Pondering the Inevitable...

It must be so, the fall of fall

Succumbs to winter’s silver shawl

We brace ourselves for winnowing

Of zephyr-song, but then, comes spring

No winter yet, has not succumbed

To pirouettes of zephyr-song

Caught in the tempo of sun’s ray

The will of winter melts away

The summer-heart, though it may mourn

The fading art of autumn shorn

Knows winter is the wailing wing

That ever without fail, brings spring

And so, life’s must-be-so’s’ oft are

The path leading to gates ajar

Leading, not back to what has been

But ever onward to spring-green

A winter gale cannot deter

The winsome will of gossamer 

...of zephyr-song and buds that wait

To spill in spring beyond its gate

 © Janet Martin 

PAD Challenge day 30:  For today’s prompt, write an inevitable poem.

 A spoke to the farmer of this field today...he's hoping it will be harvested this week! There are many farmers hoping the snow will hold off for a while yet!

The Inevitable Death of an Oreo

 They didn't have a chance

I think the cookies knew

That a me-and-cookie romance

Can never end with two

 

  

They didn't have a chance

I think cookies can tell

That a me-and-cookie romance

Cannot end very well...(for them, that is;-)

 

Janet~

PAD Challenge day 30:For today’s prompt, write an inevitable poem. The poem that always had to be, or a poem about something that was inevitable.

Oh, Death

PAD Challenge day 30:For today’s prompt, write an inevitable poem. The poem that always had to be, or a poem about something that was inevitable.

He is a Marksman and does not miss

Then laugh your full laughter and kiss that soft kiss

Slow dance with moments, hold steady their gaze

'cause he's gonna get us one of these days

The blush of morning teases feet to the floor

Deftly adorning Time's street with its More

Grinning and weeping, the flash of a flower

Falls from his sheaf like the ash of an hour

He takes no vacation, and he never sleeps

...he only comes once to each one, but for keeps

None can decipher the names on each dart

Nor when his arrow will enter the heart

His is a presence both feared and revered

Time's breath-by-breath essence gently commandeered   

By this Marksman's Master; Death is but the rod 

of flesh back to dust and the soul back to God

Janet~

The Skyline Eats the Sun...

Today's moments were for the most part a hectic mish-mash of disarray but tonight the room(see previous post) is back together for the most part, the laundry almost done, the squares for tomorrow's church potluck just need to be iced; it was the way the skyline devoured the big pink sun-drop that inspired this poem.

Saturday’s edges thin

The skyline eats the sun

Like a pink lollipop and then

The light of day is done

The light of day is done

 Where sweep of blue on blue

Obliterates the skyline then

The yard and garden too

The yard and garden too

Become a sea of black

Where Saturday slips from our view

To Bygone’s bivouac

To Bygone’s bivouac

Every Today will fall

Its dusty streets of looking back

Fill many a madrigal 

Yet, many a madrigal

Can never take the place

Of what we hold in moment-gold

Drip-dripping into space

© Janet Martin

Week-to-week Touch-down

 What are you doing with your Saturday? Right now I'm listening to Victoria play 'Hark, The Herald Angels Sing' just before we get this room back to rights!

PAD Challenge day 29:For today’s prompt, write a do it again poem.

Saturday fills cups with slow second-coffees  (didn't we just do this?!)
and closes the book to another week's jots  (already?!)
Its seven-page chapter committed and soldered  (wait a minute. I'm not done yet!)
Into an archive reserved for our thoughts  (oh, those half-smile journeys!)

This weekly touchdown turns girls into women (wa-a-ay too fast)
and women to people they don't quite recognize  (hello,little, old lady in the mirror. who are you?)
save in the things that a mirror won't tell you  (of love-lines unshakeable)
while she marvels again and repeats, 'my how time flies'  (why am I always surprised?!)

It flies on the backs of young boys growing taller (even when mom wears heels!)
than mother; it scatters in building blocks (...traded for car-keys)
It flies in purple toqued-mittened snow-angels *(I saw her yesterday...)
Sweetly oblivious to big blue-sky clocks (bent on Saturdays)

It flies where daddies trade big dreams for duties (uses his 'play' money to pay for milk)
Monday to Friday can wear a man small (regardless of his size)
All for the love of a wee face in the window (thank God for Saturdays)
Grinning; ah, time's laugh-lines are worth it all (he'd do it again in a heart-beat!)

Janet Martin~

* yesterday I was driving through Drayton (nearby town) when I saw a little girl and her daddy walking home from school. As soon as they reached the driveway to their home she dropped to the ground, arms and feet flailing as she made a snow-angel. Her dad; grinning from ear to ear:)

Now I need to put this room back in order. suddenly ended up painting two badly chipped-scratched walls in the middle of fall-cleaning it!

Autumn-lessons

I’ve learned to love a little slower

Here, in autumn-fingers curled

I have learned to linger. And I

wouldn’t trade it for the world

…wouldn’t trade it for that pocket

Full of dreams not broken yet

Wouldn’t trade my heart-shaped locket

For a love I have not met

Wouldn’t give back what life gave me

Simply to begin again

For it isn’t very likely

I’d do any better then

I admit, though summer charmed me

With its blue-gold chivalry

I believe it warmed and armed me

To withstand what yet must be

And somewhere while hours hurried

Into yesterday the clock

Taught me how to walk more slowly

 in its holy tick and tock

…taught me to revel in nothing

But the moment in my hand

Where in autumn-fingers lingers

But a remnant yet, of sand

© Janet Martin

Inspired while commenting on Sasha’s post tonight; one of a month of poetry too wonderful to miss!

Of Soul-brooch and Heartstrings...

Where are your heartstrings moored?

We adjust, get used to what once was but is no more

That ache of ‘missing you’ is like love’s brooch pinned to the soul

I’m glad to love and have been loved enough to bear the roar

Of ‘missing you’ where new loves and new memories console

Time laughs in our faces like a bully without spite

Its hand brimming with graces we are oft not ready for

Darling, we cannot travel back even to yester-night

Save in a frigate wrought of thought’s bittersweet troubadour

…so, we adjust because we must; to pine is but to miss

Our present ‘missing you’s’ still held too close for memories

Forbid that I would squander its touch-taste because the kiss

Of yesterday is more than I am willing to appease

© Janet Martin 

Last night when you burnt supper then 'forgot' to do the dishes

I didn't reprimand, for I have seen firsthand the speed of years

and I would rather not waste moments spouting futile wishes

where daily I'm reminded of how fast time disappears...

East Window 'News'

PAD Challenge day 28:For today’s prompt, take the phrase “(blank) News,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem.

East windows unveil virgin grace; the panoramic dawn

Climbs through a fence in outer space to unearth field and lawn

Eyes still half-sleepy press their gazes to Time's blushing tray

Where palettes spill in masterpiece arrangements of New Day

This Artist cannot disappoint; east windows frame a wink

Of mute moment-anatomy brimming blue-gray, gold-pink

The atmosphere, His canvas; here soon history's increase 

Fills ev'ry east-faced window with His newest Masterpiece

Ancient, yet ever new His timeless Hand paints Time's new plea

With undeterred authority across Past's lethargy

And all that matters now as windows open to the east

Is what is yet to be; we inhale new dawn's glory-feast

Alpha-Omega Artist, ere we haste, first let us bow

On the door-mat to Evermore where mercy's over-flow

Lavishes earth's east windows from well-springs that will not fail

The holy under-tow of moments tugs away night's veil

 Janet Martin~

Genesis 1:3-5 Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.