Showing posts with label summer poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer poem. Show all posts

Saturday, August 17, 2024

Sweet Summer...part 3

Click links below for



I began this poem the other day,
to commemorate the tipping point of August's halfway mark! 💖💖💖

Halo of gold and maroon...


Serenade of cricket-croon...


Where the floral colour-spree
Lures bard, 


butterfly...

and bee; (the bees wouldn't sit still enough to give me a good shot 😅)



Where the wonder of the world
Sparkles in dew-gilt unfurled...


Of gardens, bursting, and how
With earth’s tables heaped with chow...



Halo of gold and maroon
Serenade of cricket-croon
Morn, noon night, vibrato-lilt
Trembles in ensembles, spilt
Where the sizzling heat wave broods
Over dark and still-life woods
Where the floral colour-spree
Lures bard, butterfly and bee
Where the cornfields grow and grow
Like infantry, row on row
Where the florid landscape lies
Like a Painter’s Paradise
Where the wonder of the world
Sparkles in dew-gilt unfurled
Feeds the whine of combine-loot
Weighs the wispy vine with fruit
Stuns the poet, middle-stride
With the ink of August-tide
With the hazy, lazy grief
Of boughs, dense with sighing/dying leaf
Of gardens, bursting, and how
With earth’s tables heaped with chow
Of the gard’ner, overcome
By a seed’s volupt’ous sum
Of the brook, bereft of lay
Lyrics lost to reeds and clay
Of the pigment of the rose
Formula God only knows
Of wild lilies of the field
Spilling in copious yield
Of the rush, before the hush
After sedum’s school-girl blush
Of fleet, bittersweet dog-days
Of summer’s soft-slipping ways
Of the hummingbird that drinks
From bloom founts; reds, purples, pinks
Of hydrangea’s lavish crown
Pretty as a bridal gown
Of orchards in quiescent form
Like the calm before the storm
Of kitchens filled with chop-slice
Vinegar and pickling-spice
Dill, parsley, basil, foray
Canners never put away
Menus brightened with fresh voice
Where the cook is spoiled for choice
While the spider spins and spins
While summer’s silk lining thins
While dust wafts o’er dusky day
While the barefoot children play
While the mother collects art
Lost to touch but kept in heart
While the fondness for each flow’r
Falls prey to the baying hour
Falls prey to Bygone’s clenched fist
Clutching at frayed fronds of mist

© Janet Martin

Of hydrangea’s lavish crown
Pretty as a bridal gown...




Of kitchens filled with chop-slice
Vinegar and pickling-spice...


Dill, parsley, basil, foray...


Canners never put away...




Menus brightened with fresh voice
Where the cook is spoiled for choice...




While the spider spins and spins
While summer’s silk lining thins
While dust wafts o’er dusky day...


While the barefoot children play...





Saturday, July 6, 2024

Sweet Summer- Part two

"Summer afternoon; summer afternoon; 
to me those have always been the two most beautiful words 
in the English language." 
Henry James

Summer morning, afternoon and night are celebration-worthy, 
don't you agree?!
compilation # 2  of summer mementos
(sweet summer part one HERE)


Sweet summer is mornings, swathed in soft-mist cape
A rushing recurrence of wonder, agape...


A landscape where lilies of garden and field
Awes/Wows worship with whispers of Heaven revealed...


Where work of an Artist anoints our gaze
With countryside canvases agog with praise...



From fine feathered choristers filling the glade
With joy for the new day the Lord has made







Sweet summer is soaking in sun-shaded nooks
With cuppa hot java and basket of books


Sweet summer’s to-do lists are not hard to bear
Of tending the garden, then gleaning fresh fare...




Sweet summer is ever the tenderest yen
Of troubadour-tug of wars twixt plow and pen...


Good Lord full of mercy, what is Woman to do
With sink full of dishes, and world full of You...




Sweet summer is mornings, swathed in soft-mist cape
A rushing recurrence of wonder, agape
A landscape where lilies of garden and field
Awes/Wows worship with whispers of Heaven revealed
Where work of an Artist anoints our gaze
With countryside canvases agog with praise
From fine feathered choristers filling the glade
With joy for the new day the Lord has made
Impressing the Creature, human-nature bent
To trust in their Teacher and thus be content

Sweet summer is soaking in sun-shaded nooks
With cuppa hot java and basket of books
To take a break from toil’s beck of grins and groans
That earns the sweet slumber of work-weary bones
From redeeming wisely each hour, for we know
The truth of the precept; 'we reap what we sow'
And it is not prudent to sit idle long
Nor is it idleness to join in the song
That trembles in tresses of maple and birch
Above grassy pews in an open-air church

Sweet summer’s to-do lists are not hard to bear
Of tending the garden, then gleaning fresh fare
Of weeding and pruning and mowing for hours
To enjoy the company of birds and flow’rs
To commune with the kind Creator of these;
Hilltops fringed with stately silhouettes of trees
Meadows hung from ethereal rafters, azure
Rivers full of laughter and fisherman’s lure
Larkspur’s purple pleasure for butterflies, bees
And we who delight in the Maker of these

Sweet summer is ever the tenderest yen
Of troubadour-tug of wars twixt plow and pen
Good Lord full of mercy, what is Woman to do
With sink full of dishes, and world full of You
Where Time’s fleeting fuel, so briefly bestows
Creation’s crown jewel in every rose
And Poet is eager to tame onto page
Fond scenes to revisit when winter gales rage
Like sweet summer morning, swathed in mint-green mist
Like long summer evening, dust and dew kissed

Like slow summer afternoons, muzzled, it seems
Where breeze is too lazy to ruffle the streams
Where the former riot of bird song and screech
Grows quiet, save for the sea gulls at the beach
Where mothers are ready for tots to take naps
And shake out the warm nest made of arms and laps
Where Cat that Dog chases, gets a holiday
Where yon slope showcases sun and shadow play
Where God tips a treasure vault of petal-wealth
Where reeds turn russet, as they drink to their health

Sweet summer is never presumptuous enough
To give us too much of everything we love
Then, break its bread rev’rently, savour each crumb
Of buttercup, daisy, of delphinium
And linger a little bit longer because
What is today's Is, will be tomorrow’s Was
Save, if by the grace of God He grants the ink
To press into poem endless poppy-pink
To capture, like the fragrance of lavender
The rapturous wonder of sweet, sweet summer

...because there is always a yesterday tugging
Always a precious today that needs hugging
 Always tomorrow, tonight holds at bay
Always a moment slip-slipping away
Always, in spite of  bygone's vast eons stilled
An eager emptiness waiting to be filled
Ah, sweet, sweetest summer, you do your best part
At keeping us younger/keening the hunger in years of the heart
Though we sense Past's eloquence, hour by hour
As we collect happiness/holiness, flower by flow'r

© Janet Martin

Where Time’s fleeting fuel, so briefly bestows
Creation’s crown jewel in every rose...





Tuesday, July 2, 2024

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,...








Friday, June 21, 2024

Sweet Summer (part 1)

 Welcome, sweet summer!

Ps.19: part of verses 4 and 6
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun...
...nothing is deprived of its warmth.

Sweet summer, with so much to love we hardly know where to begin…

Where heady scent of fresh-mown hay hangs heavy on dawn’s dewy hush/brush...

Where countless hues of green imbue the rolling view, leafy and lush...



I love the calm after a storm, thunders through twilight like a train
Leaving behind a dazzling world, adorned with jewelry of rain...







Sweet summer, with so much to love, each day feels like precious fling
As earth and its fulness thereof begins to laugh, and leap and sing
Where heady scent of fresh-mown hay hangs heavy on dawn’s dewy hush/brush
Where countless hues of green imbue the rolling view, leafy and lush

Sweet summer’s thoroughfare is frilled with flowers, wonderful and wild
The garden bears the eager, carefree, banter of a bare foot child
Tree canopies cast cooling pools of shadow play across the yard
Against the wall behind the house, handsome hollyhocks stand on guard

I love the calm after a storm, thunders through twilight like a train
Leaving behind a dazzling world, adorned with jewelry of rain
I love the caroling of songbirds welcoming the day, still dark
I love the sounds of children playing in the splash pad at the park

In sweet summer we slow our pace lest we miss beauty to behold
Where duty’s never-ending chase runs through joys that never grow old
Beneath the arbor lavished with fragrant, purple wisteria-sigh
Through puddles on the laneway, strewn like mirror-fragments, full of sky

Sweet summer, with so much to touch and taste and smell and see and do
Ah, ‘what is man?’ we cry to He who runs awe’s happy wonder through
With strawberry and cherry bliss pleasing palates of everyone
With wheat fields billowing like oceans turning gold beneath the sun

Sweet summertime, when life is like a gift we open every morn
Its misty wrapping melts like butter over gleaming fields of corn
And we are glad with simple things like picnic basket’s smorgasbord
A pleasure fit for queens and kings, that everybody can afford

Sweet summer, tugging us between task and basking in pools of shade
Content with a good book and glass of iced coffee or lemonade
Where days flit by like butterflies, where school doors close and scholars grin
Sweet summer, with so much to love we hardly know where to begin…

© Janet Martin

Sweet summertime, when life is like a gift we open every morn




Its misty wrapping melts like butter over gleaming fields of corn...





Beneath the arbor lavished with fragrant, purple wisteria-sigh...




With wheat fields billowing like oceans turning gold beneath the sun...