Of Daily Compositions...

Before the tree runs in rose and bronze rivers

Back to earth’s casket again

Lie down and look up where soft green and gold quivers

Like the strain from a violin

Listen, like a doting fan to the tempo

Of moments that waft on a breeze

Composing with nothing but common memento

An operetta of memories

© Janet Martin

Far-off Nearby or Human-Nature

Poetic Bloomings Prompt day 4: 

use contrast as your title then write something that relates to summer somewhere in the poem

 (the girl in the photo is quite innocent of such storms just yet, 

and I enjoy this calm before the learning-when-to-keep-mum;-)

We are quite different, my dear, you and I

My numbered years with your much younger vie

Yesterday, as if stating something quite new

You declared, 'I’ll never see eye to eye with you'

And I couldn’t help but smile just a little bit

As I recalled the wee while when you used to fit

In the crook of my arms without a fight

Our only battle-line drawn in middle-night

Then I thought these days were far-off as the sky

That waits winter-gray for true-blue of July

While the white storm howls through saplings standing free

Against the jowls of nature in the shelter of full-grown trees

©Janet Martin

Mid-summer Madrigal

Poetic-blooming Prompt day 3: a mid-summer night's dream or anything mid-summer. Because of the prompt I attempted adding a Shakespearean twist to this poem...

Thy kinship captures hearts; since Time began

Thou lavishest thy art on earthy span

And ravishest the dreamer with desire

A rose can set the soul of Her afire

Thy rooming-house of flowers none can tame

Or build a wall about thy sky-wide frame

Nay, free to one and all thy citadel

Of star-strewn hill and rill, and wild-bloom fell

Of shoreline tinged with lime and gentian-blue

Of garden fringed with pearl of midnight dew

Of wayward wind-in-willow-harp nocturne

That rouses sparks where echo-embers burn

Of cup that runneth over with a tide

That primes the blush of clover and young bride

Of fledgling falt’ring on the highest limb

Where wanderlust will get the best of him

…where poet-dreamer-lover intertwine

‘Til none can tell the flower from the vine

© Janet Martin

A Blip on the Mother-ship of Earth

Time is a straight tunnel

A surge of dark and light

Morning finds the funnel

That drains it back to night

We, pulsing ellipses

Dot our plot of sod

Mute moment-eclipses

Move us back to God

Sunlight sets a-quiver

The harp-string of lark

Soon its golden river

Is snuffed by the dark

Performance of people

Wedge twixt earth and sky

 Climbing up a steeple

Where past-people lie

© Janet Martin

The Entertainment World of a Country Girl

The great outdoors

Was the only orchestra she ever heard

Half-shut eyes ‘neath cloud-fluffed skies

Held picture shows thought-blurred

Singers were boys and girls best-dressed

Four-part harmony cool

In Christmas carols to moms and dads

At a concert in a two-room school

And entertainment was a shallow brook

Where minnows and tad-poles played

She traveled the world in story books

On a barge of willow-shade

Sometimes she would sit past the barn on a hill

Watching a highway holding campers and cars

And she wondered where all 'those people’ go

Then she would lie back and count stars

Freedom was free as the wind that blew

Through the only world she knew

Of field and firth, heaven on earth

On a stage grass-green, sky-blue

© Janet Martin