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.

  

Friend or Foe

If you look to pin-point my faults and flaws

You will find quite a few, I fear

But if you are looking my way because

You want a friend, I am here

***

The critical eye is greedy and cruel

Preying on weakness and dirt

He fills his plate with envy and hate

And a scoop of gossip for dessert

***

Love knows we are not perfect

Yet is willing to suffer a bit

To get to the flower, it suffers our thorns

And love’s us in spite of it

***

Life has a myriad of things it will send

But none takes the place of a really good friend

***

A really good friend is life’s most cherished gift   

When burdens grow heavy friends give us a lift

They know without asking what they need to do

Life’s burdens are lighter when carried by two

***

I do not ask for wealth of gold

But simply this, a hand to hold

And when I come to this life’s end

I’d like to know I was a friend

© Janet Martin

Morning Prayer

Lord, let me look

Not into the morrow

Straining to suffer

A shadow of naught

Sufficient this day

Is its joy and sorrow

Life’s benevolence

Tenderly wrought

Lord, let me seek

Not tomorrow’s treasure

Of provision, strength

But oh Lord, I pray

Open my eyes

To love’s moment-measure

And render to me

What I need today

Lord, let me trust

Not buckling beneath

Burdens of worry

Trouble and despair

But Lord, let me journey

One foot then the other

Content in the moment

Because You are there

© Janet Martin

It's a Beautiful Life

The ebbing and flowing of night-morning brings

Mistrals of change wielding Time’s subtle knife

Carving the familiar with new-normal things

But still, it’s a beautiful life

Heart-fringes grow ragged, tenderly tuned

To ripples disguised in life’s surface-borne strife

Keening awareness of moment-drops spooned

Into the cup of a beautiful life

Babies reach, rush to an unformed allure

Soon son or daughter becomes husband, wife

Discovering in time love’s fierce tug-of-war

Shaping this beautiful life

Spring, summer, autumn to winter once more

Moments spill potent and ruthless and rife

Life-song of heart-throbs bleeding on vague shores

Silver-soft echo of a beautiful life

The rising and falling of Time’s gavel brings

Heart-wrenching changes beneath its grim knife

But still in the discourse of its sufferings

Oh, it’s a beautiful life

© Janet Martin

 Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it. Prov. 12:25

Let's cover this day

Layer over layer

With the rarest refrains ever heard

Let's spill on its gray

The tender-sweet showers

Of beautiful, kind, loving words

On some days we need to look a little harder, but its there; The Beauty.