Tidal Wave...the Fibonacci reversed

 image source: asugnews.com

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt The Fibonacci

Gregory K. Pincus created Fibonacci poetry, as a 6-line poem that follows the Fibonacci sequence for syllable count per line.
The number of syllables in each line must equal the sum of the syllables in the two previous lines.
So, start with 0 and 1, add them together to get your next number, which is also 1, 2 comes next, then add 2 and 1 to get 3, and so on.
Fibonnaci: 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, and 21…
Poetry: 1 syllable, 1 syllable, 2 syllables, 3 syllables, 5 syllables, 8 syllables, 13 syllables, and 21 syllables…
More Info:         http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fib_(poetry)

Night.
Dark
And still
Vast abyss
Of moonless silence
Where thought in rampant perusal
Of sable infinity fills to the uttermost
A chasm, which to the naked eye appears empty and devoid of motion or impulse
Yet surges with under-currents of potent passion
Rising in voluminous waves
Of raging appeal.
This night is
Not dark
Or
Still

© Janet Martin

Though Autumn is Folding...

There is peace in The Knowing

That in life’s keen bestowing

Whether of nature, of body or soul

There is a Keeper

Whose visage runs deeper

He sets the pieces creating The Whole

Though autumn is folding

The frames we are holding

And youth-fantasy, like its leaf falls away

Time is a teacher

An earnest beseecher

Molding and shaping our doubtless decay

There is peace in The Knowing

In life’s moment-flowing

We are not pawns in a God-game of chance

But He knows each creature

For He is life’s Teacher

He knows our hearts and its deepest intents

Though autumn is folding

To vaults in Time’s holding

And moments fall soundless; as leaf to the sod

We trust The Keeper

Whose visage is deeper

As He sets the pieces; for He is God

© Janet Martin

Of Blessing Overlooked

Dictation of duty, though modest its mien

Of dishes and laundry and rooms to keep clean

Of clutter to tidy and meals to prepare

Remind us of love’s blessing abundant and fair

How sterile and still a mother’s life would be

Should duty and daily demand suddenly

Vanish with the menial tasks we mistook

As tedious toil; they are life’s blessings we too oft over-look

© Janet Martin

...but having said that, this morning reminds me how badly I need to 'train up my child or teenager' to clean up after themselves!

'M' stands for mother, not maid! 

It is Raining

The demeanor of earth is meek

Its bravado of scarlet-gold waning

Layers its splendor beneath our feet

Dawn remains dark; it is raining

The rustle of parched leaf and husk

Stills in the sodden breeze

Where thought is moody; pensive then brusque

Restless with memories

The dark bleeds into the day

Heavy with tears from the sky

Autumnal beauty is falling away

Stripping the earth of its sigh

Soon the weeping air will be still

Save for the sullen moan

Of winter’s groaning, grievous chill

Turning the sod to stone

The demeanor of earth is meek

Its glorious bravado is raining

In sodden petals beneath our feet

Dawn remains dark; fall is waning

© Janet Martin

Over-looked and Under-rated

The intimacy of being

Completely understood

Is far too often overlooked

And under-rated

Hold me darling,

Not in your arms

But in the gentle smile

Of understanding

The warmth of your gaze

Coupled with two words

‘I know’ are ecstasy unequaled

And contentment unrivaled

Then I am ready to hear

Those other words

I love you, I want you

I need you

‘I know’

J~

Velvet-soft Bliss

'Tis tender-sweet bliss

to be hopelessly caught

in the velvet-soft kiss

of a beautiful thought

'Tis a beautiful thought

to be hopelessly caught

in the tender-sweet bliss

of a velvet-soft kiss

J~

Monday Musings on Today

We cannot shift one jot of the past

Tomorrow, today will be iron cast

The only thing that matters,

in all we do or say

Is the keen awareness

of the value of Today

In Tomorrow nothing has ever been done

It offers no guarantee

Today is a precious and priceless stone

As we build history

Yesterday is the memory of moments shaped 

Today

Time is doled equally

To everyone

Moment by moment

And then

It is done

Triumph and regret

Are woven with the thread

Of today

Treasure and taste it

Oh, do not waste it

Today is a beautiful chance

To plant in its keeping

A harvest worth reaping

As we gather consequence

Time does not reimburse

One sigh or one glance

But graciously offers

A second chance

Janet Martin~

May you have a beautiful Today!

A Collection of Reflection

The pink twilight deepens to purple and blue

Folding to memory the lilt of its day

The half-moon, hazy above earth’s avenue

Garnishes gently its slipping away

Autumn-bold attire grows stark on the air

Etched in precision on fathoms of dusk

Amplified silence stokes woodlands soon bare

Tinting the quiet with sweetness of musk

We shield our thought from the clutch of Time’s haste

And savor the portend of what yet awaits

Beyond perceived skylines of south, west, north, east

We sense the turn of a grand Master Reel

Soon the glad morning will spread out its feast

A glitter of moments from Time’s phantom wheel

And we, lowly partakers of Love’s tender grace

Stumble onto its fresh offering of hope

All the while carried in its pure embrace

Stripping the splendor from autumnal slope

Memories layer, an invisible sheaf

Of laughter and sorrow, of gladness and grief

Darkness to daylight, life’s four-season fling

Duty, desire and love’s soft lament

From summer to autumn, from winter to spring

This is the fullness of earth’s little tent

As we, the sojourner in this forward flight

Though we embarked with the haste of fair youth

Suddenly revel in each season’s delight

For age spawns awareness of life’s ageless truth

Time is a flicker of fragmented boast

Life is the threshold to what matters most

© Janet Martin

This poem began yesterday evening, but constant interruption insisted that I will not write about the gorgeous ‘folding of the day’ I had just witnessed while driving out to pick up my daughter at a friend's, in great depth, but only in one stanza.

Stanza two; this morning before a hint of daylight I scanned the ‘perceived sky-lines’ provoking a new train of thought…but then suddenly it was time to get kids up, make lunches, drive hubby to work so I would not be vehicle-less for the week, and as I drove home slowly, reveling in the beauty of a sunny autumn morning stanza 3 took shape.

The result, a totally different poem from first intentions :); sort of a collection of continuous reflection.