Impending Endings...or Fifteen...or Lost Afternoons

 PAD Challenge day 4: it's two-for-Tuesday!

Here are the two prompts for today:

• Write a beginning poem. And, of course, when something begins, it often signals something else ending. Soooo, the other prompt is to…
• Write an ending poem. Poem about something ending.

"If only we could drive!" they sighed...

They wait

Where what they’re waiting for

Seems far too far away

A world full of tomorrows

Full of dreams

They dream today

They wait

And do not know how soon

They’ll pry at time’s clenched fist

As they look for

Lost worlds

And girls that no longer exist

© Janet Martin

Youth Is As Youth Does...

1920's

Though generations come and go...

youth remains the same

1950's

2016...

Sometimes I wish

That I could spare

You from wrong choice

And its heartaches

But youth must be

As youth will be

You’ll learn the truth

Through your mistakes

Some things, as hard

As I may try

I cannot make you

Understand

Until, after

Matters of act

You learn the bitter truth

Firsthand

© Janet Martin

Photo #1-Grandpa or his pal
Photo # 2-Uncle Willie
Photo # 3-neighbors
Photo # 4-Matt, our son

Teachers Required

For today’s prompt, PAD Challenge day 5, we’ve actually got two prompts 

(that is, a Two-for-Tuesday prompt). Here we go:

1. Write an experienced poem. Or…
2. Write an inexperienced poem.

They are eager,

With dreams youth-fired

As they scan help-wanted ads 

Of 'Experience required'

© Janet Martin

Ode to a Young Dreamer (part one of a two-for-Tues.)

1. Take the phrase “Ode to a (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.
2. Take the phrase “(blank) is for the Birds,” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

PAD Challenge day 17:

They wear wishes like jewelry wound about the heart

Knowing ‘the best is yet to come’ youth tears moments apart

Like early Christmas presents wrapped in hope’s gossamer gleams

These pioneers on pathways leading to a land of dreams

They do not let the ‘what if’ or ‘impossible’ deter

Them from the road ahead that will free them from where they are

Stars fall from heaven; find their way into their cheeks and eyes

Where every day is a highway to Yonder Paradise

…and love is like a firecracker, all sparkle and fizz

Their prayers poured with purpose of getting beyond what is

While they think they are wiser than their ancient mom and dad

Bound to the yoke of Duty for a loaf of daily bread

© Janet Martin

"I was going to have all kinds of fun when I live in Toronto", lamented Melissa the last time she was home. "but I don't have any free time or money..."

;-))

Of Friendly Fireside

Color and temperature of a flame are dependent on the type of fuel involved...wikipedia

yes, its Wikem-Day. If you are a regular reader you will know what this means, but if you are new to this word, check its definition here!

I seek them out

Drawn it seems,

By fearless trust

And brave day-dreams

Undeterred

By history

Souls soft-stirred

With mystery

Eyes, like candles

Brightly-strung

Time is long

For they are young

So, I seek them out

Where hungry desire

Bids me warm frozen dreams

At childhood's fire

© Janet Martin

On Sunday I look forward to a new term as a grade six Sunday-school teacher. I am always excited, not so much for what I will teach them, but for what they will teach me!

Also, I would love to share one of my favorite fireside poems

There in the flame of the open grate,
All that is good in the past I see:
Red-lipped youth on the swinging gate,
Bright-eyed youth with its minstrelsy;
Girls and boys that I used to know,
Back in the days of Long Ago,
Troop before in the smoke and flame,
Chatter and sing, as the wild birds do.
Everyone I can call by name,
For the fire builds all of my youth anew.
Outside, people go stamping by,
Squeak of wheel on the evening air,
Stars and planets race through the sky,
Here are darkness and silence rare;
Only the flames in the open grate
Crackle and flare as they burn up hate,
Malice and envy and greed for gold,
Dancing, laughing my cares away;
I've forgotten that I am old,
Once again I'm a boy at play.
There in the flame of the open grate
Bright the pictures come and go;
Lovers swing on the garden gate,
Lovers kiss 'neath the mistletoe.
I've forgotten that I am old,
I've forgotten my story's told;
Whistling boy down the lane I stroll,
All untouched by the blows of fate,
Time turns back and I'm young of soul,
Dreaming there by the open grate.

Edgar Albert Guest