Fond Farewell-Forge

We are always on the verge of Fond farewells,

but hallelujah, we are also always on the verge of Hello's unfolding rose.

Farewell is love's most Bitter Sweet!

How, after all the autumns 

Where spent leaf-laughter lies 

Does Time’s meted momentum 

Still take us by surprise 

After being buried in snow 5 days ago

this autumn summer is ever so much sweeter!!

Ah, manifest momentum 

Of seasoned gravity 

The swaying of a pendulum 

We feel but cannot see 

Over harvest-cropped landscape 

A wave of hunger heaves 

Farewell is always taking shape 

In the summer of leaves 

How, after all the autumns 

Where spent leaf-laughter lies 

Does Time’s meted momentum 

Still take us by surprise 

…to force the heart to wrestle 

With tides it cannot vex 

Where Farewell is a vessel 

Laden with what is next 

Life’s white heat on love’s anvil 

Forges fond farewell’s art 

But cannot touch or trample 

The showcase of the heart 

So, as we ponder hours 

Where farewell fills the room 

Remember, hello’s flowers 

Are bursting into bloom 

…to steep life’s dusk or autumn 

With wonder to behold 

Gilding the most commonplace frond 

In etching of pure gold 

© Janet Martin

the past few dusk's have been 

drop-everything-and-behold 

beautiful!

as earth's echo-land is etched in gold

To everything there is a season, 

A time for every purpose under heaven:

Eccles.3:1

There Is No Getting Around It...

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Matt.5:5

Pass Me Not Oh Gentle Saviour

No matter who we are

However great or small

There is no getting around it;

Pride goes before the fall

No matter who we are

However rich or poor

There is no getting around it;

God's promises endure

No matter who we are

Humble or full of pride

There is no getting around it

God's laws and love abide

Janet Martin

Proverbs 29:23
A man's pride will bring him low, but a humble spirit will obtain honor.

Matthew 23:12
For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

1 Peter 5:5
Young men, in the same way, submit yourselves to your elders. And all of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, "God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble."

Proverbs 16:18

Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.

Proverbs 8:13
To fear the LORD is to hate evil; I hate arrogant pride, evil conduct, and perverse speech.

Proverbs 18:12
Before his downfall a man's heart is proud, but humility comes before honor.

Proverbs 11:2
When pride comes, disgrace follows, but with humility comes wisdom.

I Wasn't Going To But...(The Futility of Excuse)

 PAD Challenge Day 6:

For today’s prompt, write an in medias res poem. 

In medias res means in the middle of the narrative. 

Or think of it as starting in the middle of the story 

instead of at the very beginning or very end. 

Like at lunch time or half way through eating your soup.

The Futility of Excuse

Confessions of four

the morning after

The sleepover...

Because 

it was 

 Halloween

because

it was

 Krispy Kreme

It was easy to eat

three or four

Because

They were airy

It didn't feel scary

to devour

a dozen

or more.

***

Confessions of a Housewife...

I wasn't going to

but the afternoon

was gold and blue

and the wind was

mischievous 

and flirty

So I stayed outside

and therefore 

that is why

the windows 

and floors

are still dirty

***

Confessions of Concession

I wasn't going to

but then

I walked, smack-dab

into a pen

It looked at me

so pitifully

I couldn't just

walk by,

could I?

For in a pen

trembles, hidden

A veritable

world

We'd never see

If everyone

just used a pen

for things like

trigo-

nometry 

So when 

that pen

with silent plea

looked up 

at me

what could I do

but try to free

the agony

of poetry

hidden 

from view

© Janet Martin

A Ruinous Affair

Why can't we learn from the smallest among us?!

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Matt.5:8

Because Writer's Digest has changed their sign-in format 

and because something (likely I am doing wrong) is keeping me out I am unable 

to go to or link to the page where other poets share their verse.

But the prompts are always a fun way to stretch the mind so, better late than never.

Day 5 prompt; For today’s prompt, write a ruin poem. 

The poem could be about visiting some ancient ruins. 

Or you could write about ruining a situation or ruining a recipe 

(I've done both plenty of times in my life).

 But perhaps you're like me and can appreciate the beauty in things 

others considered ruined. 

Either way, write a ruin poem today!

A more serious take on the prompt

The Road to Utter Ruin

I hate the way haters destroy 

What love would build and bless 

Hate ruins any hope of joy 

It strangles happiness 

Hate, evil in its basest form 

Can never work for good 

But reduces to utter ruin 

Where once a country stood 

A country is not made of land 

Its strength not made of steel 

But people joining hand in hand 

Where love alone can heal 

© Janet Martin

a less serious take...

A Ruinous Affair

You rush through me 

A mighty sea 

That no fingers can trace 

And ruin any 

Plans I had 

Toward the commonplace 

You disregard 

Rules, strict and hard 

Set by tick-tocking Time 

You forsake chores 

Without remorse 

For the sake of a rhyme 

You tease and taunt 

The seas of Want 

With adjectives, nouns, verbs 

A tidal wave 

That poets brave/crave 

And only Poem curbs 

You whisper where 

Others breathe air 

Your grand geography 

Is boundless as 

The universe 

Of Possibility 

You ruin the 

Ordinary 

With curious delight 

And make each day 

An escapade 

To What A Poem Might… 

© Janet Martin 

Change Is Not A Comfy Sweater

This post started while hanging out laundry

and contemplating Comfy...

One thing I love in fall is pulling out old sweaters

that have certainly seen better days

but have such a comfy, cozy coming-home feeling!

***

Change is definitely not a comfy sweater!

2020 has forced all of us into certain 'outfits' we would never choose

but must learn to adapt to, and wear!

***

Change keeps us on our toes...

Ballerinas poised on joy's highs and lows

***

Change yanks us from easy chairs 

to balance-beams

Thank God for books; yellow with age 

amidst change-fueled streams

***

Change is much more than a mirror

Playing back the view

Change is like a subtle shearer

Of sheep, and wolves too

***

Change is a symphony of Touch

Give and take synchronized

Look, while we try new shoes and such

It steals The Old we prized

***

Change; inevitable matter of Fact

Stretch if you must but keep Focus intact

Sooner or later, as change takes its toll

It will take all but Creator and Soul

 

***

Change is a strange, familiar thing

As common as a clock

Eternity hinged to a string

Thinned with each tick and tock

***

Tick-tock, tick-tock

If we could see 

Time's filigree unwind

With each tick-tock 

I think we'd all be

More humble and kind

*** 

Change sometimes makes me feel a bit like I am stuffed into 

An outfit snug and stiff, uncomfortable, brand new 

I’d rather wear something kind of threadbare but broken in 

Because I feel much more at home in Routine’s Rags, worn thin 

Change sometimes makes me feel like a child at a wishing well

Or middle-aging student learning how to read and spell 

Where familiar failures and successes are not enough 

To shield me from new guessing-lessons about life and love 

Change sometimes makes me happy but more often breaks the mold 

That feels like so much like my own skin, well-adapted and old 

Till estrangements and fresh arrangements stretch and test and try 

Change is a ladder to stars that keep falling from the sky 

© Janet Martin 

November Dawn Ballad

 

Psalm 59:16
But I will sing of Your strength and proclaim Your loving devotion in the morning. 

For You are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.

This is kind of a companion-poem to last night's November Dusk Aria

I leave the windows open for a little to breathe in 

A brittle postlude performed on November’s violin 

It plays the harvest-stubble and the almost-barren limb 

And fills this world of trouble with a Hallelujah Hymn 

Day breaks; a lake of pink and purple bleeds across the sky 

Where not so very long before it wore dusk’s lullaby 

Beneath the brooding keep of Love misunderstood, once more 

Through nuclear flues of starry deep Goodness and Mercy pour 

The landscape splays it naked shape before our gaping eyes 

The cape that draped its crooks and curves in scattered tatters lies 

As summer’s former glory bears the script Of Mice and Men 

Driving home Time’s Old Story we were told, much younger then 

November is a ballad played on stages bloom bereft 

Its melody engages audiences, right and left 

It awes us with the aftermath of flowered paths and such 

And causes us to trust anew The Kind Composer’s Touch 

© Janet Martin

Faithful One, So Unchanging

 

November Dusk Aria

Whiling the While till the supper crew comes home...

Something soft and gentle as November's early twilight mantle falls...

When dusk is like a painting on a pedestal of air 

When earth is reacquainting sod and sea with dimming flare 

When blush-blue velvet duvet shrouds the shoulders of spent day 

It seems a fitting homage to bow our heads and pray 

For never-failing grandeur from a Hand we cannot see 

He tucks November’s contours beneath twilight’s canopy 

And deepens with  sky-mantle, the ebbing landscape until 

Earth is snuffed like a candle on an autumn window-sill 

For articulate tugging on ties no one can define 

As dark of night is hugging dusk’s westward horizon-line

For sense of Gentle Presence staying just beyond our gaze 

Stirring in souls an essence when interpreted, is praise 

It seems fitting to thank Him as history claims its due 

In autumn-twilight anthem, for His never-changing view 

O'er nation against nation, He ushers in evening 

Fans feathers of compassion, tucks the world beneath His wing 

© Janet Martin 

Night Watch Jim Reeves

I Know Who Holds Tomorrow Allison Krauss & Cox Family

Hopeless Until...

Lots of opportunity to analyze all kinds of angles

today as we wait and wait...

because Canada cares!!

What is Man? Johnny Cash

When we begin to contemplate 

The motive for the want we wait 

For; when weighed in the balance of 

The three that remain; faith, hope, love 

When we strip worry down to size

To find Self its ultimate prize

Then when its offense is confessed

And Intention is reassessed

When we come face to face with 'I'

And all the truths that cannot lie

Then we acknowledge, we are dust 

Hopeless, until in God we trust 

© Janet Martin 

Psalm 8

O Lord, our Lord,

How excellent is Your name in all the earth,

Who have set Your glory above the heavens!

2 Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants

You have [b]ordained strength,

Because of Your enemies,

That You may silence the enemy and the avenger.

3 When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,

The moon and the stars, which You have ordained,

4 What is man that You are mindful of him,

And the son of man that You visit[c] him?

5 For You have made him a little lower than [d]the angels,

And You have crowned him with glory and honor.

6 You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands;

You have put all things under his feet,

7 All sheep and oxen—

Even the beasts of the field,

8 The birds of the air,

And the fish of the sea

That pass through the paths of the seas.

9 O Lord, our Lord,

How excellent is Your name in all the earth!