Every Day is Earth Day

Today is Earth Day in Canada.

 When I grew up the environment was never mentioned, but remembering to care

about what God placed in our care was...to be love-driven to do something is the only motivation with staying-power! Ultimately it is the lack of love that makes a mess of everything...

Our greed for ease and speed

Our bold and heedless ways

Wore thin the grin of Mother Earth

And Her sustaining ways

This dollar-driven breed

Would bleed her pockets dry

Her ‘Greenpeace’ groan cannot atone

For those who do not try

How beautiful the world

That God placed ‘neath our care

A grand, spherical miracle

Where we should stop and stare

…and be mindful of this;

The very air we breathe

Depends upon how we respond

To Mother Nature’s grief

© Janet Martin

What can we do to help?

Slow down.

Live simpler.

Plant a garden.

Cut back on garbage.

Make meals from scratch.

Skip pre-portioned, prepackaged and buy bulk.

Spend time, not money.

Spend time, not money.

Spend ti…oh, right! I already said that;-)
Shop thrift stores and save resources, money and maybe a life because
the proceeds from those stores help the needy!
My mother and grandmother's thriftiness and frugality
would startle even the most avid recyclers:)
In a large family it was necessary.

Forget It...

I'm pinin' for a pic-a-nic:)...after browsing through my Picnics book today.

Forget place-settings,

And wishes

And worries

Pack dishes but only

A goblet and plate

Forget to-do lists

Remember

A basket

Pack it with Simple Fare

Then climb that old gate

And find a kind willow

The grass, a green pillow

Spread out a big blanket

Then unwind...slo-o-o-w sigh

...and forget

What makes you fret

Break brown bread, sharp cheddar

Tip high thy filled goblet

And toast the blue sky

© Janet Martin

Word Art

Writer's Unite is hosting a Young Writer's Event on May 6th @ 7:30 p.m.!

We are excited to excite the next generation with the wonder of words...

If you know an aspiring young writer invite  them to join us at

 the Studio Factor, Drayton

With words we paint wisdom...

...and memories...

...and seasons...

...with words we paint poetry!

We paint with words,

We build with words

We sketch and dream, the rush

Of finding

Grammar-magic is

Paint on a poet’s brush

We write the sky

The land and sea

The heart, and oh, we find

There’s something

Quite unrivaled in

The painting of the mind

© Janet Martin

Neither You Nor I...

Writer's Digest PAD Challenges day 21: For today’s prompt, write a poem that responds (or somehow communicates) with another poem. 

I have felt it fill the sky
Strum the night with umber sigh
I have heard it's lone-song cry
After it has shaken
Every leaf from autumn's limb
I have heard its grief-toned hymn
Murmur where summer grows dim
I have seen it waken
Hills from winter's chilled repose
Rills when April's zephyr blows
I have felt it kiss my nose
After winter's passes
I have danced in phantom arms
Laughed at its ethereal charms
Wondered at its formless storm
Tossing maple-tresses
 I have seen the aftermath
Of his tantrums strew the earth
I have heard his howl and mirth
Romancer and rascal
But I've never seen his face
Never seen the feet that chase
Seasons through his blue embrace
...or is it soft purple?

Who Has Seen the Wind?

 By Christina Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,

The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,

The wind is passing by.

Full Many a Glorious Dawning I've Disdained...

Writer's Digest PAD Challenges day 21: For today’s prompt, write a poem that responds (or somehow communicates) with another poem. 

The sun peeked out to say 'good  morning' then disappeared behind a shroud of gray... 

 Ah, yes, thy dress doth not thy merit tell

The inward veiled while outward we behold

Thy gray approach, cold yet ephemeral

Beneath thy somber coat, a heart of gold

Thus, mouth of mine, do not with complaint scorn

Nor brood whilst moody morning scales the air

For thou has tasted many a dew-glad morn

And thou hast wasted many a morning fair 

Wilst we dare charge the Maker of dawn's robe

With our demand? The sand on which we stand

Is numbered in His gaze; He cups the globe

Of gold and gray within his faithful Hand

Where many a morning we have barely glanced

At heavens where the feet of angels danced

Janet Martin

Response to Shakespeare's 

Full Many a Glorious Morning Have I Seen...

Full many a glorious morning have I seen

Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,

Kissing with golden face the meadows green,

Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;

Anon permit the basest clouds to ride

With ugly rack on his celestial face

And from the forlorn world his visage hide,

Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace.

Even so my sun one early morn did shine

With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;

But out, alack! he was but one hour mine;

The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.

Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;

Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.

Pink-Blue Benediction

Soft-swept to earth’s far-west hem

Ebbs the dimming day

Pale moon-pinioned diadem

Tucks its noise away

We, sojourners on Time’s sod

Pause to drink the view

Hallowed handiwork of God

Purpled pink and blue

Dusk spills velvet madrigals

Over land and sea

Where day’s benediction falls

Into history

© Janet Martin

 It is good to praise the Lord
    and make music to your name, O Most High,

proclaiming your love in the morning
    and your faithfulness at night,

Ps. 92:1-2

This Business Called Living

It’s a tough thing, this business of living, especially when you put a God whose ways are so far apart from our own at the center of it. 

Billy Coffey 

This business of living where one hand gives

As suave as the other steals

And vexes the heart with guesses, my sweet

On what the future conceals

This business of holding on while letting go

Of learning the art of good-bye

While braving the thrill of a brand-new hello

In spite of love’s tear-stung eye

This business of laughter, forgiveness, regret

This balancing act of love

This wake and sleep window of sunrise and set

Winnowing Time from above

...this business of knowing that there must be more

To living than this fleet chase

Causes us to consider, nay implore

From Holy God, mercy’s grace

© Janet Martin