Spring's Goddess

 

 

Sunday Wordle #58: blur, cocoon, tongue, brittle, burnished, flinty, scrape, rough, barnacles, austere, drenched, chalk

The flinty glare of winter recedes to a blur

The rough, brittle limb and austere, burnished fields

Are drenched in the ravishing textures of Her

As in countless shades Her abundance she yields

The cocoon-bud breaks open in Her verdant embrace

Barnacles bloom beneath Her florid brush

She is a tongue of emerald grace

Scraping winter’s chalk-lines from hills fair and lush

Earth is a ball-room of aureate bliss

Softly we touch the robe of this queen

For beauty and blossom unfurls in her kiss

She is spring’s goddess and her name is Green

© Janet Martin

The Sunday Whirl~

Scarlet-echoed Breath

Image Source: freedom.portwallpaper.com

Oh, have we savored it today?

Inhaled its glorious air

Or have we paused a bit to pray

And thank God for His care?

Perhaps we’ve thought of those who fell

To look against the sky

With fading breath; the cannon’s knell

Their victory lullaby

Have we, as through our lungs it pours

In scarlet-echoed breath

Have we remembered blood-bathed shores

Of horror, pain and death

And are we filled with gratitude

To stand among the free

Inhaling this most priceless gift

The air of liberty

...and have we bowed in earnest prayer

to plead with God above

that we do not hold lightly here

this freedom that we have

© Janet Martin

Love's Sacred Knot

The tie that binds

Oh, sacred thread

Woven by Holy God

As vows unite

Two hearts to one

And ties love’s hallowed knot

The tie that binds

No hand or pen

Its tenure can annul

Oh, precious cord

Secured by He

Who gives the knot its pull

The tie that binds

Love’s cherished bond

Of truth and faithfulness

A shackle

Not of cumbrous weight

But trust and tenderness

The tie that binds

Its filament

No human hand can sever

The tie that binds

Husband and wife

As God joins them together

© Janet Martin

The Ties that Bind...Don Williams

Non-optional Juxtaposition

We are teachers;

We are students

Someone is watching

when we least expect

Action is speech

It tests our fluent

creation derived

of alphabet

Action is merely

a thought’s reflection

Thought is formed

by what we absorb

We teach while we learn

A juxtaposition

of far-reaching impact

we cannot ignore

We are teachers;

and we are students

No one escapes

this practical truth

We are never too old

to cease our learning

yet we become teachers

in tender youth

…for there is always

somebody following

observing the choices

we thoughtlessly make

Action speaks volumes

Love and compassion

are beautiful legacies

we cannot fake

Action is merely

a thought’s reflection

The wise man endeavors

to keep this in mind

for when we don’t expect it

somebody is watching

and thought is the medium

in which character is defined

We entertain

either angels or demons

in thought’s mystic cell

where only God can see

But sooner or later

as thought becomes action

Truth is revealed

In clarity

© Janet Martin

Mary's comment bears repeating!

...So true, Janet. We probably teach many in our lives when we don't even realize we are teaching! And many who are our teachers don't realize their role for us either. And then, of course, there is the Great Teacher who teaches the greatest lessons of all.

Settlements~

 Image Source; Clark Little

We settled back against the night

Drinking in the luxury

Poured from the flask of half-moon light

The wine of blue tranquility

We did not speak but understood

Instinctively the others thought

Oh, I would hold you if I could

But I am here and you are not

J~

Life's Sweetest Luxury

 

I have known life's sweetest luxury

Child's hand in mine

Asking for nothing more

I have known life's greatest entrustment

Child's hand in mine

Asking for nothing more

Janet

Of Gray or Golden

We cannot beg the little day

To add another hour

We cannot plead the bloom to stay

When it has ceased to flower

We cannot urge back to the stem
The petal that has fallen
Or taste youth's fair springtime again
To dodge the grip of autumn

We cannot un-speak uttered things

When it has once been spoken

Nor undo yester’s offerings

Of moments bent and broken

We cannot return to the past

To touch the gray or golden

But we can give our utter-best

To moments we are holding

© Janet Martin

Timeless Madrigal

No instrument, minstrel or crooner

Can imitate, or compete

The low, melancholy languor

Of this melody, tender-sweet

Into deep-hushed charcoal hollow

Over moon-gilded plateau

It rises and falls at my window

Now restless, now moody, now slow

No violin quickens the pulses

Like its haunting madrigal

A ballad of longing and losses

Wanders earth’s somnolent hall

It curves quickened notes in an ocean

Clutching love’s bitter-sweet thought

A solo of dissonant emotion

Soothing, yet searing the heart

There is no other song equal

In lyric, in measure or rhyme

No composition to rival

This hymn since dawning of time

Over the graceful willow

And earth's silver-blue diadem

Over the tear on my pillow

Croons the wind-song of one a.m.

J~