While Others Seem Unbothered...

OctPoWriMo day 7 prompt: Instead of writing about something that is different, a time when you wish you were brave, let's talk about something you wouldn't change.

 

(image courtesy of google) 

While others seem unbothered by the whispering of  Muse...

While others seem unbothered by the tether of a pen

I’m glad the yoke of poetry is laid across my heart

We cannot always choose our dues among this race of yen

Where calls to drink from kegs of ink fills quills to spill in art

While others may seem freer in this merchandise of clocks

Unbothered by the twist of half-kissed thought begging for rhyme

I’m glad to bear the constant care where whispered Dare unlocks

A vault to worlds that break the barriers of touch and Time

While others seem to cruise, while I stutter like one deranged

And while they are unbothered by the slur of sound and light

I wouldn’t trade this weight of words waiting to be arranged

In poetry; we cannot always choose the wars we fight

This humble task where heaven’s flask, unstoppered, fills the air

With possibilities of poetry leaves one quite awed

The common mien of pen and ink unveils a sacred stair

Here poets climb; from time to time they touch the hand of God

© Janet Martin

I Recommend Mornings

 

While every breath of a new day is 'new', there's something about morning that feels newer of all!

New morning muddles through puddles of mist

I'm glad to be here and watch its fresh-kissed

Face grin as God grants Time another chance

And plants the air with the song of its dance

I recommend mornings; what is more grand

Than a page unmarred laid on this scarred land

Where Time, though unsevered is quickly cast

From future to present to Ever-past

Soon morning's splendor surrenders to noon

Soon it is swept from time's threshhold; its tune

Lost in life's shuffle, muffled by the noise

Of Duty and laughter and middle-day joys

But now morning splashes through puddles and mist

It draws back the sashes; night fades when kissed

And I'm glad God covers the Past with His grace

As morning soft-tumbles from His embrace

Janet Martin

 In the morning, LORD, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly. 

Ps.5:3

To Our Wondering Ways...

I watched with a tinge of envy as round and round he went...through the forest of flowers, pausing every now and then to gaze at the colored spires.

The Painter plays with shades of grays and blues

Offsetting gold over moldering deep

Vermilion and persimmon-flavored hues

Rouse downcast eyes to skim earth’s singing sweep

How small we are when looking up, how tall

This world of wonder is above our noise

How somber-sweet the deployment of fall

How riveting the death of summer joys

Sometimes we climb so that we can look down

On places that grace us with looking up

Sometimes we are astonished at the gown

That clings to the surface of time’s wee cup

The canvas of new day waits for our touch

The touch of its Maker fills our gaze

And we are glad that He loves us so much

And spills His wonder to our wondering ways

We come to expect it; wonder-full

We come to covet certain certainties

God does not disappoint; his earth is full

Of wonder-woven, season-cloven trees

© Janet Martin

Are the trees turning yet? We ask and watch and wonder anew at Nature’s Changeless Ways…

Tell Me...

Oh,

Tell me

Without words

Darling, how much

You really love me

 Sometimes silence says

Much more than words

Oh, tell me

How you

Feel

Don't
Touch me
With whispers
Let your fingers
Do all the talking
 For I am famished
But not for words
To tell me
About
Love

Janet

OctPoWriMo

Syllable-Pattern; 1-2-3-4-5  5-4-3-2-1

If I Could Change Anything At All...

OctPoWriMo Poetry Prompt:

What in your life do you wish was different?

Oh, If I could change anything at all

I’d slow down the clock in summer and fall

Then, when the heaven of it bids good-bye

I’d hit fast forward and winter would fly

Oh, if I could rearrange just one thing

Winter would lend half its ration to spring

But if it’s full allotment must needs be

I’ll pleasure its torment with books and tea

I’ll pour second cups and let the gales rage

I’ll see the world by the turning of page

While winter does what a winter must do

I’ll board book-frigates and read my way through

© Janet Martin

Pattern; 10-syllable lines

Where Summer Fell

From time’s loom tumbles russet thread

Red, bronze, amber and persimmon

Before it weaves brown, brittle leaves

To what no hand retrieves; Bygone

We grapple with its arabesque

Where what is woven disappears

Half-Poems crushed and gently brushed

To wash the world in leaf-shaped tears

I want for naught but to embrace

This petal-portioned push and pull

Lest, like summer its gossamer

Unravels in spice-pumpkin tulle

From time’s loom tumbles tick and tock

In russet, gold and cinnamon

Where no one can persuade its clock

To still what it is bent upon

...and every tree, a leafed belfry

And every leaf a tolling bell

Awaits its turn to fill the urn

Of no return where summer fell

© Janet Martin