Ballad of Br-r-r-r

From this...

to this...

...within an hour!

Waist-deep stripped maples are rooted in white

Day-silence broken by stiff, creaking limb

Combing the air for sweet, softer respite

Naught do they find but a gale, grey and grim

Over a landscape of freshly-frothed cold

Dawn draws brief shadows in shivering gold…

We dream of green, not to pocket or spend

But that of carpets rolled out to the sky

When will the snow-dregs their last tiding send?

They spill fresh flurries in frigid reply

Combat is timid save for chimney flute

But the wind scorns its anemic dispute

Jack Frost has show-cased his art over-time

Though once he startled and awed still-life plot  

Now, how we covet the zeal of a rhyme

Dappled with violet and forget-me-not

Sallow sun bleeds through bleak, boreal blue

Before snarling storm snuffs its wick from our view

Where is the ballad of brook-song and bloom?

Where the affections of sun-kissed caress?

Is there a balm for this ice-stricken tomb?

Will gentle zephyr stroke Hope’s budded tress?

But as we reach out with numb finger-tips

Wild Old Man Winter roughly kisses our lips

© Janet Martin

Without a Kiss

How oft you come to me

And ring the morning bell

Then just as oft you slip away

Without a kiss farewell

You reach across the dark

To draw its veil ajar

Then soon it seems, soft you dissolve

Behind the evening star

I never can foretell

What nuances you bear

Or how your Master will design

The colors that you wear

But ever faithfully

Each morning you appear

To satisfy the waking hour

With laughter, song and tear

Then just as faithfully

As overhead the sky

Deepens, soft, soft you disappear

Without a kiss good-bye

© Janet Martin

We Love our Boys...

We love our boys.

Their noise,

Their toys,

Their vim,

Their grin,

A

Mother’s joys

Yes, we love our boys.

Be it

Mischief or

Mirth unfurled

A boy is surely

God’s smile

To the world

We love our boys.

…tomorrow’s men

And as those shoes

They don

I pray within them still

A little bit of boy

Lives on…

© Janet Martin

Matt loves to tease...his sister and his mother;)

(yesterday after school)  Matt; Hey Mom, what was the celery for in my lunch?

Mom; To eat.

Of Knowing and Seeking...

Lord, may it never be enough

To know You love me so

But keen my heart to seek You, Lord

In spite of what I know

Oh Lord, make me to hunger

Even as You fill my need

Lest I grow lax and simply feed

To satisfy my greed

My Lord, I know You promise

You will uphold the weak

Oh, do not make me strong enough

That I no longer seek

© Janet Martin

The Way of Life

Honey, we cannot force the road that leads through circumstance

Nor rearrange the love songs written in its bitter gale

The way of life is not a highway flung from fate or chance

But ever runs through fingers of a Hand that will not fail

Who knows what lies beyond the blush of morning’s waking hour?

The paradise of fortune is a fragile house of sand

The way of life will dip and curve through thorny field and flower

Beneath its winding Unknown spreads love’s faithful nail-scarred Hand

How hard would be this journey but for hope beyond the grave

How putrid were life’s prize if at death’s door it fell away

The way of life unfolds and we its offering must brave

But ever still a higher Hand cradles both gold and gray

Uncertainty is Wisdom’s gift that draws our boast to prayer

Honey, we cannot sidestep or desist the miles to come

The way of life is not a footloose free-fall to nowhere

But leads to where we’ll touch the Hands that led us safely Home

© Janet Martin

 Thus says the Lord: Stand by the roads and look; and ask for the eternal paths, where the good, old way is; then walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls...Jer.6:16

Kindred Souls

To touch you in this way,

To feel you there…somewhere

Beyond my window-pane, we meet

And scale hope’s common stair

The passion of a poem

Is like no other rush

Save for the artist as he spills

Thought-oceans from his brush

There are no walls out here

Let blood and ink collide

We stroll the star-strung atmosphere

And trace its turbid tide

For we are kindred souls

As heart to heart we’re held

Within the motion of a poem

Where ink and music meld

© Janet Martin

Soon Time Forgets

Dusk like a gentle mother

Gathers the day to her breast

Tucking its remnant blue blanket

‘Round little dying day’s nest

Somewhere by firelight flicker

Mothers and children play

Before bedtime stories and lullabies

Whisper frayed fragments away

Soft, like the notes of a ballad

Dripping from ethereal holds

Twilight falls over the planet

Deeper and deeper it folds

Soon time forgets this blue hour

Soon morning ruffles the air

But now, like a gentle mother

Dusk folds its fringes in prayer

© Janet Martin

Bluer and bluer dusk covers the day...

Fresh February Wishes

Ah, fill my cup with summer’s gold

These lips are numb from drinking cold

And let the blue unmingled be

With naught but sun-diamonds on sea

Then let this winter-land delight

To be shaken from robes of white

I yearn to join the eager child

Splashing through green with wonder wild

Glad, unencumbered, let it be

As river-madrigal runs free

Breathe soft into the sleeping dell

Tickle the ice-encased blue-bell

Ah, transform slope to sterling show  

Sweet sunshine, warm away our woe

And if it’s not too much to ask

Please, put some petals in your flask

Unfold upon the cheerless sky

Lilting of lark and butterfly

Stir within earth’s love-laden womb

Every bud waiting there to bloom

…and fill uplifted cups with gold

Long, long we’ve drunk these draughts of cold

Then end our season-suffering

Let every chalice brim with spring

© Janet Martin

I didn’t get any response from the sky so far; only the wind puffing snow-swirls ‘cross the field, so I pour a cup of ‘fresh’ mint tea with leaves we harvested last summer.