Gardening...or Life

It takes

Planting,

Patience

Pluck

Prop,

Prune

Wondering

Waiting

And then,

The bloom!

© Janet Martin

Still A Pretty Nice Thing

“Though marriage takes everything you’ve got and almost breaks you,

All in all it’s still a pretty nice thing”,

This was hubby’s analysis as he watched our nephew

And soon-to-be bride smile as they counted down the days to this Saturday.

It’s a give-all-you’ve-got

Or we fall apart

It’s as much a matter of mind,

As of heart

It almost breaks us

That’s the truth

As it makes old people

Out of youth

It will tether your wallet

And weather your brow

It will turn those raven locks

To snow

It will exchange 'me'

For 'we' and 'us'

It will brush away years

Like a fleck of dust

It’s never quite

How we suppose

And everyone who has

Been there knows

It takes a lot more give

Than take

After the vows

And the wedding cake

…and the honey moon

Turns into life

A ‘Til death do us part
Husband and Wife’

While we laugh, weep, 

And rearrange

What once we thought we knew

Then change

…our minds because

Love’s grin and grit

Is never how

We picture it

Yet, in spite of

All it will bring

Marriage is still

A pretty nice thing

© Janet Martin

Next week, June 3rd, James (husband) and I celebrate 28 years of 'a pretty nice thing'.

More Than Mood of Men or Pen

The fickle moods of men and pen

Respond to eyes and fingertips

And who of us can quite depend

On sighs that cut across these lips

Which grin and pout and praise and doubt

Prone to the wayward whims of flesh

While season-tides rush in, ebb out

As future-present-past enmesh

And we become the way we are

By whom we choose to follow, oh,

Where Day that rolls from shore to shore

Is more than metered moment-flow

And we are more than skin and bone

Prone to its fickle mood and whim

These feet which graze each stepping-stone

From God, are leading back to Him

© Janet Martin

Morning Is Like A Lovely Rose...

Morning is like a lovely rose

A bud upon a stem

Of Bygone happiness and woes

Waiting to bloom again

Morning is a like an orchestra

That spills from eons spent

A melody of humble awe

Anoints man’s discontent

Morning is like a coronet

Her Majesty, new day

Inaugurating what none yet

Have trampled with dismay

Morning is a like a smile from God

Mercy exceeds despair

And lays upon time’s strip of sod

His kind and faithful care

© Janet Martin

Breath of Days (AUBADE)

Poetic Bloomings blooms with the Aubade today 

Like a grand, golden trumpet the sun heralds break of day

Beneath heaven-set timing zephyr-violinists play

The birth of time’s fresh offspring fills the hills of earth with praise

As all creation sings a hymn to the Maestro of days

The table on the east lays out its feast of daily Bread

The poor and rich alike are at the mercy of time’s Head

The wise will recognize Love’s grace that grants the sacred ‘yes’

That lights the day that lights the way that none have traveled yet

The crimson lily blushes and the brook in yonder mead

Like pink platinum ribbon binds the green bank to its thread

The woodland bursts with jubilee where feather-throated throng

Without a care gild dawn’s young air with nature’s purest song

How lovely is the hope that spills beyond the reach of earth

Save in the prayer that climbs the air that chimes with virgin birth

Ah, holy, holy, holy brims from lowly hearts of men

Where Hallelujah overflows time’s cup of woes again

© Janet Martin