Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Toast to Week-moments...

  1. Write a days of the week poem. Pick one day or work through them all. Have the poem about the days or just name drop a day (or days) of the week in the poem.
  2. Write a days of the weak poem. See what I did there with the spelling of “week” to “weak?” The poem could be about weakness in another, yourself, or objects that are weak.
From moment-to-moment to minute-to-minute
to hour-to-hour to day-to-day
to week-to-week to month
-to-month to year-to-year
flicker and shimmer
and glimmer a-
way
with
moment-to
minute to hour
to day to week to month
to year on year until with one
exhale the scale that measures moments-
minutes-hours-days-weeks-months-years disappears 

Janet Martin

I don't know how often I've said and will continue to say it...where do the weeks go?!
Has it really been a week since I was readying tea-cups etc. for my mom's birthday!?
are we a week into November already?!

A collage of a few moments in the first week of November 2017...

I'd like to make you quite a friend
And raise a toast to you, my dear
But here you come and there you go
You always wink and disappear

I went to tidy up...oh, caution
I found clothes that needed washin'
And while hanging them out to dry
I weedy garden caught my eye 
...and grass that needed mowing, oh
 a row that needed hoeing so
a child that needed holding
pile of towels that needed folding
then it was time for dinner
and the houseplants needed water
and the daughter needed mother
and we all needed each other 
and the dishes needed 'doing'
and the neighbor's cat some shooing
and the flowers, second-glances
and the hour, second dances 
where our chances are not numbered
nor our dances unencumbered
circumstances never worry
about weather, whether hurry
is an excuse or a reason 
wink-blink, ah, farewell Season

...I'd like to make you quite a friend
and raise a toast to you, my dear
But here you come and there you go
You always wink and disappear

Janet Martin





To Happiness Spent or To 'November'





Your bough of bequeathed bloom bows
Beneath autumn’s auburn arabesque
We empathize;
Our sighs attuned to to-do lists on Nature’s desk
Earth’s loom that laughed with lilies sleeps;
The shuttle weaving day to day
Is threaded with more modest crepe
Of brooding blue,
Cold gold
And gray

November splays a kind reminder
Of the ways
Of days and years
How swift the gift of virgin hour
Flowers,
Falters,
Disappears
And how the wow of hurry-scurry
Like the bough bent low with leaf
Succumbs to a Sultan’s edict
Where mighty mite of tock
Is chief

Dry futile tears, my dears,
And tip Now’s flask
Clasped in masked fingertips
Futile to mourn;
The little morn through flue of brittle cornrows
Slips
Time’s tempest none can tame
Or claim immunity to its finesse
November fans fond embers
Echoes flame…
And frame 
Spent Happiness

© Janet Martin

 November's 'embers' are hanging on for dear life but oh, their darling days are dearly numbered...



Steadfast and True



But he was pierced for our transgressions, 
he was crushed for our iniquities; 
the punishment that brought us peace was on him, 
and by his wounds we are healed.
Isa.53:5 

No matter what we think or feel
Or dare to say or do
The everlasting Word of God
Abides, steadfast and true

No matter what circumstance grants
Be it joy or dismay
The Word of God is not by chance
But is man’s hope and stay

The Word of God withstands Time’s test
Through ever-pressing tides
No matter what may come to pass
The Word of God abides

...then when we turn each sacred page
And look on He who died
Faith rests assured in spite of age
And hope is satisfied 

The Word of God is like a spring
Of Living Water poured
And as the thirsty come to drink
Their courage is restored 

Then sing; let earth ring with the joy
That God alone can give
Nothing and no one can destroy
His Words whereby we live

© Janet Martin


Isaiah 51:6
"Lift up your eyes to the sky,
Then look to the earth beneath;
For the sky will vanish like smoke,
And the earth will wear out like a garment
And its inhabitants will die in like manner;
But My salvation will be forever,
And My righteousness will not wane.


 Heaven and earth will pass away,
but my words will never pass away.
Matt.24:25

Monday, November 6, 2017

A tweaked re-run just for fun:) In Praise of Perfection In a Can...


For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. 

 
He wakes me up each morning
Much to my delight
He knows exactly what I need
And how to do it right
I stay a little sleepy
Until I feel his touch
His warmth flows into, through me
I love him oh, so much
 
 
Maxwell, you’re a darling
I keep you in a can
And can't wait until morning
To kiss your face of tan
Your deep and robust passion
  Ignites me to the core
And oh, I know I cannot
Live without you anymore
 
 
Love, you don’t have to worry
No one can take your place
I sip you and inhale you
With a smile upon my face
Maxwell, you’re a darling
I love your coat of blue
And in the early morning
Nobody else will do
 
Maxwell, you’re a keeper
Perfection in a can
I wonder what would happen
IF YOU WERE A MAN
 
Janet Martin 

In Praise of Friends...





For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. 
Praise a person; praise a deity; praise your favorite food. 
If you ask me, there’s not enough praise to go around in this world; 
let’s fix that today–with this poem. 
Praise someone or something, even if it’s just your morning coffee.




I had a day out with friends today to celebrate a 50th birthday, (Happy birthday, Jan:)
...so it is only fitting to praise the blessing of good friends!
 

A friend is like a favourite book
We read again, again
They are the laughter in our ‘glad’
The pillow in our pain

A friend is like a precious poem
The beauty of each line
Etched in a page-less treasure-tome
Word cannot quite define

A friend is like a gift from God
I pray that I may be
The kind of friend to you, my friend
That you have been to me

© Janet Martin


In Praise of November Days...









You flood the heart with phrases too manifold for mere word
You toll a gong that blazons from yon belfry undeterred
And though you doff coppice and croft of autumn color-schemes
You move your moody wand across the brooding ponds and streams

You nurture nature’s languor with a lonesome lullaby
And spread a somber table for the poet’s hungry sigh
The lay leased to the laden limb, you quiet, leaf by leaf
As amber-russet riot dims on ashen-brindled heath

You scatter summer’s tatters like a scalawag run wild
And strip the tips of fronds that donned the lilt of bloom awhile
You sweep the sleeping landscape with death’s elemental dearth
And draw the eye to where the sky is tucked against the earth

You keen with soulful silence the impact of season’s seal
How one cannot turn back the clock to walk on Bygone’s reel
How, even in November when your wind is a sad song
We ought to dance and remember not to glance back too long

© Janet Martin




For today’s prompt, write a praise poem. 
Praise a person; praise a deity; praise your favorite food. 
If you ask me, there’s not enough praise to go around in this world; 
let’s fix that today–with this poem. 
Praise someone or something, even if it’s just your morning coffee.