Dust-swirls...

 ...as I was contemplating the upright position from my cozy horizontal came the first lines of this poem;-)

Left foot forward then the right;

Thus the day becomes the night

Little sleep when day is done;

Soon night’s deep is full of sun

Little holding close, then oh;

Tender tug of letting go

Little sorrow, joy, peace, strife

Stirs the dust that fosters life

Little swivel on the sod

Is time's little gift from God

© Janet Martin

 Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. 

What is your life? 

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

James 4:14

Wishing you a wonder-filled worship-day!

 

The Tale of the Unhappy Mouse

PAD Challenge 22: For today’s prompt, write a fable poem. 

A fable is a story that conveys a moral, usually told with animal characters.

Once upon a time a mouse

Unhappy where he sat

Thought life would be much easier

If he could be a cat

So he put on a coat of fur

And yowled his best meow

But all that answered him was gr-r-r-r

Woof-woof and bow-wow-wow

Into his little hole he fled

“I wish to be a dog” he said

He wagged his tail and tried to yelp

And beg and shake a paw

The other dogs thought he cried ‘help!’

And yipped and woofed ‘hurrah’

From every corner of the earth

 (Oh, what a sight for eyes)

With sundry speed and breed and girth

Came dogs in every size

Oh no, wee mouse squeaked in despair

I wish I was a great big bear

Then all that I would do is eat

And grow so round and fat

No dog would dare to snare my treat

No sly, old pussy cat

And I, footloose and fancy free

Would loaf in the warm sun

Nothing to fright or worry me

Hey, say?! Was that a gun?

To be a big, black bear I shan’t

I’d like to be an elephant

The children would laugh with delight

To ride way, way up high

No other creature would be quite

As big and broad as I

...but wait; what runs beneath my feet
A mouse! my greatest fear
They are so small, they peek and squeak
And then they disappear
A mouse you say....how can that be?!
 My, but I'm proud to just be me

Who, If Not For Poets?

It’s one a.m.; traffic is muffled on black velvet streets

Where want of slumber and the taunt of poetry competes

As soundless warriors of hunger and hope dredge the deep

To find amongst the masses, poets not yet fast asleep

The night is like an inkwell full of words waiting to be

They rankle in recesses vexed with ‘almost poetry’

Then let the dreamers dream their dreams in lands of sweet repose

No one can tame the Muse’s will as every poet knows

The rose is void of form or beauty until it breaks free

And word is like a storm of duty without poetry

For who, if not for poets, will potential poem find?

And who, if not for poets, can paint pictures on the wind?

Hark, hark, the dark is deeper after one a.m., my dear

The Quiet like a keeper of the poet’s smile and tear

Where words beguile in spite of common senses such as sleep

For who, if not for poets, will snare whispers from the deep?

© Janet Martin

Lest Honesty Becomes Us...

It's the splashes of perfect happiness that keep us dancing in the rain!

In time we learn there’s no such thing as perfect happiness

Its paradise is full of holes and hunger’s emptiness

And so we count our blessings and find reasons to be glad

Lest honesty unbridled lets love’s longing drive us mad

The soul is never fully satisfied, but oh, we try

Though hands and pockets cannot hold delight’s constant supply

For, even in the best of times, in time we come to grips

That perfect happiness is like a kiss upon the lips

Youth pursues pretty pictures dangling like a silhouette

Their happiness a safe hold in a house not broken yet

Where love in all its loveliness holds a lifetime to teach

...that perfect happiness is always almost within reach

In time we learn that life, in spite of love yields loneliness

Its paradise a treasure trove of kind forgetfulness

Where oft we name our blessings, humbled by the joys we’ve had

Lest honesty becomes us and love’s longing drives us mad

© Janet Martin

Life Goes On...

Sorrow swings its sickle, reaps...

We who yet remain, pause, weep

Then return to learn, yearn, trod

Living's way to faithful God 

A week ago my friend said good-bye to her mother.

We gathered to 'weep with those who weep'

 ...then life hurried us back to 'promises to keep'

Thoughts and prayers remain to sustain...

Life goes on

And so does death

Live life well

With every breath

Soon its dust-to-dust will lie

In God’s trust beneath the sky

Life goes on

And death does too

No one knows

When life is through

Thus for life’s swift gift of days

We should give God all the praise

© Janet Martin