Perplexing Parallels

  

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New and Old align

The ‘perhaps’ with the done

And all things new are but the vine

With which the old is spun

The Old precedes the New

The new for its fine boast

Cannot replace the tried and true

Of things that matter most

From fancy’s faceless air

Deception weaves its trance

The newness of its untried fare

Entices us to dance

The staidness of the Old

Though lack-luster and bent

Has borne the test where New unfolds

Its shimmering content

Perplexing parallel

Experience and Youth

Yet New with footloose unfledged will

Cannot mutate Old Truth

© Janet Martin

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Eccl. 1:9

Harbinger of May

April rushes in with her mop and broom

Splashing the landscape of starched umber-gray

Washing the bleak world of winter’s foray

Smiling then scolding, she sweeps through each room

Billowy breezes, refurbishing rain

Rinsing and fluffing, industrious mirth

Flinging wide sashes and shutters of earth

Troubadour armed with May’s flower-refrain

April, oh maiden of moody melee

Vexing the tulip with winter’s recoil

Testing, perplexing the planter of soil

Singing and laughing and weeping with glee

April, fair maiden of dexterous touch

Harbinger of lilacs, daisies and such

© Janet Martin

Today we are finally getting a taste of April's warmer side!

The Pleasantness of You Against my Thought

 

The pleasantness of you against my thought

Makes sweet the hours that otherwise are not

Winter’s despair is gentled by the show’r

Bathing the bud and nudging it to flow’r

We could collect life’s failure and its woe

But darling, tell me, what good would it do?

I choose the pleasure of the touch of you

The past is done; none can its threads undo

The future, with its muted mystery

Does not adhere to the heart’s fantasy

The pleasantness of you against my thought

Redeems the sullen void of what is not

Worry and woe align their hopeless schemes

Attempting to dismantle the heart’s dreams

The raw and useless curse of sad regret

Employs its demons, ah, lest I forget

But then, like mercy’s misty morning dew

I reach to touch the gentle thought of you

The imminence of all that yet is not

Cannot compete with you against my thought

© Janet Martin

Everyone Needs to do their Part

 

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For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Everyone (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “Everyone Thinks I’m Crazy,” “Everyone Knows the World Is Round,” “Everyone Needs to Leave Me Alone,” or whatever it is that everyone is doing (or not doing).

We should not leave for others to do
What can be done by me and you
What a lovely world this world would be
If we all did our part willingly

If we all gave a little more
Instead of stiffly keeping score
If love was our motive freely unfurled
Oh, this would be a wonderful world

Everyone needs to do their part
We are the painters; love is the art
If each of us would do our best
This world would laugh with loveliness

Janet Martin

The Cast of Consonants and Vowels...

 

April PAD Challenge: For today’s prompt, write a casting poem. Casting can take on several meanings, including casting a spell, casting a line (such as in fishing), casting the actors in a play, and I suppose even the act of creating a cast.

How mute they seem
Unadorned, still
Caricatures
Of ink until
They are cajoled
Teased, twirled and then
What pictures fill
A poet's pen

Janet Martin

Giddy with Joy

How grand t’would be to taste again

That simple giddiness of joy

Beaming in anticipation

Like that of carefree girl or boy

How fair and perfect is the glee

Of childish laughter’s innocence

How I covet the purity

Of youth’s unclouded ambiance

The thrill of being young again

Fearless; dancing on dream’s ahoy

Brimming with buoyant rainbow bliss

Of childhood’s sweet, unblemished joy

© Janet Martin

Victoria was absolutely BRIMMING with anticipation this morning. Her class is surprising a student teacher with a farewell party on her last day.

Our Haste or Hour-haste

Come, said the green meadow, all giddy with gold, 

Wage feeds the body but I feed the soul.

Ah, emerald rush beneath the sky

Coaxing, inviting us to lie

Beneath the sweep of aural blue

But we have too much work to do

The pattern of an hour’s haste

Forbids us to be still and taste

Ambrosia of rain-washed breeze

Or spring’s sun-swaddled fantasies

The blue hills taunt from skyline shores

The green field beckons and implores

That we should come, wander awhile

Where gentler things of living smile

Ah, emerald rush of spring’s glad green

Here Mother Nature is a queen

Inviting pilgrim’s, one and all

To feast in her grand banquet hall

We ought to heed her pleasant plea

Climb to her lap of luxury

We ought to take the time to kneel

Beneath the grace of Bezaleel

The head, though it may be so smart

Should heed the whisper of the heart

How pitiful to sadly waste

A lifetime, bound by hour-haste

© Janet Martin

The Way of a Poem

 

…that’s just the way it is

The bending of a wayward breeze

Tugging at spring’s first emptiness

Or where the rains beat down all day

Tonight, a sudden quietness

…and somewhere there within the air

An earnest, umbral undertone

Murmurs against the solitude

Unwilling to be left alone

It dangles, spirals, somersaults

And even when I close my eyes

It reaches deep within the heart

Pulling its strings with tender sighs

Until I follow hungrily

To place my thought within its will

Where it hovers perplexingly

One breath beyond my readied quill

Then, as I turn to walk away

Words spill, like school-children at three

Pushing, rushing, a fevered fray

Of passion and timidity

All in a hurry to get home

You silly, thrilling little Poem

© Janet Martin

...or that's the way it was just now...I turned to go to bed and this silly little thing insisted, 'write me!'