Trees at Dusk

Like stalwart sentinels they stand

To guard the waning day

Their shadows stretched on muted land

Enfolding work and play

Dark, raven spires reach to brush

The portals where the moon

Lolls in the periwinkle hush

Of day’s retiring swoon

Silhouette, precisely-sketched

Against the crimson dusk

Their flawless detail clearly etched

In shades of dewy musk

Faithful, four-season master-piece

Of intricate design

Timber art rivets our gaze

To dusk's horizon line

© Janet Martin

Visitor

Image Source:  http://www.wallpapers-free.co.uk/background/nature/flowers_and_plants/yellow-and-purple-pansies/

He loved pansies

So she plants them

Over his heart

Every spring

No one sees her

Kneeling there

Replaying

Life’s brief dance

With him

Grief never tires

Yet, it is not

Love’s revenge

But its bittersweet harvest

Pansies flourish

‘neath the tears

Of heaven

And one lone

Visitor

© Janet Martin 

Prompt: Visitor

Invisible Visitor

No sound of footsteps on the floor
No tender arm around me
No slightest creaking of a door
How is it that you found me?

My eyes are open wide as day
I know I am not dreaming
I cannot turn my face away
The silent air is teaming.......

.....with images and memories
and whispers soft and flowing
How is it that you come to me
Within the twilight’s glowing?

And how, with door and shutter drawn
With locks all firmly bolted
How is it that I look upon
you now with longing jolted?

Too long, too long I've missed you so
I draw your arms around me
Tell me dear, I need to know
How is it that you found me?

J~

Prompt Poetics Aside Visitor

Black

 My brown book-cases were looking tired...I woke them up with black paint. I know this is a corny take on the prompt but it really was all I could come up with for now, having been immersed in black paint for the better part of a week:) Blame this on the fumes;)

Does your furniture need a face-lift?
Here's a plan of attack
Simply grab a brush
and paint it black

***

Don't know what to wear
to the party tonight?
If you choose black
You will always be right

***

Once I was a young thing
With heart still intact
But scars are a cruel thing
Invisible black

***


# 1 Song on June 7 1966 Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones...NaPoWRiMo Prompt; Use the # 1 hit on the day you were born for inspiration.

Think Spring

 

From This..

 

                                                    ....to this

Victoria and I were inspired by Megan yesterday:)

There is an essence of eternal spring
in little girls...
There is an essence of little girls
in the laughter of eternal spring.

Sweet is the carol
Of the robin's spring lay
Sweeter the orchard
decked in fragrant display
Are you heavy-laden
Lift your arms to the wind
Dance in the ball-room
Of beautiful Spring

Janet Martin

Whose There?

Knock, knock

Whose there

I open the door

But it’s just the night air

Knock, knock

Who could it be?

Misery loves

Company

Knock, knock

I guess I knew

Without looking

It was you

J~

Poetics Aside prompt; Visitor

Dear Yester- Girl...

Sometimes I wonder who you are

You seem different

Not at all like you used to be

Are you me?

Or just someone I used to know?

I’d ask you in for a visit

To get to know you better

Coffee, is it?

Or have you switched to tea?

You never can tell, these days

Sometimes I wonder who you are

And I want to know you better

But you keep inching toward the door

And all I can do is watch you go

...or do you even exist anymore?

Have you left for good, dear girl?

Being a woman is fine

But I must confess, I miss you

Dear, carefree, laughing

Yester-girl of mine

© Janet Martin

Poetics Aside PAD Prompt: Visitor

...and sometimes I wear a Cape

Image Source:  dannys-angel.deviantart.com

I must not neglect

To don this cape each day

It helps me rise above

Come whatever may

Within this cape I sense

A glorious super-power

A genuine defense

In life’s most troubled hour

One day I rose without it

Despair and fear loomed tall

Then suddenly I heard it

A Super-power call

I felt Him wrap about me

No ephemeral thing

But, a cloth that’s kindred

To the angel’s wing

The unbelieving call it

Fantasy on dead air

The believer whispers humbly

And simply calls it Prayer

© Janet Martin

Poetic Bloomings prompt; ..and sometimes I wear a cape