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

Monday, June 22, 2020

A Little Like a Wave (that rolls across the land...)


Welcome! Day Three of Summer...

 The first day of summer was almost perfect...
I say 'almost' because it seems in life/love there is ALWAYS
a 'fly in the pudding', right?

Sisters💖
Melissa came home for her first visit this year (because of the pandemic)
then someone's truck broke down and Jim needed to work on Sunday, cutting our visit
a little short because we needed to drive her home on Sunday morning instead of later in the day..
Our whole family was together at last...except Matt; He was at his buddy's wedding...
so we learn to commit to treasuring the moments 
that slip through our fingers like sun-sparkles on water



A little like a wave that rolls across the land and leaves
Behind a wake of wonder spent on petal-wings and sheaves
And echo-sparkles, strewn like diamonds on a dusty path
Where wafts the mist of sun-kissed days in summer’s aftermath

A little like a dream come true but reality-warped
As avenues of green and blue turn bronze and heat-wave scorched
While we are humbly smitten by God’s mercies, new each morn
Where silver gleams the rippling surf of barley-fields and corn

A little like a front porch perch as we lean to behold
A panoramic surge of oceans, purple, pink and gold
Where hills, wild-flower frosted flare and fade and none can tame
The tide that spills across earth’s shoreline; summer is its name

A little like the blur of childhood after it is spent
A mosaic of moments molding bittersweet lament
Where what so long we hungered for is caught upon a swell
Of turquoise-tinted fervor always ending in farewell

Then dawdle in the dreamland that cold, winter nights compose
And give yourself permission to be beguiled by a rose
And loiter by the bank that brims with daisy-hymns and such
Before the hour, like the flower falls prey to time’s touch

Drink deep; the dewy dazzled dawn is like a fount of stars
Walk on the water of front lawns to flower-frothed sand-bars
And wade, waist-deep through afternoons that soon will not exist
Snare summer’s sunshine-wine in flasks for winter to untwist

Dare to be carefree, for a little even while we bear
(Because of love’s Thereof) its steady, sweaty weight of care
Do not wait for a Better Day to treasure now and here
Because with ev’ry cheep and chirp summer will disappear

A little like a pang piercing asunder heart and soul
A little like a bulging pocket with a little hole
A little like a rhapsody half-written and released
A little like a photograph, faded and fondly-creased

The Hand that gifts the sands of time and sifts its ebb and flow
Helps us to hold but not to cling, to love and then let go
So then, when Summer slips beyond the reach of glossy leaf
A hint of peach will linger to sweeten her loss and grief

© Janet Martin


Friday, August 30, 2019

Like Sparkles on a Surging Swell


I wrote this while trying to mediate the tug twixt what Is and Was 
of a busy-beautiful-blur-of-a-summer...



I raid the reaches of my mind to try to find among its mess
A glint of sea-song left behind to bind my wounds of happiness
Where like a whirling carousel, faces and places beam and blur
Like sparkles on a surging swell that washes away sweet summer

Time makes me feel a bit forlorn while torn between what Is and Was
This marathon of morn to morn can spark a soulful storm because
Its days are never long enough when spread beneath an august sky
While time’s ways, ever on the move always weds hello with goodbye

…and echoes strewn beneath high noon like petals from a peony
Or notes that float like red balloons; or medals for love’s bravery
Where wonder crowns the ups and downs of heirloom-hours such as these
And hunger drowns in cups of joy for laughter-flowered memories…

…of garden strolls and bowls filled with the fruit where labour and God meet
Of simple things that makes us feel like kings and queens with muddy feet
Of green-leaf-shimmer, what’s-for-dinner, pat-a-cake and stir the stew
Of making room for one more plate, of home-sweet-home’s more-like-a-zoo

I raid the reaches of my mind to find the font for poetry
Lord, help me never to be blind to what is right in front of me
Where like a whirling carousel, days beam and blur through smiles and tears
Like sparkles on a surging swell that makes landfall and disappears

© Janet Martin

Friday, August 16, 2019

Mid-August Memento


 With a tender twinge I wish you all a Happy mid-August!



Wind woos in woodland, across August’s main
Sun starts its trek to the west once again
Dream-lands of summer are starting to shrink
Fact scrawls its matter in memory-ink
Causing the mother and poet to pause
Beneath arbors of vibrant leaf-applause
Knowing that nothing can revert the path
That always leads to summer’s aftermath
Quickening pulses with a stirring sense
Of bloom-bowers bending with recompense
Where Beauty, brimming with barley and rye
Soon splays stilled sashes beneath brooding sky
Bidding, nay begging, our bustle to slow
Before our footfalls are muffled by snow

© Janet Martin



Monday, July 29, 2019

Lounging Lakeside




Lap of lake lulls;
pulls us into pure purposelessness
 

Slap of sea-song slides;
glides like a hymn of happiness


Hint of wind-wisp rifles;
trifles with a green- leaf clock


Glint of silver bobbing;
lobbing diamonds to the dock


Traffic made of ripples;
stipples hazy, lazy bars


Laughter wafts;
soft petals skimming a blue lake of stars

© Janet Martin


Sense of Summer Slipping From Her




The light of summer lingers
Like raindrops gilding leaves
Like zephyr’s feather fingers
Soft-tracing memories

Sometimes the sense of summer
Is more than she can stand
Like girlhood slipping from her
Like Child from mother’s hand

Like Flower’s fading flourish
Like daughter’s restless sighs
Like echo-stars that nourish
The hunger in Her eyes

Like Time's tenuous tugging
Like sea-song’s unfurled fist
Like fishing-boats chug-chugging
Into the morning mist

As darling days of summer
Splish-splash against the dock
Something is slipping from Her
Like heartbeats from a clock

© Janet Martin