Renewing Love's Vows

 Today Poetic Bloomings is prompting us to contemplate the inevitable changelessness of change...

A good love song...

...another.

You say I always change my mind

A woman’s right, I’m told

But darling, my love will not change

Though we grow very old

Still, should love change, pray it will be

More kind and patient, dear

When we are long estranged from how

We got to There from here

Then all the changes we’ve fought through

And laughed and groaned and wept

Will be the legacy, my love

Of promises we’ve kept

© Janet Martin

Rain-love

Today's inform challenge at Poetic Bloomings is short and sweet; the Dodoitsu.  The Dodoitsu is a fixed folk song form of Japanese origin and is often about love or humor. It has 26 syllables arranged as four lines of 7, 7, 7, 5 syllables respectively. It is unrhymed and non-metrical.

Soft rain slips a cool blanket

Over the rounded shoulders

Of a summer-weary earth

Drained of its laughter

© Janet Martin

We are love-loving the rain after a scorching summer!

Commiting to 'I Do'

Today's Poetic Blooming form challenge is the Quintain Cascade.

 Read more about this form here.

You make me say and do some things I thought I never would

The naughty and the nice become you more than most, ‘tis true

That day when I first met you my intentions were so good

How much you’ve taught me while I thought that I was teaching you

I want to be your student, love, all of my lifetime through

You lavish me with kisses and the innocence of words

And darling, you stir me in ways like nobody else could

You are the smallest, biggest blessing in the whole wide world

My, my, when I first held you I knew love was pure and good

You make me say and do some things I thought I never would

You teach me how to linger longer while throngs thunder by

I’ve fallen quite in love with living, all because of you

And often when the day would be gray with life’s weary sigh

You startle me with laughter like nobody else can do

The naughty and the nice become you more than most, ‘tis true

Sometimes I fail you; but you are oblivious to ‘can’t’

There is no quitting, even when love is misunderstood

You put your arms around me in the middle of a rant

And hold nothing against me even though I know you could

The day when I first met you my intentions were so good

You are not cumbered with the care of what others might say

And time is of no matter; ‘will you help me find my shoe?’

‘Will you read me a story?’ Where, oh where, along the way,

Do we become too rushed to lie beneath time’s sky-high blue?

How much you’ve taught me while I thought that I was teaching you

Master, mistress of your domain, love’s biggest, smallest charge

God knows I’m quite unfit to commit to the likes of you

Yet, since we’ve met you’ve taught me to love and live, free and large

Though I am middle-age and you are only half-past two

I want to be your student, love, all of my lifetime through

© Janet Martin

Moment-Medley

Today's Poetic Bloomings in-form challenge; The Quadrille

There is a mystic meter to life’s moments

As they run like glints of sand

Through Mercy’s Hand

To phantom lands

Of Done

Let’s

 Linger

Longer, Darling,

Mosey slower through

This day before the door

To Never More soft snuffs its gold to gray

© Janet Martin

Let's... 

Linger... 

Longer...

 Darling...

 Mosey slower...

 ...through this day,

 Before the door to Never More

soft-snuffs its gold

to gray.

Memento

This morning summer climbed my porch like a yellow cat, warm and lazy...

Poetic Blooms prompt: day 26: metaphors and similes

Summer morning climbs over the hill

To sit on my porch like a yellow cat

Licking its paws

Before it slips through the underbrush

To become part of

The World That Was

Little girl laughs; Leaps, limber and lithe

Through a blue and gold afternoon of

Summer art

Before she slips from ribbons and curls

Scattering mementos that mother folds

And holds in her heart

Summer dusk fills its melting pot

With the rise and fall of Time’s

Latest foray

Before it too falls prey to the reaching way

Of midnight's melding, the shaky, black gelding

Stands, then gallops away

© Janet Martin