Safe As A Bank...for the moment!

PAD Challenge Day 5; For today’s prompt, write a private poem.  

Has the rapidity of your pulse

Stirred you to think

There’s more to these eyes

Than just their wink

To tell it all

Is indeed a temptation

But some secrets are best

Left to imagination

So, don’t look so nervous

About what could be revealed

Though the details are juicy

My lips are sealed

...for now😏 

© Janet Martin

Tired of Hearing How Old I Look ;-)

PAD Challenge day 3: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Tired of (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

Dear Mirror.

I’m tired of hearing how old I look

For the sake of vanity, flatter

Time enough, my love, to embrace

The face-to-face Truth of the Matter

© Janet Martin

Tired of Dusting 'Stuff'

PAD Challenge day 3: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Tired of (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

Sometimes I get tired of dusting so MUCH stuff, I remarked to Victoria as we cleaned today...
"yes", she said. "Me too, but we like 'stuff'! It's full of happy times...."
...books, tea-cups, pillows, old records, toys for little boys, you know???
'Stuff' makes it homes 'homey!'

I’m tired of dusting ‘stuff’

That life and love collects

But still, I will keep most of it

For what ‘stuff’ resurrects

To reacquaint myself

With happy days gone by

An echo-land upon a shelf

Of yester-you and I

I’m tired of dusting ‘stuff’

Yet everything I touch

Is like a memento of sorts

Of afternoons and such

Where much more meets the heart

Than that which meets the eye

Where ‘common stuff’ composes art

In frames of days gone by

© Janet Martin

Of Melded Miles...

This morning's moments held much to smile about...
(the best part? He patted the floor and wanted Grandma right there beside him
to share in the delight of anything with wheels😊)

Then morning melded to noon,
and noon to night

Night’s raven wing has gathered

Earth’s brood beneath its bars

The ash of tears and laughter

Strewed to a roof of stars

Ebony whispers suture

Its miles where moments meld

To Past’s vast cast of pictures  

In Thought alone beheld  

© Janet Martin

Of Muted Musicale...

A riot of full color

Falls quiet in the woods

Beneath the dwindling arbor       

Of autumnal postludes

…as layer over layer

Leaf-lyrics lie, subdued

A prelude to the Player

Of Winter’s Interlude

© Janet Martin