Sun-whispers...a Quatrain Cascade Poem

 (we are having our first serious sun-whispers of the season;)

I snitched the first stanza of a poem I wrote last night to try another Cascade poem. Poetic Bloomings is show-casing the cascade form today.

Sun-whispers softly grin

Where winds mutter, blue-cold 

And so this tug-of- war begins

Twixt gray and azure-gold

We long for the kind kiss

Of summer on our skin

And dusty lanes of bare-foot bliss

…sun-whispers softly grin

The dismal monotone

Of woodland's naked fold

Makes a body feel alone

Where winds mutter, blue-cold

Gold puddles warm the earth

Nudging the seed within

The womb of Mother’s nature’s girth

And so this tug-of-war begins

The firmaments declare

Winter is growing old

A duel provokes the air

Twixt gray and azure-gold

© Janet Martin

His Loving Proof

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt the Cascade form

(use each line in your first stanza as the last line in each following stanza)

The whisper of a new day yearns

On morning’s far ephemeral brink

The velvet veil of midnight’s deep

Dons pastel borders of soft pink

The past whereon we dreamed and danced

Is sealed, no refunds, no returns

But oh, the grace of second chance

…the whisper of a new day yearns

From astral streams hope’s halo beams

Time dips its quill into love’s ink

It’s signature of mercy gleams

On morning’s far ephemeral brink

The gossamer of purple mist

Embellishes the supine sweep

Of slumber’s bliss; mute murmurs kiss

The velvet veil of midnight’s deep

Ah, what is man that God approves  

Our offerings of splattered ink

His grace in glorious, loving proof

Dons pastel borders of soft pink

© Janet Martin

 When I consider your heavens,
    the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
    which you have set in place, 
 what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
    human beings that you care for them?

Ps. 8: 3-4

Arabesque Allure

Boldly you stare

Silver, like air

And lure me with

Beguiling grin

Ghostly you gloat

And like a fur coat

You beg me to slip in

To you, and do

Those things you ask

But this is not

Some plebeian task

That you dangle

You preen the bait

Sweet spangles

Tempting me to taste

And yield

But I embrace

The gift of grace

And hold it high

My sword and shield

For it protects me

From your charm

And guides me gently

On His arm

Leading me in

Each step I take

For you

Bad, sad habit

Are hard to break

© Janet Martin

Sometimes I still am tempted to stay up half the night 

and write, 

but it is a habit I have tried to break 

so I can be a nicer person during the day!;))

Tonight words whisper in my head

But I will…oh I will…

Go to bed.

Tug-of-war Time

 The duel twixt sunshine-sweetness and surly storm-cloud begins...

Sun-whisper softly grins

Where winds mutter, blue-cold  

And so this tug-of- war begins

Twixt gray and azure-gold

Subtle, its overtures

Of ruby-jeweled limb

Of rivers trickling through the snow

In muted meadow-hymn

The chill of winter-boast

Wavers, sensing the thrill

Of zephyrs tumbling from yon cloud

And rolling down the hill

But then in brutish scowl

He hails his motley fleet

Employing them to spill their worth

On woods and field and street

Across earth’s frigid cusp

His snowy squadrons seethe

But they cannot deter the touch

Of spring nudging beneath

…and soon the blustering

Of shiver-laden jeers

Uncurls its lip; a drop, a drip

And winter disappears

© Janet Martin

Eternal Riches

By word and deed

We plant life’s seed

And render to earth’s portal

The tattered lot

Of scattered thought

And offerings fully mortal

But in this blip

Of trip and slip

And moment-scope of living

We touch the sod

With things of God

In humble, gracious giving

Both word and deed

Fail and succeed

Often confusing reason

But if we live

Simply to give

How full the harvest season

© Janet Martin 

How often we seem to err
In the course of daily living
But one thing is certain and sure
We can never do wrong by giving

Windowsill Maidens

…and there they were

Like robust children

On a rainy summer day

Noses pressed up to the window

Asking, ‘May we go out to play?’

Rosy smiles,

Eager ambivalence

Heaven-splendor lent to earth

Laughing to despondent passers

With exuberance and mirth

What of silver

Splatters falling?

What of landscapes glistening white?

They can hear their mother calling

From a garden out of sight

So, there they wait

Blithe, buxom beauties

In the winter sun they dream

Red geraniums in the window

Where icicles fringes gleam

© Janet Martin

There they were, inside the window at the local gas station! My 'beauties' are looking pretty anemic compared to these...Time for some Miracle-grow, I think!

Of Fleeting Melodies

Sheer, phantom oceans surge

Sweeping a blood-red coast

Where joy and grief converge

To shape love’s uttermost

Our nearest, dearest thought

Spills ragged, without skill

And all that we are not

Humbles our stubborn will

I hold you close to me

But even in my clasp

Love’s raw and raging sea

Ushers you from my grasp

…as life’s relentless art

With cool indifference

Shapes and re-shapes the heart

In love’s relinquishments

God, let me never waste

One breath in drudgery

But freely, fully taste

It's fleeting melody

© Janet Martin

Our God IS Sovereign

This is our God

Sovereign and sure

And none exceeds His power

By His promise

We will endure

In life’s most trying hour

This is our God

Immortal King

Father and Son and Spirit

Sustain-er in our

Suffering

He kindly helps us bear it

This is our God

Lion and Lamb

Offering and Vindicator

Man of sorrows

The I AM

Heaven and earth’s Creator

This is our God

He parts the seas

No army over-throws Him

Deliverer

Of mysteries

And none can fully know Him

This is our God

Faithful, the One

This life is but a vapor

Before we bow

Before His throne

To dwell with Him forever

© Janet Martin

Yesterday afternoon we saw face to face the couple we prayed for .They shared the details of their flight from raw and real danger. They are safely at home, waiting on the Lord. Pray they can keep good courage as they face sudden new unknowns. As they shared they constantly reiterated that in spite of everything, no matter what happened and happens, God is Sovereign and to Him be the glory.

Last night we watched the first episode of The Bible and again God’s sovereignty impacted my heart. This is I AM, the Same yesterday, today and forever. The God of Abraham and Isaac is the God of you and I. hallelujah! This is our God!

Prelude to Spring-song

Beneath the mute and mirthless shield

Of March-bedraggled cover

Tarries the bliss of daisy field

Of Queen Ann’s lace and clover

Beneath this staid and cheerless scrim

Of hollow quiet ringing

Trembles the touch that probes the limb

Into bloom-petal singing

Beneath the silent, snow-clenched scope

Of winter’s weary gumption

Quivers a season of new hope

And spring-song’s glad redemption

Soon this white space will bear the grace

Of emerald-golden sashes

As winter renders its embrace

To silver spring-song splashes

© Janet Martin

Something Softly Stealing...

The east is bathed in primal hints

Of something softly stealing

Across the ocean’s onyx glint

And midnight’s mystic ceiling

The past consumes each moment spent

The fount of future flowing

From vaults of mercy heaven-lent

To mortal touch bestowing

As on the brim where earth and sky

Meld in gold correlation

Midnight has laid its garment by

In morning celebration

Footsteps fatigued at dusk’s descent

Hearts heavy with care’s measure

Embrace life’s fervor once again

As mercy spills its pleasure

© Janet Martin

When I got up this morning the east was embellished with a gold and pink metallic sash, quickly dissolved in blue-gray wash so I used a photo from the archives.

Chicken-pox

When ya’ got the chicken-pox

You can’t be wearin’ shoes or socks

‘cause chicken pox got no respect

But perch on feet-soles, scalp and neck

And every crease, cranny of skin

That they can manage to squeeze in

When chicken-pox make a house-call

They are not courteous at all

We don’t see them till they hatch

And all we want to do is scratch

But mother says that we must not

Oh, how I hate the chicken-pox

'Bring me a swab of calamine,
A drink, a bath of oatmeal-grime'

How sweet and happy life will be

When I get past this misery

Of burning, itching agony

And chicken-pox melancholy

© Janet Martin

She prefers to be living in an oatmeal-bath these days;)

"Victoria; in the words of my mother, 'this too shall pass'. "

At least they will be better by Saturday, her 12th birthday!

Solace

 My 'Happy-place' is the corner of our living-room or The Poet's Den where I recently moved my ever-expanding poetry collection.

Poetic Bloomings invites us the share our 'happy place' today.

Soft surrender like no other

It’s a bit like coming home

To the arms of gentle mother

In the comfort of a poem

Timeless treasure tunes the silence

Promises from God to men

Murmur in the troubled darkness

As His whisper moves my pen

Ache of longing, fear of morrow

Flows in quiet tenderness

Melding pleasure, pain and sorrow

In this think-in-ink caress

Healer of heart-ache and hunger

Troubadour of sonnet-song

Passion, prayer and promise murmur

In the solace of a poem

© Janet Martin

Wonderful, Wondrous Wonder

 

We repent and are forgiven

What a wondrous, glorious thing

There is just one way to Heaven

Through the lifeblood of a King

Not by works or gold and silver

Is His justice satisfied

But as we trust sin's Deliverer

Him; Jesus Christ crucified

Oh, what love and great compassion

Suffering so we may live

Once for all; infinite offering

When we ask Him He forgives

© Janet Martin

When my hubby asked what was so urgent as I stumbled out of bed and turned on the computer I tried to explain to him through choked emotion, how sometimes it awes me anew ‘we repent and He forgives’. There is no limit to the mercy of the Kings of kings and Lord of Lords; the One who shed His own blood so we may live.

What Did You Come to See?

What did you come to see?

A reed tossed in the wind?

A man in fine array?

A voice of one crying?

What did you come to see?

The horror of blood shed?

A corpse of suffering

With thorns upon His head?

What did you come to see?

A cross? A king? A thief?

Or did you come to see a Lamb

Bearing atonement's grief?

Why did you come to gaze

At heaven’s mercy-seat?

Was it your hatred or your love

That drew you to His feet?

What did you come to see

As He cried, ‘it is done’?

A man upon a tree

Or Jesus, God’s own Son?

© Janet Martin

Like a Lamb

She tiptoed in on silver scrim

Of February’s waning

While poets slept softly she crept

Beneath Time’s astral awning

The gilded wing of darling spring

Consoles the frosted tresses

Beneath night’s arch keen, moody March

Whispers of Easter dresses

The phantom skien of moment-mein
Employs its muted measure
As on the hearth of quiet earth
We greet Spring's sweet harbinger

© Janet Martin

I think March came in like a lamb; calm but very cold!

Life's Moment-sky

 This morning life's moment-sky is as colorless and bleak as the landscape.

In my heart of hearts I know

This time beneath life’s moment-sky

Is but a twinkling ebb and flow

Before we bid its gasp good-bye

This time beneath life’s moment-sky

Is a scabbard of mystery

And none of us can prophesy

The details shaping history

Its keen, ephemeral ebb and flow

Will test and try our boasted trust

For none of us can really know

Our depth of faith until we must

Before we bid its gasp good-bye

May we acknowledge only this

…One greater than life’s moment-sky

Prevails, and where we are HE IS

© Janet Martin

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

The truck my husband drives broke down shortly after he loaded in Sask. yesterday. Since no mechanic has time to even look at it until next week he is flying home this morning. We never know what a day will bring and it is better in the long run that we do not. God provides grace and strength in our hour of need and only for the hour we are in!

Making Doughnuts and Memories

I wonder, he says

As he dangles the dough

Heavily in the air

Letting it land ungracefully

Like a selfish prayer,

I wonder if I promised to give him

Pizza for life,

For free

If Dad would allow me to be a baker

Instead of what I was going to be

…and I turn to gaze at this not-quite-a-man child

With a sudden wave of yearning

Life lies before him, a wide-open field

Ripe with lure of learning

Smiling and coaxing the dreamer to dream

Merrily splashing in life’s endless stream

Not yet restrained by the tempered truth

That experience withholds from tender youth

I turn off the doom-and-gloom news story

Saying, ‘son, you can be anything you want to be’

© Janet Martin

I told Emily that I'm trying to see the beauty of dough floating on grease...the pay-off was in the moans and sighs of bliss as they tasted the fruit of their labor...one of them said they didn't know anything could taste this good!:) Victoria reminded me that treats are those things you don't do very often...that's what makes it a treat!

Doughnut Recipe

Irreplacable

 

I tried to find another word

To tell you how I feel

One not so common, often heard

Yet still honest and real

I tried to find a word to spell

The oceans in my heart

And hurricanes within the knell

Of parting’s priceless art

But when I weighed your soft-half grin

The barracks where you let me in

The half-breath longing in your sigh

Wonder that dwarfs time’s little sky

The second look and second mile

Forgiveness uttered in a smile

Something so old yet ever new

Compelling us to remain true

Then, when I tried to compensate

With lesser words something so great

I failed for one cannot improve

The fathoms spelled in this word: Love

© Janet Martin

There is no other way
to properly say,
'I love you'.

Anew...Thoughts of a Mother

 

Stunned anew

By the staggering wonder

And boundless proportions of love

She could not relinquish them

But for the knowing

That Love intercedes from above

Awed anew

By the tenure of heart-strings

Tender, yet potent and strong

Binding the love

Of mother’s and children

Wherever life leads them along

Buoyed anew

By the breath of a whisper

Brushing the ache in her soul

Love reassures

With gentle reminder

That He is in faithful control

© Janet Martin

I cannot imagine the 'letting go' as mother's send their sons/daughters to war...just now as my daughter said, 'bye mom, I'm leaving for work now' the breath went out of me in sudden wonder-rush of love.

Mercy-song...a Rubáiyát

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt  The Rubáiyát

The music of life’s fervent flow

Is bittersweet; now swift, now slow

The rise and fall of centuries

Surging, to melt like streams of snow

Hail, moment-tear, why do you rush

To tune the sphere of midnight’s hush?

I pause to hear your subtle sigh

Sparkle on daybreak’s dew-drenched brush

The virgin gleam of morning-spire

Throbs, a requiem of new desire

Replenishing our flagging vim

In cadences from heaven’s choir

Ah, agony of moment-mirth

Of shadows spilling on dusk’s girth

Where soon the dawn provokes the dark

And splashes grace across the earth

We lift our cups up, brave and high

To taste life’s honey from the sky

For soon its dripping melody

Will sweep in languid lullaby

The music of life’s second chance

Inspires us to dream and dance

Forsaking yesterday’s lament

To revel in hope’s moment-glance

Mercy and grace do not keep score

Kissing our failures through Time’s door

They tune their harps with renewed zest

And beckon us to sing once more

© Janet Martin

Snow Queen

Pastel silk scarves

Dangle somewhere

In dressing-rooms aloft

I wonder,

Does she pine to wear

Its ribbons, smooth and soft?

Her frozen crystal-

Gilded sash

Presses against her skin

It seems that she

Cannot unveil

Her colors sealed within

She cannot choose

A petal-gown

Of lavender and green

For now she bears

The weighted crown

Reserved for her; Snow Queen

© Janet Martin

Buses are cancelled. It looks as though we are going to attempt doughnut-making today. I promised Matthew and Victoria that on the next snow-day we will make home-made donuts. Matthew was astonished one day last week when I told him it is possible to make donuts. He wants to see how it works, so wish us luck. I have not deep-fried dough in years!

Of Hallmarks and Honor

No one but God beholds the field

Where our keen wars are fought

The clash of wrong and right concealed

On battlegrounds of thought

No fellow-soldier cheers us on

Though skirmishes are rough

Our battle is beheld by One

And yet, that is enough

The aftermath of mind-fought wars

Tenders its casualties

Into the crypt of Time before

Immortal victories

No pennants of fair fame applaud

Our fetes fervid and grand

Thought-valor is beheld by God

Our trophy in His hand

For none but He beholds the plain

Where conflicts wage and groan

As demon-enemies are slain

And armies overthrown

The medal of thought-honor gleams

Not from podium or shelf

But as our kind Captain esteems

The battle-ground of self

© Janet Martin

Thank-you Cynthia, for the Old Rugged Cross coaster.

Like Sand-castles

You slip away

Like sand-castles

Beneath my skin

Falling pray

To the surge

Of an ocean

Within

But now and then

In sudden

Ecstasy

I find the place

Where once you

Used to

Be

The rippling rush

Sweeping Time’s

Rampart

Can never wash

Your whisper

From my

Heart

J~

February Night Storm

He is not playful tonight; darkness reels

His venom pelts fiercely, glazing windowpanes

The silver-tipped reed of full-moon appeal

Shudders beneath his tempestuous refrains

No corner is spared of his seething rage

Growling he ravages, savage and grim

Like a hungry beast released from his cage

He lunges, snarling at the stark, naked limb

Spilling his scathing ice-shard repertoire

Enhancing the comfort of kind, kindled fire

Fly, little bird, to your hole in the tree

Hop, little bunny to thickets and brush

We will not challenge his cold mutiny

Stripping the fell of its calm, full-moon hush

Rock-a-bye girlie and sleep little man

This cold scavenger cannot reach your cot

Pull up those covers as snug as you can

Dream of sand-castles and for-get-me-not

For somewhere beneath earth’s frozen facade

Trembles the surge of spring’s bloom-dappled sod

Then let him vent, howling outside the door

Splattering dregs of his fury, snow-spun

Though now they humor his bold, burlesque roar

Soon they will melt in the kiss of the sun

Rattle the sashes and whimpering trees

Spew frozen threats from your blue-puckered mouth

Oh, harbinger of fragrant, buxom breeze

You cannot conquer the streams from the south

Somewhere the bondage of spring’s petal-fray

Will softly unravel and nudge you away

© Janet Martin

The windows are glazed in his temperamental dally between snow and rain.

It will be snow by morning. I can sleep now:) I wrote this while I was waiting for my daughter to get home from work. She arrived, (midnight) very happy to be here, the roads are heavy with the snow that fell before the rain/snow mix. The fire crackles, the wood-pile is replenished, we are warm and have so much to be thankful for. I pray everyone is warm, safe and dry tonight.

Goodnight.