Showing posts with label October Poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label October Poem. Show all posts

Friday, October 27, 2023

Autumn Joys

 

A few snap-shots from the past few days that helped inspire this poem






The plush hush-hush of feet through leaves...



The plush hush-hush of feet through leaves
The stillness of fields shucked of sheaves
The way the wind through woodland weaves
A canopy of blue
The hurry-scurry, frisky squirrel
The leaf-cartwheel, the boy and girl
Imitating the lilt and twirl
Of treetop’s dwindling hue

Rain-rendered decoupage, wet-cold
Lanes and sidewalks paved with leaf-gold
A little mittened hand to hold
Or steaming cup ‘o joe
Gladness so profound the heart leaps
With praise for squash and pumpkin heaps
And all goodness man plants then reaps
As by God’s grace we go

The five-star bliss of five-star dreams
For five-star supper’s five-star beams
Of five-star happiness that gleams
In loved one’s smiles and eyes
Warmth of homecooked simplicity
And precious love of family
Kindles a thankful-as-can-be
Masterpiece-paradise

The undulating rise and fall
As landscapes pen a madrigal
That needs no words to say it all
Yet leaves spectators awed
By nature’s color-symphony
Spilling across the dimming lea
An autumn song we throng to see
Whose composer is God

© Janet Martin

Rain-rendered decoupage, wet-cold...


Lanes and sidewalks paved with leaf-gold...







Saturday, October 21, 2023

In October




In the field corn harvest dwindles brittle whispers, row by row
In the garden silence kindles marigold-ember's brave glow
In the gaudy, tranquil woodland, treetop-tapers flare and dim
In expanding canning cellars, bins, boxes and jar-shelves brim
In the heart a bumbling, humbling, ecstatic Thanksgiving Hymn

In the orchard apple-orbs gleam, luring raptured touch-and-taste
Urging ladder-laden pickers to heave-ho with holy haste
Where fruit-dappled topiaries flaunt  sweet-taunting red and gold
Where chill winds tweak cheeks with cherries and turn tender fingers cold
Where happiness is more merry than one heart can dearly hold

In the kitchen pots, bowls, baskets, laugh with blessing-overflow
Filled with final favors rescued from forecasts of frost or snow 
In the air aromas mingle; nutmeg, ginger, cumin, cloves
Wafting, like color-glints captured from fall-flavored bosc and groves
Cinnamon-caramel-tipped/dipped foliage, pumpkin and squash treasure-troves

In the morning mist and frost kissed vistas of hill, rill and vale
Gleam like amber cider poured from heaven to earth's silver grail
In dusk’s blue-blush, stark-dark dying a soulful dirge seems to sound
For autumn days flying, lying, leaf-shaped on the listless ground
For the star-blind dreamer sighing for fortunes, ever unfound

In October we walk slower down the leaf-embellished street
Scuffling through the fallen bowers, like lamplight beneath our feet
In October we take cover under sparser canopies
Everybody is a lover of October's wooing trees
In October pain and pleasure runs us through like wind-tossed seas 

© Janet Martin








The 'snooze-button update' below is yesterday's news
 because this was supposed to be yesterday's post
but yesterday ran out of hours before it was up.
Because yesterday was an extra-early-start with an extra-late end
 I allowed myself an extra-hour of sleep this morning😊
hitting snooze to my heart's content😂

I forgot to post my snooze-button accountability yesterday; I hit snooze😔
so last night I decided maybe if set my alarm clock for 6:15 instead of 5:45
 I would be more apt to take my wake-up call/jolt a little more seriously, 
so I did that, and you know what?!!
I was wide awake before the alarm-clock could shock me from slumber-land
so-o-o, up I did'st get!
No snooze-button today😂

Friday, October 13, 2023

Autumn Awe-Awareness



A few glimpses,
at what sends Autumn's awe-meter over the top...
Thank-you, Lord


Awareness is fine-tuned to how the wind is winnowing the bough
Of supple sigh and so we try to linger longer in the Now


We loiter under arbors where we look up-up to stare and stare
At nature’s oh-so-fine design of leaf-motifs on sheafs of air



We seek out orchard-bowers bent with harvest’s rosy remanent
And feel earth’s pull; intangible mingling of gladness and lament




We polish Reason’s silver spoon and see a picnic afternoon
Beckoning, so we smile and go to steep our souls in Autumn’s boon


Of sunrise and set snared aloft in little leaf-mirrors soon doffed
Of nature’s wreath lowered beneath footsteps that fall, muffled and soft



Of treetops shedding threads, red-gold; autumn’s raiment is hard to hold
Of hearts that break with delight’s ache, of winds that tug, sassy and bold




Of dawn, rushing yon eastward rim where mercy’s renewed favors brim
To frameless sweeps where nameless deeps flood earth with heaven’s worship hymn




To rekindle the simple thrill from pumpkins perched on porch and sill
Or leaves tossed wild to long-lost child that romps and runs from hill to hill

© Janet Martin














Saturday, October 29, 2022

Of Paling Autumn-tide...



Tucked between stunning sunrises and sunsets
a week of busy, beautiful autumn days and fall foliage farewells
whirled away...



Of senses steeped in heavens heaped with bottomless azure
Of hunger held where moments meld to moments like felled leaves
of awesome blaze of autumn days, no awed gaze can secure
of joy and grief as leaf-by-leaf earth gathers final sheaves

of happiness and loneliness in autumn’s madrigal
of dappled skies as lullabies are loosened from the limb
of mellow, yellow bliss in the felicity of fall
of landscapes glossed with leaves of frost as lofty tapers dim

of garnet, gold, and umber soldering of farewell’s kiss
of tattered music sheets scattered like fleets on leaf-tossed seas
of vain attempt to circumvent the haste of What Yet Is
of precious days soon blazoning a maze of memories

of hearts beguiled by art run wild in unrivaled release
of brooding blues and dazzling hues in myriad shades of red
of purple hills as morning spills its molten masterpiece
of worship’s woo as winds undo bronze buttons overhead

of pure delight footloose, in spite of ties that snare and bind
of heartstrings caught in every thought besotted by fall’s bow’r
of senses keened by tresses weaned, to what is soon behind
of season spent and reason bent with remnants of lent flow’r

of wisdom earned by lessons learned of what no one can stay
of now and here hinged to a sphere of ages out of reach
of you and I beneath a vault of sky, crowning today
of urge and whim soft burgeoning with what remains to teach

of ‘love-you-so’ and letting go and ‘oh-don’t-leave-me-yet’
of weathering the tethering of dusk-bathed countryside
of cherishing the precious perishing leaf-pirouette
of ships that sail upon a vale of paling autumn-tide

of glint and glance of dizzy dance of leaves across the yard
of taking stock of tick and tock’s inevitable claim
of shadows thinned by a cold wind raking a boulevard
of wooden wicks like candlesticks snuffed of life’s little flame

of scarves of smoke draped on an ochre ambience of death
of days undone by ways common to man since Time was spun
of a rag quilt, pieced, stitched and spilt with every sacred breath
of silver ilk, like milkweed silk snagged on a ray of sun

© Janet Martin






Saturday, October 22, 2022

Ode to October (literally and metaphorically)

 





When season-end baskets and bowls
Cradle final gleaning that tolls
With future gardens gathered in...



When garden gourds are gathered in
When woodland awning starts to thin
When Jack Frost takes a predawn stroll
Across each frond, pond, nook and knoll
When landscapes start to don the hues
Of purple, umber, bronze and blues
When nature is like a lodestone
Drawing us from work to be done
When the wind’s kiss pinches and nips
Ears, noses, chins, and fingertips
And sunrise skies are stark and sheer
We know October’s end is near

When like a gush of waterfalls
Hearts bear a rush of madrigals
That beg for brushes, ink and page
And yet no artwork can assuage
The bittersweetness of the sense
Of bare feet shod with recompense
Driving the wearer of dues wild
With whispers of Forever’s Child
Because for all that time does steal
It leaves behind the kind appeal
Of happiness’s eager joy
Akin to a hungry schoolboy

When a brisk broom nobody sees
Chases a brood of laughing leaves
Across the stubble-stippled lea
Of summer’s silenced symphony
When apple orchards don the pall
Of Bygone’s quiet, hallowed hall
Where voices danced, drifted and rang
As pickers bantered, jived and sang
When market stands are heaped with fare
That busy, calloused hands put there
When harvest-bustle dwindles down
Turning earth into a ghost-town

When rustle-fell and footsteps merge
When want and wonder taunt and surge
When echoes stir the settled dust
Of pretty, petalled wanderlust
When joy and sorrow intertwine
Like buds betrayed by brittle vine
When golden tapers start to dim
To labyrinths of darkened limb
And front porch lights dapple the dusk
Like warm welcomes against the brusque
And brooding, lowering of eves
Awash with rain and wind-tossed leaves

When little cakes and cups of tea
Adapt an ache of luxury
And books, like patient, paper friends
Wait, where winter will make amends
When season-end baskets and bowls
Cradle final gleaning that tolls
With future gardens gathered in
To box, or bag, or crocks, or tin
As jar upon jar testifies
Of Bounty’s mercy-laden prize
And gold and green turns bare and brown
As Autumn lays its glory down

When pots simmer with supper soup
And contentment is like a troop
Of hungry helpers warmed and fed
With soup and cheese and fresh baked bread
When The Poet wrangles to rhyme
A very precious sense of time
...we ought to take to touch and taste
What none can keep yet none can haste
But simply treasure as it rolls
Like sea-song across hearts and souls
To listen to its lyrics played
Before its notes of color fade

When Mother Nature claps her hands
With final no-nonsense demands
We know October’s end is near
Ah, time enough to shed a tear
After the pangs of what must be
Become pictures in poetry
After the hatches of the land
Are battened down by a firm hand
Tucking the town and country lane
Beneath a downy counterpane
When hearths flicker, crackle and grin
While winter softly closes in

When, with the turning of the sod
We trust the providence of God
Who cups the crux of season-strains
In law and order He maintains
In the beauty that He designs
In the goodness that He refines
In the perfection of the plan
Above the ways and wiles of man
Then, with the deaths that Autumn brings
We do not fret the Yet of things
Because the Love that tolls time’s bell
Instills hello in each farewell

The appetite of hungry clocks 
Insists we put on shoes and socks
Insists we turn the other cheek
For rebel-rousing rogues to tweak
Insists we yield; futile to fight
The fortitude of day and night
Insists we learn how to let go
Of No Returns that we love so
Insists on pressing crease by crease
The telltale signs of Autumn's Lease
Insists on teaching us to dress
Our naked wants with thankfulness  


© Janet Martin

When apple orchards don the pall
Of Bygone’s quiet, hallowed hall..