Irrevocable Allotment

 This is last year's 'first gold'. It's been too cold for Nature's first gold  this year...

Irrevocable, the reel

From whence returns green appeal

Where the hub of yesterday

Bore its beaming bud away

To mud-meadows, brown and gray

Irrevocable the reel

Irresistible, the gold

That the looms of bloom unfold

Where beneath the tread of hours

Autumn shed its final flow’rs

April, blessed April show’rs

Irresistible thy gold

Irretrievable the day

That has drained its drops away

We should make each moment count

Swift, the gift that fills time’s fount

Where none knows its full amount

Irretrievable the day

Irreproachable the Hand
That bestows Farewell's demand
Benevolent genesis
Mystic metamorphosis
Shaping what was from what is 
Irreproachable the Hand

© Janet Martin

Glad

PAD Challenge day 10: For today’s prompt, pick an emotion, make it the title of your poem,

 Photo Source

Someday, I sighed to Victoria yesterday,as we watched the shadows lengthen at the Masters in Augusta Georgia, we too will have long, blue shadows on green, green grass...

Glad, glad that bad days pass

And in time's hourglass

The tide that brings

Those 'why-shaped' things

Holds laughter-dappled grass

After life-storms relent

And its havoc is spent

Glad, glad bad days 

Become the haze

Beneath blue skies sun-rent

Glad, glad when we are sad

And wish for what we had

That in the flask

Of Mercy's task

Wait new ways to be glad

 © Janet Martin

For you make me glad by your deeds, LORD; 

I sing for joy at what your hands have done.

Ps.92:4

I Don't Envy Them...Much

I don’t envy them much

But every now and then

The lightness of their step reminds me

Of those days Back When

The touch of tick and tock

Can brush away the years

As if time was a raven lock

That deftly disappears

I would not turn it back

Even if I could

Ah, youth, the truth of what we lack

Will soon temper your blood

Mostly, with high esteem

I live what grace will let  

But sometimes I envy the gleam

Of dreams not broken yet

© Janet Martin

It struck me as my son walked toward me yesterday, 

...the bounce of youth, 

the gleam of dreams.

 

New Again

After dark the daylight comes

Minstrel music from the sky

Over scrim of soldered tomes

A fresh page of patience sighs

After dark the morning wakes

Ether force naught can withhold

Like a rising wave that breaks

Washing mount and moor with gold

After dark earth is a lark

Singing in the sun or rain

As time’s wayfarers embark

Where the day is new again

© Janet Martin

Inspired by the previous poem

After Dark...

The mind is a drifter after dark

It strides the rift twixt Will and Was

And roams through eons without pause

Where star-song strews yon raven arc

The mind is a merchant after dark

It sorts and weighs the prose and pawns

Of letting goes and holding ons

It scales the heights of night, soul-stark

The mind is a hunter after dark

 Stealthy and suave, it targets hearts

Its quiver filled with acute darts

This archer does not miss its mark

…over the hill, the street and park

The noiseless ink of midnight spills

Into the willingness of quills

The mind is a poet after dark

© Janet Martin

A Doodle Poem...

PAD Challenge day 8: For today’s prompt, write a doodle poem. In my mind, I’m thinking of how I like to doodle when I’m talking on the phone or sitting in a meeting. I used to doodle in my classes when I was younger. So for a poem, I’m thinking this could start off as something small that stays small or builds to epic proportions. Doodle around a bit today. If needed, start by describing something close at hand or within your current field of vision.

 I drew my inspiration for 'doodling' from Robert's opening comments today:)

'Just show up', he said, 

So I did, 

Stood on the snow-dusted April bridge

(or was it a stepping-stone)

ah well, 

sometimes it isn't easy to tell

where hello and farewell 

eddy and swirl

in steady arrival 

stealing yesterday's girl

and startling her 

starry-eyed gaze

with ways 

of 'yes' and 'no'

that turn into days

that turn into seasons

that soon season tears

with bobble of blue-bell

and daffodil cheers

...a fleet of petals

on a sea of years

where a new day smiles

and beguiles the heart

to start again

...ere the work of art

that eddies and swirls

through the skin of dreams

drains the last drop

and stoppers the streams

where even 

the most robust 

or fair

are

winnowed 

to 

whispers

upon 

the 

air...

Janet Martin

Urban-ite

PAD Challenge day 7: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Urban (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

Then, when the earth wears black and heaven is a sequined ream

When remnant duties of today become tomorrow’s dream

Then, past the dying breath of dusk like ember’s waning gleam

When time has bent its daily death across croft, hill and stream

...and night is like crushed velvet, dark, soft, like the slipping year

Soft as a rush of echoes brushed and shaped into a tear

Soft as the world a-slumber save the poet pioneer

Then, when I should be sleeping too, I think of you, my dear~

© Janet Martin