Hide and Seek

Comb the air or troll thought’s deep

Scan the sweep of winter-tide

Trace it well for who can tell

Where a poem just might hide?

Linger in the boulevard

As dusk splays its farewell blush

Rise to taste time’s sacred haste

In daybreak’s first fleeting hush

Pause upon the shore of When

Now to Then has eager feet

Soon Time’s new will slip into

Vaults where age does not compete

Savor season-sentiment

Where the off-spring of a clock

Does not wait but strips the gate

Giddy with pink hollyhock

Comb the air and troll thought’s deep

Scan the span that stilly glides

To yon blue; dissect each hue

For who knows where a poem hides

© Janet Martin

Winter Gardening

We poke around in flowerpots

And spread out glossy centerfolds

Of photo-preserved garden-plots

We stroll paths lined with marigolds

And other dream-derived prize blooms

And in the transport of a thought

We resurrect from frozen tombs

The pleasure of forget-me-not

And daffodil waiting to spill

Its halos on a green-tossed hill

Where now the white of winter blows

And blankets beds of summer’s rose

© Janet Martin

Find more inspiration here and here

Since I don't have a garden-shed some 'tools of the trade' hibernate outside;-)

No Compromise

 No matter how badly we would like to hit 'rewind' on moments and change our response we cannot. Still, mistakes are not in vain unless we refuse to learn from them.

Sometimes we score...

 ...but more often it's slip-trip-get-up and try again.

This firm apprenticeship of Life,

This ever-learning, yearning strife

From its commencement wields a knife

Bent on shaping and making us

And with the brush of Night and Day

The Artist paints time’s gold and gray

Around us while we learn to pray

And say and do what becomes us

These appointments of rise and shine

Drawing us to Life’s Finish Line

Are ordered by a Hand Divine

Though we may argue, fret and fuss

The ebb and flow of dark to light

Holds more than time within its rite

Where hold-let-go arrangements cite

Lessons of life becoming us

…and thus, by our mistakes we learn

Through touch and tasting’s No Return

And our response to it; we earn

The right to try again, because

Though experience makes us wise

Still, its apprenticeship applies

To one and all; no compromise

In the art of becoming us

© Janet Martin

Moonlight Lullaby

Golden moon o’er yonder hill

Soft your tune of slumber spill

Like a cello aria

Play a mellow Kumbaya

Blue on blue back-drop exhales

Soulful lullaby regales

Where the throw of night is spread

With soft starlight overhead

Hard-edged noise and workday rush

Melds into the solemn hush

Of a lamp-lit lullaby

From a cello in the sky

© Janet Martin

Thursday Thoughts on Money, Money, Money

Money, for all it may posses

Can never buy us happiness

***

Money, for all that it may boast

Can’t buy the things that matter most

Love,

Joy.

Hope.

Peace.

Forgiveness.

***

I’ve yet to see a shopping spree

That satisfies our Want

Money, the root of evil wields

And endless, endless taunt

***

We cannot serve God and mammon too

We are either servant or slave

Our life, the mirror we look into

That reflects what we crave

***

A diller, a dollar, on hill er in holler

A teacher or scholar are we

A pocket of penny-like moments to spend

Before eternity

***

Stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff

Tell me, when is it enough?!

***

It is not the amount we give

To coffers of earth

But the heart we give it with

That decides its worth

***

Come, let us reason together

If money is the idol of greed

We should not be so bent to keep

More of it than we need

***

Money and Time, We never have enough, or so it seems

Yet it is the giving of both of these that our Lord esteems

***

The only things of worth

That surpass these few days we live

Are not the treasures we stockpile on earth

But only what we give

***

We all should learn to take

We all should learn to give

For both have much to teach about

The way we ought to live

***

Pray, that our goals are not controlled

By the dollars we crave

The rich man and the beggar

Are equal within the grave

***

If we would be wealthy in what matters most

Then we would be wise to seek God’s Kingdom first

What good is vanity’s asset and boast

Where Time’s Soul-goal cannot be reimbursed

***

Lord, you perceive the heart of us

Where skin does not reveal

Full truth, yet those who love you first

Cannot Your love conceal

***

So let us consider

To what end we amount

…a most important matter

Of giving account

© Janet Martin