Called September Day

September Day One broke through the dark in fine, fine form!

 

Paint me a picture, love, September-blue

Rain-dappled dust on musk-dusk avenue

Purple dawn’s pasture with mist-filigree

Dapple noon’s meadow with wild aster spree

Pin back the night with white crescent of moon

Brush over river-rock soft, silver swoon

Highlight with golden rod, earth’s tousled hall

Tease maple tresses with traces of fall

Wring from the roses, summer’s last hurray

Paint me a picture called September Day

Darling, the hour is a flower, oh

Soon, soon its bloom will be covered with snow

© Janet Martin

Off to see what the rest of September Day One holds in store!

Once We Were Young

 It's that 'back-to-school-away-at-school' heart tug and hug setting in...

then I read today's YDP and let thought's hunger lead.

Didn't I just say Happy Augu...oh, never mind!
Happy September, all!;-)

In Time we all become part of a cast

Wrapping our arms around pictures of Past

Wondering at the sheer pace of life’s grind

Pondering whispers of days left behind

Time’s temperament leaves no room for repeat

Nor ever ushers same noon to its street

Dreams once prized dearly are lost or exchanged

Minds that saw clearly must be rearranged

Slowly, those pieces we thought ought to fit

Need to be revised or jiggled a bit

Strange, what the middle of night can recall

Maybe our parents were right after all

With a start, hearts realize time is small

Echoes resound where its new children call

Soft on the twilight, with yesterday’s year

Trembles the black-white of Back When and Here

Silk-soft, each rise and set of dust and dew

Begets a vista, oh my, what a view

Who knew that Time drew its shadows so fast?

Ah yes, they who found themselves part of This Cast

Once we were young, full of song, free of care

Certain that life was a long-strung affair

Now we fill doorways and wave from afar

To dreamland-foragers reaching for stars

© Janet Martin

A Place Without Time...

This Poet returned to the Land of Time with a jolt when she happened to look at the clock...

Wh-a-a-a-at?!! Whe-e-e-e-re?!! oh. my!

 

Since first it versed in poet’s yen

There is no time inside a pen

No curse of tick-by-tock demand

For she with Poem in her hand

The dance of word-romance… surreal

There is no time that time can steal

It holds no rod, it bears no chains

For she with Poem in her veins

For she with Poem in her heart

There is a world, a world apart

…apart from time where rhyme and yen

Ally within the poet’s pen

© Janet Martin

New Seasons = New Reasons To Be Thankful...

Sometimes in the middle of the muddle

That befuddles us with its roar

We find, if we pause a little

So much to be thankful for

The song of summer becoming

The gong of early fall

The crickets of August strumming

A farewell madrigal

The tiptoe of time undoing

That which no one can still

Yet each dawn keeps on renewing

With dew-dazzled refill

The whisper of Something stirring

In spite of Something lost

The pictures of Passage blurring

On a landscape of thought

The door that is always open

In spite of those that close

The More that comes with each morning

Like buds before the rose

The banter from yon decanter

Where ever new seasons pour

New reasons ripe with wonder

Of much to be thankful for

© Janet Martin

Somehow, for me the weight of change feels heaviest at the end of August...

Air-Smiles

Everywhere I go, it seems, I am asked if I have air-miles...

I spare them the confusion of replying, no, but I have lots of air-smiles;-)

We picked tomatoes, the air smiling with happy chatter from a little gardener...

I like words like ‘with’ and ‘we’

They set a lovely tone

And illustrate imagery

Of someone, not alone

I like words like ‘our’ and ‘us’

Soft smiles set upon air

As they instill kind awareness

That someone else is there

© Janet Martin

Yum. More smiles:)