In Good Hands

PAD Challenge day 8

For today’s prompt, we’re on our second two-for-Tuesday prompt. So pick one, combine both prompts into one poem, or write two (or more) different poems. Here are the prompts:

• Write a nothing will be the same poem. A poem about moment after which nothing will ever be the same, because everything will change. Or…
• Write a nothing will ever change poem. Maybe you’re in the camp of “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” So while things change, they don’t–not really. Or do they? How can things change and not change? I’m confusing myself.

In the broad sense nothing changes

Winter follows fall

But on smaller scales, love, nothing

Stays the same at all

Time’s incessant night-day circuit

Gleans with rise and set

Rock-bottom and cloud-nine gifted

Milestones we forget

Birth and death; earth’s grand game-changers

Reminds us of this;

Nothing, no matter how humdrum

Remains like it is

When we look into the mirror

Old as we may be

Point and fact becomes much clearer

In the face we see

We cannot go back, my darling

Time runs but one way

Fortune is the simple learning

To cherish Today

Futile to fear or cling vainly

To what years estrange

Better to embrace The Daily

Hinged to constant change

Dawn is like a flawless rhinestone

Blazoning from space

God, its faithful Giver never

Alters love and grace

© Janet Martin

 Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.
Heb.13:8

...so, no matter what happens today,
we are in Good Hands!

On Learning How To Walk...

 Every Friday Miss "I he'p you" comes to my house...

This past Friday, as we headed upstairs so she could 'he'p' make the beds and vacuum

I asked her at the foot of the stairs, 'are you going to walk ahead of me or behind me?' and she replied without an instant's hesitation,

'I going to walk beside you'... 

What joy this walk of life will be

If we with meekness recognize

Mercy-metered ability

Then cut our footsteps down to size

Then we will not run on ahead

While others lag, beg, broken, tried

But we will pace our race instead

To walk life’s journey side by side

© Janet Martin

 He has told you, O man, what is good; 

And what does the LORD require of you 

But to do justice, to love kindness, 

And to walk humbly with your God?

Micah 6:8

After 'he'p' we rest;-))

These Better Days We Hold...

The earth is clad in capes of leaf

And draped in shapes of letting go

Aesthetic appeal cloaks the grief

That comes with knowing what we know

…how even in the grin of it

The sting of it is ever nigh

And everything we hold a bit

Is but the prelude to good-bye

Thus, we cannot afford to haste

Or waste these better days we hold

For fear that we forget to taste

The full flavor of growing old

Time’s spartan grace of clock-faced ranks

Urges us with humility

To touch time's coattails with sheer thanks

At such an opportunity

© Janet Martin

The Fall of Leaf

 This fragile hold of thinning gold can run the heart full-through with grief

The beauty of each joy we love falls prey to ways of waning leaf

Like leaves that fall to deck the stage

Of places summer’s footsteps stirred

The poet pines to deck the page

With essence of loss hardly heard

To snare its sigh from dwindling tress

To bare the cry in human breast

To will to form the silent storm

And bleed its evidence to word

The heart is oft its own decoy

While caught in halos of leaf-gold

It trembles, torn twixt grief and joy

And staggers ‘neath the weightless hold

Of love that will turn into loss

Of longing, love’s sure albatross

Where like a vine it soft entwines

The steadiness of growing old

The random places that we go

From here to there and back again

Where bud dissolves in golden snow

And fills earth’s halls with muffled rain

Where we dance, held in ties that bind

And shawls unraveled by the wind

The poet’s sighs immortalize

The fall of leaf in ink refrain

© Janet Martin

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia

PAD Challenge; day 6;  For today’s prompt, write a phobia poem.

They give him a fright; 

His big-for-his-age height

Is small in the face of this roster;

The June spelling bee

An alphabet-enemy

That turns long words into a monster

Janet Martin

hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia; noun; fear of long words