Art-Throb

The closing of another chapter in my child-care 'book'...

as tomorrow Little Girl becomes School-girl!

 

"You're so big and I'm so little" She said as she looked at the pictures

And I said 'yes'💕

(why do I feel so small and how has she gotten so big?!)

I wish that I could paint for you

A very lovely work of art

A keep-sake I would give to you

To show the colours of my heart

To paint the perfect shade of joy

And spill with artistic finesse

The preciousness of girl and boy

That fills my heart with happiness

For little tot can teach a lot

To we, weathered by Father Time

And if I could, I’d paint, not jot

The spot that overflows with rhyme

…where poem then, mingled with prayer

My aching art-throb must appease

And ink must etch in frames of air

A Masterpiece of Memories

…for like the bubbles that we blew

An era pops and disappears

Leaving behind for me and you

A gallery of rainbowed spheres

…where laughter lilts and echoes bob

Like butterflies and petal-falls

As pictures waft from love’s art-throb

To hang forever on heart-walls

© Janet Martin

Last week these two left just a few days before becoming proud 

new big sister and brother to a new baby sister!

This 'job' tugs my heart every which way but loose💗💖

(I tried a few times and EVERY time

just as I clicked he looked down😀😘)

...and last but not least Grand-sonny starts school today!

When my daughter sent me the pictures

I told her I don't know whether to laugh or cry💖💖💖

September Skin...

Happy September Saturday!

SO much is happening to remind us

of the preciousness of Time...

Let's cherish moments with our loved ones because

we never know what a day holds!

Each morning is set free from a fresh flask of moment-dust

Then seize its opportunity and raise thy glass to Trust

The colours of the countryside have lost their lustrous sheen

The timbre of time’s telling tide shucks cornfields of lush green

Deception’s furtive favours, for a small while may appease

The heart with summer-flavours steeped in ling’ring fantasies

But cannot keep at bay for long the truth that will be told

Where September tolls welkin gong and turns the pear tree gold

…and tips yon cruet, spilling bluest awning overhead

Where sweet time as we knew it runs a sentimental thread

Through you and I as we grapple with subtle season-shifts

While comforted by apple-orchard orb’s enticing gifts

As we count down last days of summer with awed gratitude

For who can tally the vast ways of God’s goodness renewed 

Each morning is set free from a fresh flask of moment-dust

Then seize its opportunity and raise thy glass to Trust

For everyone can ill afford to pine for yester-years

But taste time’s vintage being poured, before it disappears

We have an obligation, nay, a privilege to give

To God pure adoration for each single day we live

September stokes in us an ache for Season almost spent

Where we are beholden to make the most of Mercy’s ‘lent’

And learn to love the colours that are slowly seeping in

For glove of youth and valour will soon don September skin

Where the fool mourns what once was, but the wise remain content

Time is too precious to fritter in bittersweet lament

© Janet Martin

Eccles.3:1

To everything there is a season, 

A time for every purpose under heaven:

It is also still very much canning season;

Off to make some salsa!

(I got up at 6:00 to start the canning 

but then the sun was rising 

and then a poem begged!)

And such is always the poet's quandary/dilemma

...to heed domestic duties or to poem-a 😏😊

Cinderella Story

Today I wear the ache only

inevitable change can evoke...

Happy September!

Like a teapot

tipped and drained of

its last drop of tea...

Wondering what the tea-flavour is?

It's fresh-picked mint, lavender and anise!

Inspired in large part by the cooks on this YouTube channel;

Country Life Vlog

Each day unraveled

Like a petal

Rainbow run awry

Like a water-color

painting

Like a

Butterfly

Like a tea-pot

Tipped and

drained of

Its last

drop of tea

Like a page

Used and

perused

To taste its

poetry

Like a carriage

Grand and gleaming

Going to

the ball

Like modern-day

Cinderellas

Glass slippers

And all

Like a garden

Celebration

Pick and dig

and delve

August turned into

a pumpkin

When the

clock struck

Twelve

© Janet Martin

Trying to capture August in perfect poem

is a bit like trying to get a picture of a butterfly in perfect form;

You better be quick because it won't stay still for long

before it flits away...

The butterfly bush is a-flutter with colourful wings these days!

Of Dwindling Kindling

 

Because winter fireplaces/woodstoves take a lot of kindling 

we are already on the look-out at the end of people's driveways 

where camp-fire wood is for sale.

Reminds me of a different kind of kindling, 

always dwindling far too fast...

This hour where the flower bluffs

On beauty’s candlestick

Cannot escape the hand that snuffs

Its flicker from the wick

Now frets upon heart’s deep desire

A fond, intoning knell

Where joys that kindled friendship’s fire

Have dwindled to farewell

The dying embers on a hearth

Where round we gathered, oft

Wakens in us the dusk of mirth

In footsteps, keen yet soft

…where pain bends pleasure’s maiden form

In pangs of sweet refrain

To take the tender heart by storm

With ‘till we meet again’

…until in some morrow’s delight

While wounds of parting heal

We’ll tend the echoes that ignite

What farewell cannot steal

P-s-s-s-t! ash to ash and dust to dust

The quickened pulse will fell

Death veils frail trails of wanderlust

With whispers of farewell

This hour where the flower bluffs

On beauty’s candlestick

Cannot escape the hand that snuffs

Its flicker from the wick

Then cherish well heart's deep desire

Beneath high-noon's blue bell

Where joys that kindle friendship's fire

Are dwindling to farewell

© Janet Martin

Good-bye Is a Gateway...

 PAD Challenge day 30:For today's prompt, write a goodbye poem.

Adios Amigo

Is It Really Over 

We pave the path to aftermath with joy and sorrow’s tears

How fleeting is the filigree that weaves whispers to years

Where hello always turns to farewell far too soon it seems

And we are always learning how to readjust our dreams

I love the way life dishes out surprise; I hate it too

The color of goodbye flows in a thousand shades of blue

Where nothing new under the sun still stuns us all the same

And time will always be a rebel that no one can tame

Darling, let’s take the long, slow way to farewell’s parting kiss

I know we both knew from the start that it would end like this

But we are poets; life runs wild with opportunity

Thus good-bye is a gateway to tomorrow’s odyssey

© Janet Martin

 

 

Date With Daybreak...

PAD Challenge 23: For today's prompt, write an appointment poem.

Ah, let me look at you longer

You always hurry by

As if you had appointments too

Up in the big blue sky

Ah, let me linger in your blush

Of young and fresh appeal

…yet, as I plea I sense the tug

Of duty’s tireless zeal

Ah, let me lean over the brink

Of where no one has been

To touch the hemline of your robe

Shimmering, silver-green

Ah, from my perch upon my porch

Let me learn, sweet and slow

Beneath the sunshine of your smile

The art of letting go

© Janet Martin

On Invisible Detonations

 

It's only for a few months, he reminds me 

sensing the brave face I was putting up

as I watched him pack to move out for a few months...

Arms never could hold heart-pieces in place 

Bravado buckles in spite of intent 

It is impossible to embrace 

All that we longed for after it is spent 

Love never did promise Easy Street 

Though sometimes I kinda wish that it would 

They say the bitter makes better the sweet 

Later came sooner than I thought it could 

You want a hug? He asks bashfully 

I try to keep a brave smile on my face 

But oh, my old heart gets the best of me 

Arms never could hold heart-pieces in place 

© Janet Martin 

 

Aha Moment-um

“We see now how it doesn’t take long to get old” 

Commented Jim as we chatted this morning

 and marveled at the hastier haste of each year. 

From smooth youth to wrinkles

from 'na' to 'aha'

in the ever-present now

time keeps its vow

(this weekend our son is planning on moving out for a few months

so I dug up this song)

Where Does The Time Go?

flashback...

I might not miss Matt's mega-laundry heaps that much but

I will miss cooking for him. 

Jim is gone most weeks and I was always glad for

Matt's working-man appetite to give me an excuse to cook

heartier suppers than we women generally choose.

We see now what those before us, tried to tell us those years before 

We understood how swift the surge of moments washes Decade’s shore 

Where we become more tuned to tides that flow so fluidly through us 

While marveling at how each year seems quicker than the previous 

And now we see how easily we get to where our parents were 

When they tried to impact on us the brevity of here-to-there 

While we were busy being much the way that young people still are 

So sure, that time is on their side and getting old is far, so far 

Aha, aha, we say as we see time its timeless truths unfold 

Where we cannot divert the flux bent on turning young people old 

But bear in mind that to be kind is always age-appropriate 

And we are not at the mercy of time but of He who authors it

We see now how we ought to make the most of each and every age 

Where, no matter how old we are change always strives for center stage 

Thus, keeping us astonished by Time’s polished howdy-do and bow 

As it keeps on delivering the aha, of what we see now 

© Janet Martin 

sometimes it feels as if Jim and I turned old-er like this...

He sends me pictures...

as well as he often calls while rolling down the highway.

He is a much better conversationalist than I, so thanks to him

we communicate a lot in spite of miles between!

Happy New Year!!

Let's not look back too long

Or look ahead too far

For we might miss The Very This

Of right here, where we are!

May The Good Lord Bless and Keep You 

Jim Reeves

 

Numbers 6:24-26

“The Lord bless you

and keep you;

 the Lord make his face shine on you

and be gracious to you;

 the Lord turn his face toward you

and give you peace.”’

So Soon Strewn Behind

 

This poem 'happened' as I was thinking about my brother-in-law and his wife 

about to hand over the home-farm to their son and wife 

who are excited to become parents soon,

 My brother-in-law will leave the place he has called home all his life,

because he took over the family-farm from his mom (not so very long ago, it seems)

Needless to say, this is a Bittersweet time.

The above photo was taken five years ago at Christmas

as we drove in the laneway,

 knowing doors would be flung open to warmth from the woodstove pouring through,

tables laden with lovingly-prepared favourites, 

and to laughter, so much laughter💗

We had intended to have a final, farewell dinner here this year 

but that didn't happen due to Covid-restrictions.

This wheel-and-deal of daily grind 

This ever forward-flight 

Grants only what we leave behind 

So, hold, but not too tight 

This here-and-now that steals our breath 

With oceanic wave 

Always succumbs to shore-line’s death 

And Bygone’s brimming grave 

The old-farmhouse where once we grew 

And knew love’s finest joys 

Is fondly handed over to 

Tomorrow’s girls and boys 

While we with tear-wreathed fondness gaze 

Across the quickened years 

And wonder at life’s age-old ways 

…how swift time disappears 

For we, in the thick of love’s fight 

Abreast the westward tide 

Often forgot the sacred rite 

That tunes the common stride 

Where moms and dads, not long ago 

Wore winsome threads of youth 

Ah, when did Wisdom’s crown bestow 

The snows of Telling Truth 

How near the yesterday still seems 

When we with star-blind eyes 

Peered through Kaleidoscope of Dreams 

Toward some far-off Prize 

How subtle is the pledge that drives 

Its weightless wedge between 

Hellos always hinged to goodbyes 

What is to what has been 

As we become the meeker ranks 

Of much less understood 

Yet gladder in the humbler thanks 

Of knowing God is good

The measure of a photograph

Though fine and fitly framed

Is always but the aftermath

Of what the Past has claimed

So whether we are young or old

The thing to keep in mind

Is to treasure the moment-gold

That soon is strewn behind

How soft and suave the hours fly

Through living's loving fuss

To fill the framework of a sigh

With memories of Us

© Janet Martin

Psalm 90:12

So teach us to number our days, 

That we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Unrelenting Blending, Wending...

 

yesterday's snow-squalls have tucked today beneath a thin white sheet

Unrelenting blending, winding 

Binding what was new to old 

Finding, where dusk drew yon awning 

New day dawning, gray or gold 

Blushing, rushing phantom river 

Coursing through a flue of dreams 

Forcing future to the suture 

Of Bygone’s unyielding seams 

Over, under, woe and wonder 

Easing seasons to thin air 

Teasing reason’s raging hunger 

With un-plundered thoroughfare 

Urging to emerging, surging 

Streams rife with life’s latest Must 

Dreams still pending, wending, mending 

Maybes with rekindled trust 

…where we stand on sands of gloaming 

Washed by foaming Bittersweet 

Crashed by waves that heave then vanish 

Over graves and under feet 

Reaching, teaching, students learning 

Caught in yearning’s undertow 

Not to grip the drip too tightly 

But hold lightly then let go 

Lest midst hug-and-tug-sparked duels 

Fueling fixed aftermath 

You or I miss God’s kiss-jewels 

Strewing Today's Very Path 

© Janet Martin 

Today's To-do list for the household of faith...

2 Cor.16:13-14

 Be on your guard; 

stand firm in the faith; 

be courageous; 

be strong.

 Do everything in love.

Garden Siesta Song

 

After the garden is plowed...

...it always seems to beg a farewell-ballad

Like a pungent, umber blanket tucked in all along each edge

Autumn’s garden, slumber-readied tugs at Twilight’s loose heart-threads 

Sky-high noon of laughing summer has its sun-spun luster lost 

Now October yields to kisses brusque with dusk and leaf embossed 

Soon a crop of stars will sparkle on the midnight of the sod 

And the plot that popped with colour will be covered up by God 

Granting to the soil sweet respite while fruit-flower founts are sealed 

Interceding for the good of both the grower and the field 

Longing and relief entangle in the furrows, doffed and brown 

Where the silk of echo-spangles wafts aloft like thistledown 

As the murmur of spent summer like a brook, not frozen yet 

With a tempo of mementos plays a tender minuet 

Sleep, dear garden do not worry what the morrow holds for thee 

God has said as long as earth is, seed and harvest-time will be 

Snuggle up and take thy rest now, beneath downy sheets of snow 

While you earned winter’s siesta, I was learning to let go 

© Janet Martin 

Minuet in G

Skimming the surface of Echo-spangles...

The bright side of a poor potato patch...lots of play-space!

Sweet September's Bon Voyage

 

We went from sun to rain in short order this morning,

in true fall fashion!

farewell, Belle of Autumn's Beginning and Summer's End.

By the time you read this...

...it will be raining

The summer’s gleaming embers dim 

Upon the cooling hearth of earth 

The poet of September’s hymn 

Lures lyrics from the lamp-lit limb 

That tugs hearts twixt pathos and mirth 

The golden rod and aster maze 

Loses youth’s luster, dazed by frost 

While sumac sets the hills ablaze 

And mesmerizes mortal gaze 

With woodlands, orange and crimson-tossed 

The good land yields its dusty grip 

Where we had toiled beneath the sun 

And reveled in the fellowship 

Of seeds to swift fruition's slip 

Like deeds when they are bled and done 

The whisper of green fields of corn 

Becomes a rustling thoroughfare 

Where brittle minstrels fill the morn 

With autumn ambience reborn 

In climaxes beyond compare 

The orchard is a paradise 

For pickers and dreamers alike 

The apple is autumn’s First Prize 

Inducing mouth-watering sighs 

Before the unforbidden bite 

The shawl that sweet September weaves

Is full of holes, gossamer-webbed

Then patched with fall's first falling leaves

That scuttle round the feet of sheaves

Not gathered into harvest yet

September’s sad-sweet happiness 

Cannot keep summer’s door ajar 

But falls prey to the promises 

Of fall’s unbridled loveliness 

To comfort longing’s avatar 

Where Beauty broods and binds the wounds 

Left by sea-song and sun-kissed sand 

And turquoise-tinted afternoons 

That drifted like posy-pontoons 

Toward October’s Promised Land 

Farewell, farewell, September’s spark 

Is snuffed by winds that toss Time’s barge 

Filled with passengers that embark 

Upon oceans of early dark 

Beneath a Hand in perfect charge 

So, we sip hot cider and tea 

And try to keep our chins held high 

Because each season’s summery (oops, summary😉) 

Will always and forever be 

The springboard to wonder’s ‘oh my’ 

Then do not weep, but keep the quick 

Of summers yet to come intact 

Where we must all suffer the kick 

And weather the incumbent prick 

Of less friendly matters of fact 

Because we would not recognize 

Life’s Magnum Opus when it comes 

If we could always clasp The Prize 

Or indulge want’s quixotic sighs 

That breed ingratitude's rude sums 

September, loved like family 

 Disappears in fond-teared release 

Where God with kindly sympathy 

Does not slam summer’s door cruelly 

But grants October’s Masterpiece

© Janet Martin 

We celebrated End of September with Pumpkin Spice green tea!

It is Grand-daughter's first 'tea-taste'; 1/3 tea and 2/3 milk

 

I think she likes it...