toss Her tress with wind-song
You strum Her air-borne spheres
You tug Her hug of lowered sky
And break it into tears

You dazzle noon with kisses
You frazzle frond and flow’r
And by the hill you fill the rill
With remnants of Her hour

You thrum in thought and yonder
Upon the blue-skimmed slope
You thrill eye-cups with wonder
They spill in renewed Hope

You frame the day with longings
Too sacred to be tamed
Reminding us that Some Things
Remain ever unnamed

…while trees turn leaves to lamplight
Shedding joy’s haloed grief
You wean Her from Time's orbit
Into each drifting leaf

© Janet Martin

...the speckles in the photo below are leaves from the walnut trees.

The Beautiful Blessing of Friends...





They help us to handle
Whatever life sends
A flesh-and-blood candle
We simply call Friends

How sad would be sorrow
How biting its tear
How dreary tomorrow
Without friends to cheer

They gladden Time’s ages
Peasants feel like kings
As friends smooth the pages
Of trouble life brings

Friends fill heart-shaped fountains
That swell with pure laughter
Friends ring out the joy-bells
Hung from Heaven's rafter

How harsh would be heartache
How colder the cold
If there was no handshake
Of friendship to hold

They keen with compassion
Whatever life sends
This beautiful blessing
We simply call Friends

© Janet Martin

Who’s that? asked the little guy I babysit, as I waved at a lady walking her dog. Oh, that’s my friend, I replied and found myself slowly cherishing the word ‘friend’ and how little the word of the largeness it holds.... We were in a nearby town to pick up some ingredients to make a birthday supper tonight for another friend.

   Friend is a small 
   word with a big
  heart 

Some friends we meet on a regular basis
Others are friends met through words, not faces
But no matter how or where we 'meetest'
Of all of life's blessings
friendship is sweetest .

Thank-you to all my friends who pause on this porch.
Blessings to you and yours.

 

Leaving September Behind...



September seems like a bit of a blur to me...sigh.
But a good sigh because the garden yielded bumper-crops resulting in
much summer preserved in jars waiting to be poured out
in purples, greens, reds and gold while
winter rages white and blue:)


While blue skies lolled over gold of mulled summer
And flowers unfolded their final hurrahs
Near fence-lines, swaddled in wild-grape vine ardor
September faded into The Thing That Was

While we laughed, gathering gifts from the garden
Drifting like busy bees from bloom to bloom
Hours harvested without pause or pardon
Present pinnacles to Past’s gossamer Tomb

While we were busy, near-dizzy with Duty
Learning the art of joy laced through with grief
Clocks gleaned the green sheen from hulled moment-beauty
Scattering summer in each petal and leaf

While, with honest glances we noticed tides shifting
While we pretended that we didn’t mind
Time strewed the yard with culled frigates soft-drifting
Leaving September and summer behind

© Janet Martin

Monday, September 28, 2015

This...a But By the Grace of God Matter





Across This Avenue where blue commands night’s ebbing surge
The Edict of Spent Ages and Sages in Training merge
And those who recognize This grapple with the undertow
Of what Eons have proven yet so many do not know
Because truth is distorted by the wily ways of Want
Resulting in Unconsciousness of Hades lawless taunt
As Right and Wrong are twisted; life a godless game of chance
Our children and their children doomed by Present Ignorance

Across This sweep of purple-misted centuries-deep dust
Religion and Discipleship spar; law argues with trust
And lust is oft mistaken for love; Love misunderstood
As many shun The Hand encrusted with Redemption-blood
Choosing upon This Way of No Escape that loathsome lie
And so His Name is uttered in the context of a curse
Instead of Awed Awareness of the love of God for us

This neighborhood of human flesh is doomed; we till death’s dross
Man’s dust-to-dust appointments riddle earth where all is loss
Save This; the Promise of Inheritance we will receive
But oh, This Present Generation find no pleasure in
Remembering the Creator who pardons every sin
Choosing instead The Convoluted Labyrinth of Sod
And dances with a Serpent rather than the love of God

This is the day the Lord has made, no mortal mind usurps
Omnipotent Authority; He rules Heaven and earth
Thus, all that we lay claim to on this Avenue of Laud
Is Rust Offspring and Temporal Lending to us from God
For naked we came to this world; naked we will desert
Only mankind’s Immortal Soul survives This House of Dirt
Where we would all be drunk with tears of fear, save for God’s grace
And this; A Present Ignorance pervading human race

© Janet Martin

a good song here...

 Inspired by this poem with a multitude of breath-stealing phrases...
After I wrote This I wished I would have attempted the rhyme-scheme of the poem
that inspired it but words and rhythms seem to have a will of their own as well:)

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Of Time's Waning Ways...



 God spreads for eyes, a feast, upon earth's banquet table...

The waning way of orchards dapples burnished branch with red
Its weans the slope of verdant sheen where summer banter rolled
Across the afternoon of bloom-buttoned vesture soft-shed
As hope adapts to days where autumn’s waning ways unfold

Dawn drapes landscapes with purple mist; it kindles green with gold
Future-present-to-past weds threads into Thought- woven art
Upon earth’s little ledge where sedge and hedge turn we behold
The waning way of seasons from the Poet of the heart

‘Be still and know that I am God’, the very lands bequeath
Submission where the ordinance of Providence spills seed
And on this holy ground we tread while overhead, beneath
The Hand that paints the waning ways of Time still fills its need

…and mankind’s mouth, while we look north to south or west to east
Drips with meek ‘my, oh, my’; we speak with tears upon the face
That in the waning ways of time God spreads for eyes, a feast
Upon earth's banquet table groaning with Amazing Grace

© Janet Martin

All the way to and from church this morning I found myself my-oh-mying over the beauty of the earth...