More Than Impressions

http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/

Occasionally, in this temple beneath strolling cloud

Away from the jostle and shove of the crowd

I worship, as night recedes in slow-motion.

It is no accident, this moment in time

Though darkness may clutch this temporal clime

Light can move through shadow, a soundless ocean

Dispelling the gloom beneath the sky

As the bustle and chat of passers-by

Consumes this tranquil breath upon the sod

I look up; the sacred silence is beginning to wane

Outside these walls, day must begin again…

To toil, to shop or play on this quest to death and God

Janet Martin

Thank-you Viv, for this delicious combination of words.

There are so many directions in which they could lead!

Ode to a Rainy Eve

The cold rain hastes the ending of a day
The dark pine moans within its weeping knell
The landscape dims in folds of cobalt-gray
Beneath the tolling of the evening bell

The absence of the lusty cricket choir
Magnifies the musky sense of gloom
Hovering o’er the garden’s silent bower
Heavy with the parting of its bloom

Now fades the sky-line in the gathering eve
And now the dark and daylight intertwine
Until the dark prevails; light slips beneath
The edge of dusk on the horizon line

The night lies dormant in this solitude
Save for the leaf clinging with muted breath
To sodden arm of birch or maple wood
Before it sleeps in cradles of the earth

The cold rain hastes the ending of the day
Profluent sonnet drifting o’er the lee
As remnant sighs of summer slip away
To grace the silent shores of memory


Janet Martin

This is another rain poem I posted recently...
The rain stirs my muse,
I love the rain:)

Fingertips...

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/09/thursday-think-tank-67-rain.html


The rain plays a muted song tonight
Fingertips, gray, pummel out the light
As wind-tattered fragments of my day
Waver momentarily and then slip away

The silence is warm and easy with you
Thunder rolls, the lightning white-blue
Illuminates stark images, rigid and black
My finger-tips brush across your back

The night settles around us in a drawn-out sigh
Reaching the perimeters of the sky
Fingertips whisper, plead, implore
Waves gather somewhere on a forgotten shore


Janet Martin

When I saw this prompt after an all-day rain today,
I could not resist!

The Field at Dusk

Beyond the gold-fringed day
And shadows obtuse tusk
‘Neath misty scarves of silver-gray
Lies the field at dusk

A thread of centuries
Is layered in its palm
Time’s ruthless progress cannot steal
Its effervescent calm

I pause to contemplate
The measure of our toil
Swift season over season laid
With faith that plants the soil

And here the lark returns
To tune the summer dust
And here the brawny farmer learns
Of hope and tears and trust

And here the young maid strolls
Her eye a-light with dreams
And here the silent night consoles
The heart where sorrow gleams

And here the bully day
Releases its duress
And here we humbly kneel to pray
In tender thankfulness

Beyond the gold-fringed day
Midst sighs of dew and musk
Heaven is not so far away
In a field at dusk

Janet Martin

Perimeter of Paradise

I lay there
In the middle of the field
Or was it the edge of the sky?
And I let time pass over me
Like a butterfly in search of nectar
God’s arms smell of pungent earth
And imminent rain
Today His eyes are blue
With flecks of gray
Life’s hurt is dim
And far away
As nature’s hymn
Consoles somber woes
In thoughts of Him
Heaven holds me close
In strains of clover-sigh
And meadow-lullaby
I am completely aware
Of nothing
But awesome silence of a prayer
Passing from my heart
To His
Undeterred by the expanse
Of emptiness
Twixt the carpet
On which I lie
And the infinity of His eye
As I lay
Beneath the whisper of butterflies
On the perimeter
Of paradise

Janet Martin

It's a grand feeling,
lying in the middle of a field
in the middle of nowhere
beneath the middle of an endless sky...

Like Fields of Grass

The morning wept
As fingers swept
Summer from the sky
A moody knell
In torrents fell
As if to quite defy
The hope which waits
Beyond far gates
Through which fair summer slips
Melancholy,
In minor key
Bleeds from dark somber lips
The ache of you
Is wild and blue
So close, then far away
A bitter tide
To coincide
With summer’s parting day
The silence of
Requited love
Sleeps in earth’s darkened fist
A tiny seed
Of hope and need
Still waiting to be kissed
Time’s quadrille turns
The heart still yearns
For dreams vague, undefined
As seasons pass
Like fields of grass
‘Neath heaven’s changeless mind



J~

Victoria looked out at the rain, remarking that the day looks sad…

A Tiny Breeze...

A tiny breeze upon the air
Tugged my hand and teased my hair
Then drew my eager feet along
A trail of multi-layered song
Of corn-field carol and cricket trill
And maple moans in wooded rill
Past gathered gardens’ tangled maze
And echoes of a dreamer’s gaze
Of autumn creeping o’er a field
Where summer bounty spilled its yield
In centuries beneath the sun
A gasp, a wink and it is done
While new dreams plant the trampled sod
Beneath the faithful hand of God
And reverently I kneel upon
The footstool of love’s changeless One
For He ordains in perfect time
Each season’s rhythm and its rhyme
Of painted sky and purple hill
The plaintive cry of whip-poor-will
The tender limb of verdant grace
Before time leaves its tender trace
In kisses wrought by sun and rain
Of joy and laughter, grief and pain
For life cannot remain for aye
In meadows where soft breezes play
…a tiny breeze upon the air
Tugs my hand; teases my hair…

Janet Martin