Of First Snows

It's true about the outside work, isn't it? When there's a soft layer of snow, I have a sense of peace because there's not leaf raking, no gardening. But then the thicker layers of snow will come and we'll be thinking about shovelling!!! Let's just enjoy things as they are while we can!

See you Wednesday,
Kelly

Above, an e-mail-reply from a friend who wondered if I would mind watching her little girl (aka'I he'p you) an extra day this week. I told her that is fine. As soon as the snow comes I feel a lot less busy because the outside work is officially done! What is not done will wait:)

Her reply inspired this poem. 

(Sorry for the slightly more inconsistent posting times lately.

...looking after lots of 'littles' these days. 

They are resting right now:) 

 Since I am not like some Victorias I know that turn completely giddy at the first snowfall, I plant a flower in front of it;-)

But snow does have its highlights...more reading time (hopefully!)

More time for things like making bread...more on this later, maybe?

Across the girth of earth soft-spills

A heavenly release

As Quietness sweeps deeps and hills

In white tidings of peace

The slip-slap beat of flip-flop feet

Seek socks and slippers now

Their muffled scuffle bittersweet

As November’s first snow

…while urgency of out-door chores

Eases its anxious quest

Beneath a splurge of shattered stars

Fall's snuffed appointments rest

…and landscapes, stark and dark and bleak

Are bright with white caress

Save for the onyx-winding creek

A sash on winter’s dress

As first snow sets the heart ablaze

With long-forgotten looks

It turns a kinder, gentler gaze

To hearth and storybooks

…where we are not too lonely then

For when the cold wind blows

We turn to patient kith and kin

Waiting for winter snows

© Janet Martin

Time Waits For No Man

PAD Challenge day 20: For today’s prompt, pick a popular saying, make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

Never early, never late

Mystic moment-metered gait

Does not hurry, does not wait

Free-for-all free-falling

Second-minute-hour-day

Week-month-year; it ticks away

When it ceases none can say

Elemental calling

Here it is and there it goes

...and here it is; it never slows

Composer of rhyme and prose

Metrical arrangement 

My, we sigh, 'how Time does fly'

Hello, we say, then goodbye

Morn-noon-night colors the sky

Momentous estrangements

Feel it, hear it, touch it, taste

It is too precious to waste

Never falters, never hastes 

Season follows season

Unequivocal design

Articulate pantomime

Moment-manifesto; time

And it waits for no one

Janet Martin

I began this poem much earlier...then Time got away on me😀

Port in the Kitchen

PAD Challenge day 19: 

For today’s prompt, write a poem about a commonplace location.

From here I watch 

as seasons change 

the scenes that sweep the yard

and climb the hills 

to touch the sky 

(and heartstrings of a bard) 

I see the morning 

as it breaks 

through bars that cannot hold

(though walled with starry legions)

lakes of blush 

and gray and gold

From here, midst pots

and pans and sinks 

heaped high with post-meal ilk

Midst noise of

little girls and boys

and laughter-spills...and milk

From here I grasp at time

To twist to rhyme 

its glint and glance

Because nobody knows

how long until

It stills its dance 

The pendulum that

metes our days

no mortal eye can see

From here I sense
the subtle ways

of almost-history

While wiping crumbs from tables

and wrestling

with weight of word

Attempting

to snare from the air

The shape of Something Stirred

The stomping ground 

of Seasons

unleashes a soundless surge

It thunders in ears, fingertips

 as ink 

and murmur merge

From here,

While supper simmers

or while morning lights the lea

This corner of my kitchen

Is a port

for poetry

Janet Martin

Adapting To The New...

PAD challenge day 18: For today’s prompt, write a poem that uses the following six words:

 band,  logic, pack, web, froth, clean

The band that held the day at bay turns blush rosé then new-day blue

The Hand that lends Time's fresh-heaped tray defies the logic of man's view

The grace that succors human-race washes the face of follies clean

Threads diamonds to the webs that trace the place where green-leaf froth had been

The pink-kissed mist that drifts above the vale grows pale, then disappears

We pack then unpack hopes and dreams, adapting to new moment-spheres

Janet Martin~
  

 

Seraph-song...

But I will sing of your strength, 

in the morning I will sing of your love; 

for you are my fortress, 

my refuge in times of trouble.

Ps. 59:16

South Sudan is experiencing desperate 'times of trouble'! 
please, can you join in praying for them?

I cannot divulge much detailed info due to safety and privacy concerns but there are five families who NEED our prayers right now! 

God knows all.

She veils the dale with silver scarf

Her halo, ether gold

Soft seraph-song above the earth

Of New breathed over old

She, from a place that none can trace

Unfurls time’s purest form

And from a crypt, dark-lipped, her face

Unravels a grace-storm

Without the noise of much ado

She seeks no fame or praise

A silk, dew-slippered Seraph who

Begets from death, new days

© Janet Martin

Right Here, Right Now...

 So, what does your right-here-right-now look like?

...ours is a sea of late day gold slow-rolling over the countryside 

We should not wait

For That Great Call

Before we choose to serve our King

Right here, right now

He bids us all

To use our gifts to honor Him

Not in some far

And foreign field

Are they who labor for the Lord

Right here, right now

He bids us yield

Lest we forfeit The Great Reward

Not for the fine

Or fittest, no

Nor only for the brave of heart

Right here, right now

He bids us ‘go’

For He fits us to do our part

He calls us all;

Not only some

Will we surrender to His will?

Right here, right now

We bids us ‘come’

His Great Commission to fulfill

© Janet Martin

No Two Alike

 

Morning, 

 

Then noon,

 

Then night,

...But never,

Ever,

Any two

Alike

For all life’s

Repetitious ways

There are

No two

Identical

Days

© Janet Martin

Aren’cha glad? ;-)

'cause even life's best days

wouldn't taste quite as sweet

the second time around 

whether its days...

or people...

...or *purple play-doh pals

....there are NO two alike!

Ever.

* it began with one, then 'make one for me too!' 

then balls of play-doh shoved at Janet with  'make more, make more'!

(When the balls started becoming marble sized I suggested a few more big guys 😉)