Ode To a Wall With a Window

A wall without a window is a wall

But a wall with a window is a view...

Regular visitors are very acquainted with the tree-views below, 😅💚

often captured in photos as day breaks or seasons or weather changes

or shadows fall...

Through windows we witness as it were, time's changing of the guards;

night yielding to morning,

season to season, 

but a wall with a window lets in light...

Through windows we watch snowflakes...

or pelting rain

A wall without a window is a wall

But a wall with a window is a view

Through windows we watch seasons rise and fall

Like ebb and flowing tides of hue on hue

A wall without a window is quite plain

But a wall with a window is like art

Framing our loved ones coming down the lane

Framing many-a scene that steals the heart

A wall without a window has no sill

On which to place a friendly flower pot

Or linger at, to watch creation spill

God’s handiwork, or keep an eye on tot

A wall without a window we walk by

Often without a second thought, it seems

But a wall with a window draws the eye

To drink the sky where mercy's mantra streams

A wall without a window is mundane

But a wall with a window lets in light

Through it we watch snowflakes or pelting rain

Or earth disappearing into the night   

A wall without a window stays the same

But a wall with a window never does

Each day grants fresh panoramas to frame

Of that which is, and never that which was

A wall without a window we adorn

With furniture and shelves, artwork and books

But a wall with a window full of morn

Awakens praise and second and third looks

A wall without a window we arrange

And rearrange to suit mood, style and thrill 

But a wall with a window's constant change

We never need to wonder how to fill 

A wall without a window shuts us in

But a wall with a window sets us free

To gaze and trace familiar scenes that win

Affection for four-season pageantry/poetry

Janet Martin

A wall without a window we adorn

With furniture and shelves, artwork and books...

But a wall with a window's constant change

We never need to wonder how to fill...

 

Ode for Summer's Poets

 

Where meals are gathered from a garden-green charcuterie

Oh my, but fresh-picked goodness garners five stars, hard to beat

In simple supper-salad satisfaction guarantee

Where summer's poets thank the Lord for poems they can eat

Where golding wheat field billows like an ocean ebbs and flows...

Where overhead the sky beckons in bottomless blue pose/prose...

Where flower gardens toss a lure, sure to delight the sigh

Of summer's poets enchanted by petaled color-splurge...

Where bees are buried to their knees inside each nectar-fount...

Where golding wheat field billows like an ocean ebbs and flows

Where rural routes are fringed with wild lupine and chamomile

Where overhead the sky beckons in bottomless blue pose/prose

To summer's poets hypnotized by ballads that beguile

Where finding happiness is easier in sweet July

Where daybreak rolls across earth’s shoreline in a coral surge

Where flower gardens toss a lure, sure to delight the sigh

Of summer's poets enchanted by petaled color-splurge

Where bees are buried to their knees inside each nectar-fount

Where there are blooms enough to satisfy the thirst of all

Where the Creator knows how to stoke a syllabic count

From summer's poets eager to compose a madrigal

Where an air of contentment settles like dew-heady dust

Where clover fields yield a perfumed playground for butterflies

Where every backroad rouses a wild streak of wanderlust

In summer's poets looking for a country paradise

Where meals are gathered from a garden-green charcuterie

Oh my, but fresh-picked goodness garners five stars, hard to beat

In simple supper-salad satisfaction guarantee

Where summer's poets thank the Lord for poems they can eat

Where we hop out of bed to watch the sun come up at five

Where we linger till ten to feel dusk’s symphony immerse

Our senses, where best reasons we are glad to be alive

Keen summer's poets pressed for time to tame them into verse

Where July is an arms-wide-open, welcome-home embrace

Where shadow-pools beneath the maple tree are dark and deep

Where lavish looms spin lilies, lavender and Queen Ann’ s lace

While summer's poets smile and snare fond mementos to keep

© Janet Martin

Where we linger till ten to feel dusk’s symphony immerse

Our senses,...

Ode to Father Time

Dear Father Time...

I never tire of your ways...

Your sweet and sun-steeped golden days...(today, a balmy 20C)

Your contours, swaddled in soft grays...

Your landscapes, washed in pink...

A quick pit-stop for supper and off again)

Spring is like a dog straining wildly at its leash today!

I never tire of your ways

Your sweet and sun-steeped golden days

Your contours, swaddled in soft grays

Your landscapes, washed in pink

Your rough-and-tumble give and take

Your waves that sob and surge and break

Across shorelines that gleam and ache

With untamed poem-ink

I never tire of your hymn

It trembles in the barren limb

And throbs as buds begin to brim

With orchestras of green

With daybreak’s lilac-tinted sighs

And twilight’s gentle lullabies

With hellos, harboring goodbyes

With all that falls between

I never tire of your waltz

Your minuet and somersaults

Your promenade that never halts

But twirls me round and round

Till I am breathless with delight

Yet never tire of the sight

Of you, gilt-edged ‘gainst gath’ring night

Of a new day unbound

I never tire of your ease

Turning moments to memories

Taming my younger-hungered pleas

With humble thankfulness

My cheek against your stubbly chin

Ah, darling, how can I begin

To count your ways I cannot win

Yet love you nonetheless

© Janet Martin

Ode to a Sunrise

It must be memorialized;

the first sunrise of 2023!!

gold floods the waking world

welkin wealth spills and swells

like a glimpse of heaven unfurled

to crown earth’s hills and dells

a fervent friendliness

kindles ageless romance

hope dons the humble happiness

that bids the heart to dance

as morning laughs and sings

and makes us feel so fine

creating castles fit for kings

with glorious sunshine

...the fog-sullen rampart

dissolves; earth held at bay

Is unveiled like a work of art

Entitled Sunny Day

...a vaulted coffer tips

a dazzling surf of stars

across dawn's common ground that drips

from the Artist's paint jars

© Janet Martin

Psalm 105:2

Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him: 

talk ye of all his wondrous works.

Psalm 96:1
Sing to the LORD a new song; 

sing to the LORD, all the earth.

Psalm 143:5
I remember the days of old; 

I meditate on all Your works; 

I consider the work of Your hands.

Psalm 145:17

The Lord is righteous in all His ways,
Gracious in all His works.

One of my favorite hymns by one of my favorite artists!!

Thankyou David Wesley!

Goodness of God

Ode to Grief...

You hide in jolly hollyhocks

In eyes alight with dreams

In leisurely barefoot, beach walks

In rainbow zinnia streams

In little lass with little curl

In outdoor time for tea

To celebrate a little girl

Who just turned half-past three

In ‘my, how fast sweet baby grows’

In pangs pure love imparts

In vignettes made of mementos

To carry in our hearts

In treetop tress, first green, then red

Orange, russet, gold, then doffed

In brittle crunch beneath our tread

Where leaf-lilt echoes waft

In fading valor of the sun

In autumn-morning mist

In days, that trick us summer-spun

With nights silver-frost-kissed

In swells of history disguised

In gleaming rise of day

The essence of the Thing we prized

Snatched to dusk’s foaming fray

In what has almost disappeared

As if it never was

A Very Vexing Vaunt veneered

With breath-taking Because

Because of love, because of joy

At every turn you lurk

I sense you in the carefree boy

In poise of play and work

In gardens, grand with grin and groan

Of seed's bounteous wealth

In hands, weathered, worked to the bone 

In thankfulness for health

In pansies, ever-pleasant charm

In hope and happiness

In sweeps that ripple, rife and warm

With life and loveliness

In arms that never quite grow cold

Though Child slips from Her knee

To chase the winds of growing old

On wings of vanity

You hide in touch cut to the quick

An artisan of scars

You always hover in the thick

Of laughter’s falling stars

Ah, grief, the price of love, ah love

So worth grief's cruel test

For only love can be enough

To satisfy the rest

© Janet Martin