To He Who Fills The Rill...

Poetics Aside poem-a-day challenge Day 6:

For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. 

Praise a person; praise a deity; praise your favorite food. 

If you ask me, there’s not enough praise to go around in this world; 

let’s fix that today–with this poem. 

Praise someone or something, even if it’s just your morning coffee.

The first praise poem is to Faithful God...

Without the hope of heaven there would be no comfort for those who mourn!

 Our thoughts and prayers are with all those after the horror of this shooting

 "These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. 

In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world."

John 16:33

To He who fills rill, firth and fount with silver madrigal

Who probes the nucleus of seed soon heaped in harvest hymn

Who orchestrates the quartet of winter-spring-summer-fall

And breaks the bud that bleeds a lake of leaf-song from its limb

…who tunes tree-tress with zephyr-sigh and dusky lullabies

The choir He conducts is flawless in its harmony

Where assonance and dissonance captivates ears and eyes

Of onlookers dumbfounded by this Maestro’s majesty

To He who keeps kind order where chaos and carnage rage

He turns the page; a music-sheet of mercy mediates

Grace lights the wick, ignites the quick of new day to earth’s stage

While we wage wars of what and why, He never deviates

To He whose love will never fail though we wail; this world’s woe

Would be far more than we could bear without the word of God

The Overcomer of this World is greater than the foe

Thus He, Hope’s Holy Deity we extol and applaud

© Janet Martin

Destruction's Prey

Poetics Aside Pad Challenge day 5: For today’s prompt, write a self-destruct poem.

Tip that bottle that destroys

Happy homes of  girls and boys

Beats the shark at his own game

Marksman of folly and shame

Not the fruit that bears the blame

Tip the bottled mottled with

Toast of boast and prideful pith

Laugh; love's earnest caution shirk

Ruin does not rush its work 

Poured from gourds where demons lurk

Tip the bottle full of lies 

Drink The Master of Disguise

Revel where hell-devils play

Reeling in Destruction's prey

Truth will have the final say

Janet Martin

Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes
And clever in their own sight!
Woe to those who are heroes in drinking wine 
And valiant men in mixing strong drink, 
Who justify the wicked for a bribe,
And take away the rights of the ones who are in the right!…

Isa.5:21-23

Love Try-angle

November's Poetics Aside poem-a-day challenge 3.

For today’s prompt, write a triangle poem.



I
Am
Not too
Sure about
A whole lot of
Matter-of-facts of life

I
Do
Know
This; I am
Glad, my love, you
Picked me to be your wife

To
Try
To give
Our best to
Each day that we
Live is the best love can do

I
Hope
You can
Forgive the
rest with three
Little words, I love you

Janet~

Whosoever Believes

PAD Challenge day 4: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Whosoever (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Whosoever Objects to This Union,” “Whosoever Wants to Eat My Candy,” or “Whosoever Doesn’t Wash Their Hands After Flushing.”

Whosoever believes on Him 

No requisite but one

To inherit eternal life

When mortal days are done

...and whosoever will may come

And whosoever calls

Upon the name of Christ the Lord

Will be saved, one and all

Let all of we who thirst then come

And freely drink our fill

Salvation through God's only Son

Replenishes the well 

...whosoever hears the words

Of Jesus and believes

Is not condemned but through His blood

Eternal life receives

Janet Martin

Where Death Defies Lament

In Nature’s hand death defies grief

Its beauty undeterred

As lofty limb is weaned of leaf

And shadow-scrim is shirred

Where, though the lilt of summer green

Quilts earth with bronze and rust

It strikes a sacred chord between

The Dreamer and the Dust

…for Beauty does not bow her head

Or break beneath the toll

That drives the leaf-song to a bed

That harbours all but soul

As font of farewell fills the rill

With taunt of season spent

It draws the eye toward the hill

Where death defies lament

© Janet Martin

Cut Down To Size

Love lives given. 

Ann Voskamp (on this post) full of wow-moments

Sometimes it is supper waiting

Because someone had to work late

Sometimes it is nothing more than

Fresh baked cookies on a plate

It might look quite dull and common;

Laundry after dark so you

Have clean 'undies' in the morning

And a sock (if you’re lucky, two)

It might be a poem, oh but,

You think that’s a waste of paper?!

Well, then it might be as simple

As getting back up to set the coffee-maker

Or a dash to grab the phone be

-fore the answering machine comes on

…even though you miss the part when

I try to tell you where I ran from

Oft it travels incognito

Many a kitchen-mile, oh my

While it tidies, scrubs, wipes, whispers

Prayers into soup, muffins, pie

While it learns to learn a lesson

That it thought was taught before

While it sleeps with one ear open

Until it has heard the door

While it works for nothing more than

Hearing full-fledged laughter ring

As they sit a little longer

Before heading out again

While it makes the most of moments

Lest in haste it wastes pure gold

It is quite a thing to reckon

With echoes felled from its hold

It is second cups of ‘listening’

Even when to-do lists bark

It is voiced in humble taking

Out the garbage after dark

It might look like mundane nothing

In a lot of people’s eyes

But I hope you know it, darling

It is love cut down to size

© Janet Martin

To The Mister That Kissed Her With Years

Poetics Aside poem-a-day prompt 2:

For today’s prompt, write a disguise poem.

 

 

The hardest part of you is me

Grappling with awareness

Of what will never be

Again

The gladdest part of me is you

Whispering the kindness

Of dreams not come true

Yet

© Janet Martin

Author Incognito

Poetics Aside poem-a-day prompt 2:

For today’s prompt, write a disguise poem.

You’re a willow-whisper

A cut to the quick

Soft as a feather

And hard as brick

You stun us with wonder

Though you never change

The methodic manner

Of all you estrange

You are a padlock

And a door ajar

The ethereal bedrock

Of right where we are

You trick us with kisses

And kick us with love

Where your rite dismisses

The flight you approve

With your formless fathoms

You press and relieve

For, from you, my darling

There is no reprieve

You take while you’re giving

And grant, breath by breath

A gift to the living

Its warranty, death

You are fancy’s fodder

Of poem and rhyme

Yet author all order

You are Father Time

© Janet Martin