Wednesday, March 21, 2018

March Masterpiece In The Making...

In the last 24 hrs. March's Muse seems to be in overdrive!
...sometimes one simply needs to pause and poem it out!

March is a stage; an orchestra begins assemblage where
The air is teased with fingertips strumming winter’s postlude
While masterpiece arrangements cupped as yet beyond bold stare
Lure audiences gathering in spring’s amorous mood
…where branches burgeon with ecstatic melodies of green
 And earth trembles with expectation’s confidence of blooms
The violinist’s bow is gold, drawn soft across mauve sheen
Of mist-anointed morning-tide and zephyr-swaddled tombs

March hails to trails, woodlands, hills, fields; for these hold center stage
Where balladeers and troubadours cannot contain the lay
Withheld until the chill of winter turns a warmer page
Where springtime’s Maestro waits with baton poised while preludes play

March mingles moody montages with resurrected hopes
It harmonizes sunny skies with snows that linger late
While optimistic audiences fill south-facing slopes
Experience has taught them that the song is worth the wait

© Janet Martin

Looking for a nice backdrop to your March workaday routine?
Love this music and picture arrangement entitled "A Thought of Spring" by Tim Janis

Worthwhile Earth-while

Do you ever wonder when day dawns, what lies before you 
as you touch your feet down on the tarmac of time's runway?
 Aren't you thankful we don't know but can trust the One who does?!

Almost three years I posted the picture below on this post(click link to see details about the photo)
and find where to find the best tasting maple syrup in the world!

Two weeks ago while hubby was loading beef-cattle at his cousin Paul Martin's farm
Paul (man on the left) was thrown by a cattle-beast.
He has suffered a serious brain injury and is looking at a long hospital stay IF all goes well!
Please pray for this hubby/dad of a large family!
Please pray for healing and health for Paul,
for strength and peace for his wife Delphine and their family!
Paul would dearly love to be where he would be this time of year if he was healthy...
in the sugar bush 'shack' tending sap-boiling.
The middle man in the photo is my brother-in-law Dale!
 I'm sure they would appreciate your prayers as well as they forge ahead (between *hospital visits) in this busy Maple Syrup season without the help of one of their 'main men' ..
(*hospital is an hour away)

Each dark of night unravels to the travels of mankind
The threshold to a thoroughfare that none as yet have trod
Between the unforeseen and miles traversed, we, humankind
Touch down on holy ground that ultimately leads to God

We, prone to fix our eyes on prizes we can feel and touch
Groan where Hope is a lifeline in hardship’s calamities
For Hope is never seen; yet to its ether rope we clutch
While learning how to trust in what one knows; not what one sees

For we know God has promised, He never leaves us alone
All things work together for good to those who love the Lord
And though we do not know the layout of each stepping-stone
Or why; He does, who cups faith’s inconceivable reward

Not for our thought to decipher the what, why and wherefore
“Take up your cross and follow me” love’s ancient charge replies
Then when time’s dark glass is removed forever-evermore
And sight replaces faith, how worth the battle to the Prize

© Janet Martin

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, 
who have been called according to his purpose.

Rom.8:28 NIV

March Mosaic...

Sometimes my bones ache with unwritten poetry...until I let it loose

The hard grind of finding just the right text/tints to paint veiled glints into lines,
 leaves one gloriously vexed with the delightful call of...Next?!
March Mosaic was a spin-off from the poem March Music...
yet neither poem quite satisfies my March-poem appetite
where freedom of thought and ink comes with one big expense; Time!

Thatch patches blotch the lofty hill
That long stood poised, pristine and still
Where earth looks like a cottage roof
As March administers spring’s proof

The scraggly limb dons ruby gems
And pussy-willow diadems
Jack Frost must take his art elsewhere
As March kisses him to thin air

The berth that holds bloom-mirth from view
Is cracked where crocuses poke through
Soon hyacinth and daffodil
Will line earth’s sky-wide windowsill

…as nature’s boulevard runs rife
With glorious whispers of new life
Where buckets tacked to maple-trees
Gather taste-bud's sweet luxuries

And though the land looks bland and dead
Beneath its heath of weathered thread
A soundless splurge of colors teems
Where earth is bursting at the seams

…and dreamers bare their muffled necks
Stretch like fat cats on sun warmed decks
And answer to the dancer’s call
Where March makes minstrels of us all

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

March Music

Where seasons strum the countryside
We gladden at time’s turn of tide
When twilight waits an hour more
Before it executes its chore
Of dimming awnings overhead
And tucking drowsy day to bed
After we tread the dusky lane
Heady with spring daydreams again
Where buds wait to break woodland spells
And toll earth's soul with nature’s bells
While we wander its burnished sheen
Poised on the brink of pink and green
Of unbarred brooks and violet nooks
As March unveils sweet second looks
And graces places long denied
As springtime strums the countryside

© Janet Martin

Tower of Courage

There really are no words to fully capture the hurt of a sorrowing mother
aching for a child that is no more...
Other mothers hug her close
then return home to hug their beloved family closer... longer.

Loss...the flip-side of having held!

She bows where death has redefined
Love-sorrow-strength soft intertwined
And in her eyes the tender hurt
For one which lies beneath the dirt
Where none but God tallies her tears
That kiss the sod of yester-years

…she bows beneath yet holds the hand
Of He who helps her feet to stand
Where nothing can restore the dreams
That death has claimed too soon it seems
As through a power, not her own
She finds the courage to press on

© Janet Martin

(The word she in this poem can be changed to 'he')
this is not intended to undermine a father's sorrow
but, because I'm a mom I see through the eyes of a mother.