Saturday, May 12, 2012

Whispers of Grace



Golden dawn lures me
From cover-warm sleep
Night’s fabric diffuses
As soft moments creep
Over the skyline
They hover to pass
Brief transient shadows
On sun-dappled grass

Shake off wooly slumber
A new day a-waits
Pouring in splendor
Through morn’s lofty gates
As restlessly moments
Slip over our skin
Drops in an ocean
Of what might have been…

…should we fail to seize them
Inhale from each gem
The nectar of mercy
In hope’s diadem
Trickling gently in moments
To an ethereal sea
Whispers of grace
And opportunity

© Janet Martin



Friday, May 11, 2012

Friday Thoughts~

Love is a Three-letter word
Y-O-U~

Love is also a six-letter word
M-O-T-H-E-R
 ~Spring Portraits~


Oh, let me never pine nor plead
For my neighbor’s garden fair
And let me never seek with greed
Life’s blessings that were meant to share
But as each day to history folds
Oh, let me labor thankfully
Lest I should miss the field of gold
That God has placed in front of me



Of petal-pink promises
Unfolding their hope
Of green and gold palaces
Gracing earth’s slope
Of winter forgotten
On emerald floors
And cloud-ships of cotton
Bound for gossamer shores
Of zephyr-lips tender
And azure diadem
Matriarch of splendor
And her name is Spring



She shakes out the girth
Of her floral-sweet gowns
And covers the earth
In for-get-me-not crowns
She tosses her tresses
And every limb
Dons pretty pink dresses
Or lacy green trim
Fleet-footed belle
Of laughter and grace
She restores a smile
To every face

Janet~


The little guys I babysit and I went on a spring stroll...here are some pictures in full spring color!



Portrait of a Mother



She leaves her youth upon the grass
Where all her happy children pass
She dons a robe of profound merit
God will show her how to wear it
Its filament is firm yet mild
Woven by fingers of a child
Marked by the tears of joy and strife 
And quickened years that form her life
Graciously she bows her head
To wear this cloak of meeker thread

While stages fill and man applauds
The march of fame and lesser gods
She has known the best there is
In childish hugs and good-night kiss
And she has seen love's fairest prize
Gleaming in her children’s eyes
No wild applause or acclamation
For the hand which holds a nation
Silently she bows her head
And trusts God for His faithful lead

Her children rise and call her blessed
To recognize earth's utter-best
As humbly she her will resigns
To Hands which brush her face with lines
While Vanity would stop and gaze
With pity on her love-lined face
She would do it all again
To know she has not loved in vain
For Vanity with all its charms
Can never fill a mother’s arms

No great award, no Hall of Fame
To reward this humble name
Yet there can never be another
Name, as honorable as Mother
So while the buxom hours pass
To shed their petals on the grass
She will thank God for the hours
Where she tended sweeter flowers
In a garden like no other
Reserved for one which we call Mother

Janet Martin

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Because of Him

 
 
Because of the grace and the love He has shown
Because of His word that will not pass away
We have a foundation of rare, precious Stone
A blueprint for living as we build day by day
Because of His absolute forgiveness of sin
We are set free from the burden of guilt
No condemnation remains deep within
Redemption impartial flows in His life-blood spilt
Because of His infinite mercy and care
Hope will sustain us in spite of travail
We have a Father who does not despair
His way is perfect; His love will not fail
© Janet Martin
Let no man deceive himself.
If any man among you seems to be wise in this world
let him become a fool that he may be wise.
for the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.
For it is written: He takes the wise in their own craftiness. 1 Cor. 3:18-19

Coveted Illusion



While others sleep
The poet seeks
New forms to spill
Her unnamed thought
For poetry
Stirs quietly
In air
Tattooed without a jot
It's just a feeling
Without shape
And an ache
Without just cause
But to poise
In contemplation
In the midnight hour because
Time offers no outstretched palm
Where the poet can devour
Long un-tallied realms of calm and
Stolen moments from an hour
So while wiser souls lay sleeping
Poets toil in tender bliss
For that coveted illusion
In a poem’s perfect kiss

© Janet Martin

What Mother's Anticipate...



Mothers can wait for the house to be tidy
When footsteps no longer dash over mopped floors
And mothers can wait for those years of pure quiet
No shouting voices or slamming of doors

Mothers can wait for the days of no laundry
And sparkling windows with no trace of a kiss
Where curious noses press to its barrier
Because they are wondering ‘where mother is’

Mothers can wait for long days with no duty
For surely to be busy is heaven on earth
And toiling for loved ones is life’s finest beauty
Filling each moment with purpose and worth

…but mothers smile softly with anticipation
For they cannot wait for that most special day
When childish eagerness plucks for sweet mother
A humble, yet glorious dandelion bouquet

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Just a Song...




If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?
If it’s just a violin, why can I hear it plea?
If it’s just a dance twixt living and dying
Oh, darling let’s make it the best it can be

If it’s just a song of cello and timbrel
Then why do I hear the tempo of time
Charting its chorus; a relentless minstrel
Clutching my heart in its rhythm and rhyme?

If it’s just a song, why do the words move me
Until I’m unable to see through my tears?
If it’s just a song, darling, will you love me
Long after the music of life’s quickened years?

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?
Why do I hear more than its raw melody?
If it’s just a song twixt living and dying
Then darling, let’s make it the best it can be

J~

On the Threshhold of Twilight



Here is the hour of musk-tender power
Drawing the shadow of dusk on the day
Here is the hour that unfolds like a flower
In petals of amber and soft silver-gray

Here is the taunting in warm-whispered wanting
For one precious hour of fair pasts to return
Here is the portal where time-tempered mortal
Recalls dim-lit gardens for which softly we yearn

Here is the meadow where memories echo
Bitter-sweet sonnet of sorrow and mirth
As twilight comes stealing, life’s hurt and its healing
Swells in the stillness that blankets the earth

Here is the hour as darkness creeps lower
When exile is sweeter than noon’s laughing clan
For darkness makes clearer and somehow draws nearer
The whisper of memories common to man

© Janet Martin


Perfection




What lies beyond the pale blue hill
Of moments as they flow?
Why, simply this; God’s perfect will
Wherever we may go~

Janet

Trouble Me Not...



Trouble me not; oh fear of tomorrow
Unknown is the visage of future intent
Trouble me not; oh yesterday’s sorrow
Firm is the seal on a moment when spent

Trouble me not; oh guilt that would haunt me
But for the Hands bearing scars in my stead
Trouble me not; though failure would taunt me
But for the Hope as my pardon flows red


Trouble me not; restless oceans of longing
Vain are the futile endeavors of dust
But oh, what fulfillment and peace in belonging
To He in whom we can affix our trust

Trouble me not; Lord, I plead for Your presence
To conquer the demons that quake ‘neath Your gaze
When I am weak God, Your strength is perfected
As I relinquish my will to Your ways

© Janet Martin


 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, 
for my power is made perfect in weakness. 
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, 
so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  2 Cor. 12:9

Monday, May 7, 2012

Things Change~



a-a-a-ah! I thought Poetic Bloomings said 'take a line from a favorite movie' They asked for the title...oh well, this still remains a favorite line for the inspiration of this poem...I'll try a title later:) My kids are coming off the bus as I post this.



Things change. They always do, it's one of the things of nature.
~Bridges of Madison County~

Things change…
For better or worse
Blessing or curse
Things never stay the same
In the hour of sorrow
There is hope…
…for tomorrow things will change
And in moments of laughter
We know
They will echo
Long after
The good-byes and the tears
Because we realize now
Things change
And somehow the years
Make us more keenly aware
Of this absolute truth
We cherish moments with care
While dreamers of youth
Reach
Aspire
To the great beyond
We dwell
In the desire
Of this moment... on…

© Janet Martin

In the midst of  all change One remains changeless....thank-you God.


The Possibilites of Chance




There is nothing absolute in the realm of chance
An ellipsis of maybes’;
But your cute wink and glance
Caught me off-guard
As I seek to align
My head
With my heart
Resolutions grind
To a hook-line-and-sinker halt
For something in your cobalt-blue gaze
Turns clear-print resolve to a vibrating haze
Then, in contrast to my practicality
I follow the dots of chance and maybe…
For I see, emerging from my sudden trance
The possibility of a beautiful dance

© J~

Sonnet of Spring's (or Life's) Deepening Twilight


See how the wave of twilight converges
Over pine spires to the shore of the skies
Feel how its motionless euphony surges
In earth-scented eighth-notes and willow-limb sighs
Far in the distance the spring-peeper heralds
In vespers of innocence, its wee acclaim
Beyond the hills a backdrop of coral
Deepens to ruby in ethereal flame
The brave bloom of spring-time closes its mouth
As sassy noon zephyrs repose to the south

Stillness in choirs of heavenly tenure
Dissolves life’s temporal struggle and hurt
A melody of longing and languor
Wakens the diamond asleep in the dirt
A river of moments and memories roll
Over the spectator perched on night's brim
No word or syllable touches the soul
As earth’s Creator conducts twilight’s hymn
The shimmer and shadow of moon-haloed tones
Brushes the meadow and cool cobblestones

See how the rise and fall of eve’s ocean
Clutches the heart in the swell of its cape
Feel how the tide of wordless emotion
Aches in the hollow of thought without shape
Loss and fulfillment, failure, forgiveness
End and beginning, future and past
Hurting and healing and hope coalesce
Under the banner of twilight’s broad mast
The Maestro directs the subtle release
Of night as it falls in an anthem of peace

© Janet Martin

as I listen to this I simply have the 
over-whelming need to write something! 
J~





Friday, May 4, 2012

...is Poetry

To bleed a heart upon a page
Can be a fearful leap of faith

To taste the flavor of a word
Can juxtapose pleasure and hurt

To free a thought from ivory skull
Can be a tortured push and pull

Commiserated misery
And ecstasy
Is poetry

J~
  
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
Ernest Hemingway

Of Gossamer Eclipses...



Away, away, the past is laid
In coffers firmly sealed
Afar, afar the future waits
Its mystery unrevealed
But now, but now one moment breathes
A gossamer eclipse
As future becomes present
For one gasp upon our lips
Then it recedes; a silk-spun waft
To time’s elusive crypt
Just as another, whisper-soft
Brushes our finger-tips…
Future to present to the past
The shadow of all three
Coalesce as they are cast
In breaths, to history

Janet Martin

Defining Present...
...inhaling future
exhaling past
 



Friday Thoughts~


When loved ones weigh
Upon my thought
I hold them close
And pray…a lot

When loved ones feel
Too far away
God brings them closer
As I pray

When loved ones wonder
If I care
God hugs them for me
Through my prayer
 
J~

There are so many people I know and dearly love
with heavy burdens to bear...all I can do is lift them up
to God in earnest prayer...
and He will do the rest!
But by His grace go we.

 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Rom.12:12 

His Embrace




A soft May dawn rises to brush
The thunder-cloud awry
Its gold and silver-misted hush
Drapes low against earth’s sigh
And from the throat of bird and breeze
Glad anthems tune the air
Their free, unhindered praises please
The One who placed them there

Lord, tune the measure of my praise
To flow without restraint
Forgive me for my errant gaze
And vain, foolish complaint
Nature in grand perfection blooms
Submissive to your will
As flowers leap from earthen tombs
And leaf to wooded rill

A soft May dawn rises to brush
The past into the mist
His mercy stirs the unmarred hush
Of heaven’s gracious gift
Into my out-stretched palm He pours
Another day of grace
Let me desire nothing more
Than His present embrace

© Janet Martin

 May the words of my mouth 
and the meditation of my heart 
be pleasing in your sight, 
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.
Ps. 19:14

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Channels




Who cuts a channel for the torrents of rain,
    and a path for the thunderstorm,
 to water a land where no one lives,
    an uninhabited desert,
 to satisfy a desolate wasteland
    and make it sprout with grass?
 Does the rain have a father?
    Who fathers the drops of dew?
Job 38: 25-28

Beneath the tumbled awning
Of a thunder-laden tress
A sudden jolt of dawning
Amplifies our nothingness

How oft have we, with troubled gaze
Traversed unfathomed deeps
Longing to understand the ways
Of One who never sleeps

But as we search the astral plains
From porticos of dust
He cuts a channel for the rains
…all we can do is trust

…in Him, who has a higher thought
Than man can realize
Beneath His touch nature is taught
And man, if he is wise

Beneath the tumbled awning
Of a thunder-laden tress
He whispers to our longing
And He fills our nothingness

© Janet Martin


A Pantoum...Spring Fever



 Poetic Bloomings asks us to try a Pantoum

The PANTOUM consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB, in which the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third line in the succeeding quatrain; each quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD… In the last quatrain, the two unused lines from the opening quatrain are used to fill in the last stanza, with the first line of the poem becomes the last line of the poem (ZAZA). Walt’s example illustrates this traditional form of PANTOUM.

(This sounds just challenging enough to be alluring)

I’ve come down with a sudden fever
Aroused by breezes tumbling through the screen
And I’ve become an old, renewed believer
In words like violet, indigo and green

Aroused by breezes tumbling through the screen
Passion stirs a yearning wanderlust
As words like violet, indigo and green
Draw me to pastures rich with rain-drenched dust

Passion stirs a yearning wanderlust
A longing to return, I know not whence
So I choose pastures, rich with rain-drenched dust
Wiggle like a child, beneath its fence

A longing to return, I know not whence
But Father Time does not restore the past
As now a woman squirms beneath the fence
Content to revel in its shadow cast

Father  Time does not restore the past
So, I’ve become an old, renewed believer
Content to revel in its shadow cast
Oh, I’ve come down with a sudden fever…

© Janet Martin

Hope's Wonder




Do not despair
As petals fall
Returning to the earth
For this is not
Hope’s curtain-call
But its humble re-birth

As sullen soil
Reclaims its fruit
And dust returns to dust
The seed of hope
Remains secure
Beneath this transient crust

For in the bloom
Abides the Source
Although we cannot see
He imbues
In Time’s discourse
Hope’s wonders yet to be

© Janet Martin

 Psalms 103:15 As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

To Walt and Marie...



Their kind words fall
Soft, whispered seeds
Into a fallow plot
They sprout
Creating poetry
From gathering of thought

Kind words are seeds
They strip the weeds
That fain would choke the flower
They nurture where
Bleak, dark despair
Would seek to over-power

Translucent seeds
Kind words inspire
A universal garden
Where poetry
Blooms rampantly
Beneath love’s tender pardon

© Janet Martin

Congratulations to one year in bloom!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

A Young Man's Awakening...



One day it is basketball
The next day its guns
Or hockey or baseball
In the name of ‘fun’
I worried as I hugged him
And bid him goodnight
That somehow we were missing
Getting priorities right
But as I turned out the light
He asked, ‘Mom, can you pray?
and mom, do you know what I thought of today?
I thought of how pointless
Everything is
No matter what we get
Because everything changes
And nothing stays
It all disappears…’
I feel a lump in my throat
And the sparkle of tears
as he continued…
‘Yeah, I just suddenly thought
of how useless life is
if we don’t have God…’
 

Mom. Otherwise known as Janet~

Matthew turns 14 today.


Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Willing...




I would be willing to drink for a while
The warm mellow, yellow
Of May’s genteel smile
And I would be willing to let the hour pass
Lounging on pillows
Of earth-scented grass
Beneath budding tresses of willow-tree sigh
The back-drop an azure
And cloud-coddled sky
Where nothing would wander from this perfect spot
But the pleasures I ponder
In the garden of thought

© Janet Martin

Temple or God?

  

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. 1 Cor. 4: 19-20

I flip through a myriad
Of glossy facade
And I wonder if our bodies
Are a temple
Or god
No mention made
Of the heaven-breathed dust
As air-brushed perfection
Arouses our lust
Look ten years younger!
Feel like twenty-four
Eat all you want
And lose inches galore
Laser to rob us
From the laugh-lines of life
There is Botox to numb
Or transformation of knife
Because looking your age
Is becoming a crime
None should surrender
To the soft touch of time
Cosmetics to paint
What cannot be ‘helped’
A vitamin drink
Is a miracle, gulped
Bleach, dye, remove
We are commodities
In the world’s most thriving
Of industries
As photo-shop images
Seduce the mind
In a quest that is hopeless
For we cannot find
Life’s rich contentment
In this transient facade
If our body becomes
Not the temple, but
A god…

© Janet Martin
Yes, I totally believe in taking care of our bodies…
because they are ‘a temple…’
God, let me not be so consumed by it that it becomes a god…

Thank-you Glynis...

Without the encouragement and editing
of a friend, kind and dear
The article I attempted
would not be here...

Janet Martin

Monday, April 30, 2012

Greatest



We shall overcome
Not by the merit
Of what we have done
But because of He
Who abides within
As He sets us free
From the power of sin
Thus by His Grace
He fills us with worth
For greater is He
Than any on this earth
Who ever were
Or yet will be
Greater
Oh, greater
Much greater is He

© Janet Martin

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. 1 John 4:4

Hallowed Might



Over the foot-path of time-weathered sod
Onward and upward and homeward we plod
Many a danger and many a care
And many an angel attending our prayer

Into Your hands oh God, we place our trust
We are frail creatures of longing and dust
But You promise mercy that never shall cease
Your tender assurances whispering peace

Take our fear, God, remove our doubt
Be our Vision within and without
For You never leave us; we never escape
Your tender visage in each breath we take

Kind, tender shepherd, may each precious sheep
Heed to your Voice and the watch that You keep
May it bring us comfort; in life's darkest night
As we feel the Presence of hallowed might

Janet

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
I will fear no evil,
for Thou art with me.
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Ps. 23:4

April's Demise



We welcome it today
Ten thousand circle-kisses
Silver-gray
Fading out the
Lingering fringes
Of April’s demise
Settling vagabond dust
In a green paradise
As bud-vaults expand
Into venturing leaves
Softening the land
Still cradling seeds
Washing the world
In a river of gray
As April fades into
The embrace of May


© Janet Martin

On the last day of April we are enjoying our first true April Shower...we have had  brief periods of rain but nothing that lasted even an hour! This is a good 'soak-er'! thank-you God.

A Parent's Advice...



My dears, these are not merely ‘parental recitals’
That we compose for your indulgence
But they are a proffering of hind-sight
From life's biter-sweet divulgence

The 'advice' we seek to give you
Is not invented for your torment
But rather, with hope that its whisper
Will be a cherished, worthy instrument

My dears, though you may think we’re out-dated
And don’t really grasp today’s truth
The generation gap is a bridge of experience
Back to untried wisdom of youth

Dream on youth’s grand, blue ocean
Sail for that uncharted realm
But keep our whisper within your reach
And remember Who abides in the helm


© Janet Martin


Reflectively Yours...




Poetics Aside asks us to write a fading away poem

When the bitter-sweet pangs of parting
Have eased their grip on my heart
When the tears that threaten behind my smile
Have quietly played their part
When the sound of the door as it closes
And the click of the latch as it locks
Leaves me with nothing but memories
And the perpetual ticking of clocks
I shall retrace us: not in sorrow
But with humble gratitude
That God saw fit to touch me a bit
With the beautiful gift of… you

© Janet Martin

Fading Away...

Poetics Aside asks us to write a fading away poem...

I would like to thank each and every poet for
moments of
inspiration,
standing ovation,
cheering,
laughter,
soft smiles,
sentimental smiles,
lingering long, after…
the heart-lurch,
the heart-clench,
the sob,
the tear,
the o-o-o-h,
the a-a-a-a-h,
the yes,
my dear,
the tender, blissful
mouthful of
sigh…
for we all know
this
is
not
good-bye
but only
until we meet
on
the
next
street…
see you around the corner:)

Janet

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Problem Areas



 Poetics Aside asks us to write a problem poem.

You assume you know
Why I do what I do
But the problem is, honey
I assume with you too
And in the end the problem
Is plain you see
It makes an a**
Of u and me =assume

There’s so much to do
And so little time
Especially when the lure
Of word and rhyme
Draws me from the rigidness
Of toil and duty
To discover the same words
In a new form of beauty
And that can be a problem
As the clock strikes three
And work remains undone
Because poetry
Has erased common logic
And common sense
But I seek no excuses
To aid my defense
For I am in love
With limitless art
As the gathering of thought
Spills from the heart

© Janet Martin

Friday, April 27, 2012

Friday Thoughts~

The future is never what we imagine
For better
Or worse
…but some Day
It will be

The things we hold dearest
are those we make time for

Some tears
poetry will not appease
Some poetry
tears will not appease

You bent, a mere boy
to tie your shoes
and stood
a man

We wait…
…because that is what love does

Life slips by
In moments
Moments slip by
In life

We cannot choose
The unknown, hid from view
But we can choose consequence
In the deeds that we do

There are moments
That can never be sweet
Such as the tainted victory
Of The Cheat

We cannot fool God
But a fool will fool himself
Into thinking he can

Dare to stand brave for this out-dated truth
Virtue and purity in the days of your youth

Janet~

Cleaning gives a person a
 lot of thinking time...

The Trouble Is...Time

 Poetics Aside Prompt: The Trouble Is...

There are endless life-rituals to perform
But today, when I studied you
Suddenly, my heart turned achy-sweet warm
And in that instant I knew
That no matter what pushes to the fore-front
Clamoring for attention
I must stop and really look at you
I must stop and really listen
Because no matter how often they tell us
That life is short and time flies
It is easy to get all caught up
In materialistic little lies
And before you know it, another day
Dissolves in the molten west
And most of what we have accomplished
Follows in its steps
Because the trouble is, excuses never excuse
They never exonerate the past
We all are given twenty-four hours to use
Before its shadow is cast
And the best that we can hope for
Is God’s gracious second chance
Another day to hope and pray
To laugh and love and dance
And trust that in its music and muddle
We leave a kind legacy
Because Time is a perpetual trickle
And does not wait for you or me
But slips to the eternal bygone
A flicker, a whisper, a gasp
So stop, really look and listen
Before present-gifts slip from our clasp

© Janet Martin



The Trouble is...



Poetics Aside asks us to write a The Trouble Is...poem.
 
I would have been there
But I was here,
You see?
Because the trouble
My dear, is
There is only one me

© Janet Martin


He made it to the next round!
We are rooting for you Shayne!
Love and good luck in round two!

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Music of Heaven...


Mellow they drop
Like soft notes of a song
Reviving the laughter
Of hillside and lawn
Somnolent cadence
Of murmuring splash
Urging to radiance
Spring’s emerald sash
Silver epiphany
Sacred refrain
Sudden renewal
Surges again
Softening edges
Stirring the sod
Tuning the earths cape
With whispers of God
Like a heart transformed
By the touch of His hand
The music of Heaven
Restores barren land

© Janet Martin



Meant to Be Enjoyed Slowly~


When I read you
I cannot rush
So I save you
For the midnight hush
Some I appreciate
In broad daylight
But you, I save
For the deep part of night
To grasp every meaning
That you never spell
And to hear every whisper
That you never tell

Janet

On Planting



If you plant peas, my dear
You will not get beets
The fruit that will sprout
Is the off-spring of seeds

...just as in life
Deeds are seeds of fruit
We cannot plant evil
And expect to reap good

Janet~

In 'not-so-loving' memory of Gwen



 Poetics Aside asks us to write an animal poem.

Her name was Gwen
She was black and white
And how she would smile
In devilish delight
As the little ‘milk-maid’
Would splash and slide
Through grass and weeds
And fresh-made ‘pies’
No shout or slap
Would alter her gait
As she looked back and laughed
At the little milk-maid

Co’ boss, co’ boss,
My sing-song plea
Seemed to be lost
On ‘her royalty’
In old rubber-boots
Two sizes too small
The milk-maid would beg
And the milk-maid would call
Co’ boss, co’ boss
Won’t you hurry please?
With a toss of her head
Gwen would pause ‘neath the trees

They say there is 'one'
In every crowd
And Gwen wore that title
Sedately and proud
A yell and a poke
And a slap on the rump
Did not even cause
Her ‘royalty’ to jump
Through the gate at last
Prodded into place
Gwen lifts her muddy tail
And slaps my face

Janet Martin

This was back in the day when dairy cows were turned to pasture
and for a while it was my job at 5:00 p.m to help bring in the cows, tie them up,
assemble the 'milkers' and after supper...milking.
Gwen and I were arch-enemies...I did not like her and she did not like me!
...oh! and 'muddy tail' was the polite description... it was more like manure-drenched
at milking time if she lay in the stall and let her tail drag in the gutter! Ah, good times:)