That Sets a Poem Apart

Words can say anything

That spills from the heart

But oh, it’s what it makes us feel

That sets a poem apart

…from regular ramble

Of shaped Abc’s

A poem is an ocean

Caught on a breeze

Rush of hurricane

Without a sound

Thunder of teardrop

Crushing the ground

It’s childhood revisited

It’s sweet coming home

It’s loss, love and longing

Wrapped up in a poem

It’s a hug when we’re lonely

Its beauty on air

It’s ‘hello, my Darling’

And ‘don’t touch me there’

Want turns to wonder

And wonder halts time

As heartache and hunger

Are quaffed in its rhyme

For words can paint pictures

In mind-numbing art

But oh, it’s what it makes us feel

That sets a poem apart

© Janet Martin

It's March

It’s March and soon its melting song will fill our eager ears

As all across the country-side its white coat disappears

And crocuses begin to press toward the warming sun

It’s March; the month where we declare that springtime has begun

It’s March; and how our spirits leap to laugh those glorious words

And how the pulse of gardener quickens as dirt-dreams are stirred

To tangible fruition as we look at seeds and thrill

Before we revel in the marvel of new blooms about to spill

It’s March and soon the junco on the snow will fly away

As drip-drop notes and sunshine gloats on winter’s last foray

At last we’ll open windows, shake the dust from curtained rooms

While singing songs of rain and sun to wake earth’s slumb’ring tombs

It’s March; the tree limb stripped in fall is decked in ruby gem

And winter’s mourning madrigal is moping on Time’s hem

Before the jostling zephyr and its chortling melody

Abolishes another winter to Vast History

© Janet Martin

I’m ignoring the forecast for this March of ‘it’s going to be a lot like February’…

 Okay, so this is March 1st. Can't wait to see what transpires between the first and last day...

 ...broken nature has a lot of healing to do!

It's Saturday

It wakes us

In snuggling whispers

To softly say,

‘Don’t rush up yet,

…no need to hurry,

It Saturday’

While nudging to-do’s

Begin nagging

She smiles

And reminds us

It’s Saturday

Relax for a while

And we ease up

On the bustle of

Routine ranting pace

Because it’s Saturday

Laughing nugget of

Week-end grace

Of second-cup coffees

And pausing

To feel

The pleasure of moments

Dripping from

Time’s reel

Before the demands

Of another week

Yanks us from sleep

For now

It’s Saturday

‘Fuzzy slippers,

Girl curled next to me’,

Let’s make some muffins’ morning

And memories to keep

© Janet Martin


Enjoying an argument with her brother while he makes pancakes...I think they are on argument #3 since this pic;) good times!

Someday...Summer

 Watching this mega snow-blower thinking; Dear Summer...

Someday you’ll tumble through wide-open windows

Filling our laughter with sparkle and sun

Spilling your pink petal-mirth on the meadows

Where now a sonnet of snowflake is spun

Someday the highway will wind like a ribbon

…ebony shimmer of dreams to the sky

Come, gentle wind, won’t you hearken our bidding?

Lavish the air with a warm lullaby

Someday the front porch will wear kool-aid kisses

Now it is frozen in winter respite

While we dream of things the summer-heart misses

Lost in an ocean of white over white

Someday we’ll fling back these cold, frozen sashes

Thrill to the trill of your long-waited charms

While reveling in golden warmth as it splashes

Over the windowsill into our arms

© Janet Martin

Blue-collar Heroes

 

Image source

Blue-collar brave-hearts

They’ve got no medals

No badges on their

Coat-sleeves or lapels

Working class warrior

Seeking no glory

Fighting life’s battle

And doing it well

Obscure battalion

Work-force deployment

Wielding their armor

Of steering-wheel, cart

Low-dollar hero

Invisible valor

Witnessed by One

As they give from the heart

Courageous convoy

Gallant and glorious

Punching the clock

While nobody applauds

Silently sacrificing

Over and over

Second-mile soldiers because

This is love

Blue-collar brave-hearts

They’ve got no medals

No black-tie gala

Or work-hand trophy

Working class heroes

 The pulse of a nation

Fighting the battles

Of life faithfully

© Janet Martin

This is a modified re-post going out esp. for those on our winter highways and streets; patrols, truck-drivers, bus-drivers, crossing-guards, post and parcel delivery,snow-removal crews,hydro-workers and everyone trying to get to work on time!

Hang in there and Thank-you to our invisible heroes!

This Roller-coaster Rubric

Record highs and record lows

This will be the way of dust

But in spite of ebb and flows

Fear seeks faith; in God we trust

Sequences of rise-and-fall

Roller-coaster rendezvous

Surge-receding madrigal

Hallelujahs rival blues  

Gold and gray perplexing skies

Hearts weep as we hold-let-go

Still we scan our sweep of sighs

Count our blessings, not our woe

Season-rubrics vexes sod

Step by step we test its dust

Clinging to a changeless Rod

As we go; in God we trust

© Janet Martin

This morning the news speaks of record lows in temperatures and record highs coming for gas prices…We look up; in God we trust.

A slow warm-up will not be a bad thing; without it they predict drastic flooding.

Thursday Thoughts on Things Unknown

So many things uncertain, unknown

But one thing we know;

‘There’s no place like home’.

(Just had an e-mail letting us know Dad came home tonight. He was picked up this morning, came through an awful storm to find the roads closed to their home so they(mom and dad) went to my brother’s house until this evening. As he was leaving the hospital a nurse smiled at Dad and said he has the ‘breaking free’ smile. I’m sure tonight home is even sweeter though he rested well at Dave and Karen’s house.)

***

If we dwell on thunder-clouds that might unfold

We miss every joy-drop of mercy we hold

***

We cannot see beyond the moment slipping through our touch

Treasure, taste and reverence it, then leave the rest to God

***

Yesterday is over

Tomorrow; a maybe

Today is almost

A memory

***

Fear is a mountain

Dread is a stone

Faith is our foothold

Into its Unknown

***

Disappointment is always a present-past thing

Unknown is the hope to which we cling

***

We all are students

In the school of life

We didn’t know yesterday

What we do tonight

***

If I knew all I wished I knew

Of things Unknown and hidden

Then I know that what I know

I’d likely wish I didn’t

***

It is better to work with what we know

Than worry about what we don’t

Some things in time their proof will show

And some…I hope they won’t

***

If all that was left is what we know

Anticipation would lose its glow

***

How far the Unknown goes, who knows?

But this we know for sure

One life, one death, then the God we chose

Our soul-place will secure

© Janet Martin

Winter Evening and Other Things...

Piano notes clunk, plunk ripple and trill

Earth is refurbished with winter-white chill

Kettle is humming and ready for tea

Tomorrow hovers with its mystery

Dinner is over and daytime is too

Dusk drops its cover in frigid gray-blue

Today tucks memories into its fold

Tomorrow never tells what it will hold

Windows are dappled with icy chagrin

Outside the blackness of night settles in

Media repeats latest news-events

Tomorrow’s secrecy never relents

Retrospect ponders, wind wanders dark wood

Bible reminds us that still God is good

Telephone rings, we put dishes away

Tomorrow waits to become our today

© Janet Martin

We were discussing just now how it is good we don’t know what a day will bring…Who knew dawn-semi-calm would result in an all-day blizzard!?