Thursday, April 15, 2021

April Glory Story

PAD Challenge day 15: For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Story," 
replace the blank with a word or phrase, 
make the new phrase the title of your poem, 
and then, write your poem.

Enjoying a taste of early spring in Ontario!





April...

Once upon a time she was
akin to distant stars
while snowflakes swirled
and winter hurled 
its venom from yon bars
to howl at doors
and tap on windows
shuttered to the cold
that now, in warmth 
of April charm
melts into green and gold

Janet Martin

p.s. today however, Old Man Winter
is doing his best to change the title to 
April Hoary-Story 



For Sailors on Life's Sea

 Life is no pleasure-cruise; Soul’s sacred ship is not a yacht...

Below, a rough sketch of a picture that formed in my mind
as I wrote this poem...


The sea of life is filled with precious barks of humankind
Uncharted waters spill across eastern horizon-line
Where we, all deftly drawn toward where we have never been
Need to learn how to trust the Lord who orders the Unseen

For fear is like a fiend that wreaks havoc where moments break
It draws our eyes from God who promised never to forsake
Peter could walk on water while his gaze was fixed on He
Who beckoned ‘come’ though wild the tempest tossed the roiling sea

The stormy gale will not prevail though sometimes, so it seems
The love of God will never fail though loss may shatter dreams
Hope, like an anchor will secure faith’s bark in Mercy’s keep
To grant assurance as we face today’s uncharted deep

Life is no pleasure-cruise; Soul’s sacred ship is not a yacht
Time's rocks and waves may dash and bruise us in a course, hard-fought
But, as we cling to the life-line unfurled at Calvary
Love's firm anchor of hope secures barks of humanity

© Janet Martin









Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Of Weathered 'Would'

 

Weathered wood flaunts fresh foliage...


just as weathered 'would' unfolds fresh faith!

We try to turn the other cheek
To think twice, thrice before we speak
To make the most of More with less
To simplify our happiness

When life holds up to trembling lips
Its Cup of Joy, we savour sips
Where delight and despair compete
To cull a vintage, bittersweet

We work to win a well-earned rest
With good intent we strive for Best
We pray, we till time’s teeming sod
We plant, we wait; no ‘late’ with God

We wage wars twixt wonder and want
We struggle with faith’s feathered font
We try, but every now and then
We trip and need to try again

Inhale deeply, then exhale, slow
One foot forward, ah, here we go
Not crippled by Discipline's rod
But bolstered by the grace of God

From weathered wood/would fresh bud is borne
From Bygone's bloody bars, new morn
From slip and trip's face-planted low
We learn the little that we know

© Janet Martin


Phil.3:12-14
"Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; 
but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. 
Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, 
forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, 
I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus."

Background and Surround Sound and Scene

PAD Challenge day 14: For today's prompt, write a poem 
inspired only by stimulus from where you're sitting (or standing, if you write will standing).
 In the past, I've written poems about pencils, characters in books I can see, 
and things I can see out my window when using this prompt. 
So consider your immediate surroundings and poem away today.

Here are tidbits of what I see from where I sit and stare
While trying to lure lines from an air-lair

A sweep of rolling countryside...


The lawn looks like a sea of pearls...


Clutter collects like fallen leaves...



Fruit-bowl familiarity...



A sweep of rolling countryside
Showcasing nature’s joy and pride
Beneath a sky-wide windowpane
As night fades into day again
And wakes within, Hope’s glad refrain

A page, turned by the Hand of Time
To let, as yet, an un-smudged clime
Before the chime of rhyme unfurls
A phantom carousel that whirls
the lawn looks like a sea of pearls

Clutter collects, like fallen leaves
It resurrects harvested sheaves
Dickinson, Shelley, Keats and Clare
Humble the poet’s starry stare
We, kindred prey of creature-care

Fruit-bowl familiarity
Fond back-ground noise of family
Aroma of a fresh-brewed pot
A tug of war twixt Want and Ought
Embrace the place of hard-fought jot

The clock is like a hungry beast
Devouring morn’s moment-feast
How swift its sparkle disappears
Into the fabric-work of years
While Poet plumbs thought’s unplumbed spheres

Telephone rings, toil tips its cup
The sun climbs higher, up-up-up
Gone is the yawning quietude
While threshold of mercy renewed
Grants much to author gratitude

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Wisdom's Magnum Opus

 

'We should not ask whether 'The Thing' on its own is Good or Bad,
 Dad would caution us when teaching discernment,
 'because a Thing/action is always hinged to where it leads. 
After the ripple effect is studied you will have your answer
about whether a Thing is good or bad.'


Have I always heeded Wisdom's Magnum Opus?
Sadly, no. Sometimes I allow the sparkle of the splash to blind me!


Ripple-effects of recompense
Should cause us to be ‘ware
And consider the consequence
Action is bound to bear

Discernment delves deeper than mere
-ly breadth of pebble-throw
It contemplates the scope and sphere
Of how far ripples flow

Love looks beyond the present-tense
And sparkle of the splash
To where ripples of recompense
Are surely bound to wash

The path to Aftermath is scarred
By vain apology
Because of ripples that we barred
From our periphery


© Janet Martin

I Need More Than Luck



PAD Challenge 13: Two-for-Tuesday
For this Two-for-Tuesday prompt:
Write a lucky poem and/or...
Write an unlucky poem.

Abide With Me-Audrey Assad



I do not bank on luck
To charm what waits to be
Luck offers no assurance or
Accountability

Luck leaves no one to thank
Stars cannot see or hear
But by the grace of God go I
Through thick and thin, my dear

For when this life is through
(Death is no lottery)
I need more than luck to cling to
To face eternity

No lucky gal am I
But I am blessed indeed
By He who grants far more than chance
To minister to need

© Janet Martin

Instead, you ought to say,
 “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”
James 4:15

Monday, April 12, 2021

An April 11th Poem

(Better late than never)
Started this poem early yesterday before other loves prevailed💗

PAD Challenge day 11: For today's prompt, write a prime number poem.
Thank-you Robert Lee Brewer for this helpful paragraph😉
"And if you need help with remembering which numbers are prime numbers,
 I've got you covered (here's a list of prime numbers up to 100: 
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97)."

Got a picture of these beauties while on a bicycle ride yesterday afternoon...




Eleven days in
to the month that begins
earth's em'rald unveiling of valleys and hills
of stealing our breath
with sweet petal-pleth-
-ora of tulips and daffodils 

Eleven days in 
to bud-quickening
giddy with green in innumerable shades
as carol of bird
and dust being stirred
spark's wander-must's lustiest promenades 

Eleven days in
to nature's broadest grin
as rolling vistas and woodlands unfold
 from humming looms
rush hour of blooms
welling with springtime's wonder to behold 

Janet Martin



Onus of Reply

 PAD Challenge day 12: 

For today's prompt, write a poem using at least three of the following six words:
convict, great, play, race, season, and voice.
Extra credit for using all six words.
Extra extra credit for writing a sestina.

Sometimes dreams wane...
sometimes they are fulfilled!
Japan celebrates with Hideki Matsuyama 
as he, the winner of the Masters 2021




I am a bit of a born day-dreamer but am beginning to realize
in my mid-fifties, how the play of dreams is no longer center-stage!
Too much reality to focus on!

Attempting a sestina😐
I realized after struggling through writing this 
the extra challenge was using the six key words as the last word in each line! 
oops. See if I get a chance to try again later!


Somewhere along the way the play of dreams begins to wane
The great weight of love’s tears seasons the years with sun and rain
The voice of choice convicts or forgives; we live its Reply
The success of life’s race we run is determined thereby
Where, not how we begin but how we finish is the test
This is the day the Lord has made and He deserves our Best

Life is too precious to give it anything but our best
Reality plays havoc with dreams, thus sometimes they wane
Who knows what life bestows to compose the lows of its test
Some seem to get more sunshine; some seem to live in the rain
Where so much more than meets the eye is presented thereby
The voice of choice always at the mercy of our reply

We ought to give most careful thought to effects of reply
Because much more than meets the eye works out for our best
Where strength of character, not physique, is fashioned thereby
Our voice is heard without a word in life’s multi-choice Test
Where oft we face the race, drenched by life’s elemental rain
And in its storm the play of dreams sometimes begins to wane

But, even as the play of darling dreams begins to wane
The world is waiting to receive the brunt of our reply
Because we are all runners of a sort, life’s sun and rain
Matters of fact that season trust and dust of days thereby
For no one runs the race of life without facing a test
And sometimes those who finish last are they who finish best

This is the day the Lord has made and He deserves our best
Who knows what waits to take the place of darling dreams that wane
What phoenix waits to rise like a prize from ashes of test
What flower waits to wow us after a shower of rain
Where our measure of happiness is oft finessed thereby
Where love’s treasures that we possess depend upon reply

It all comes down to this; the sacred onus of reply
We bear responsibility for both its worst and best
The legacy we leave behind is thus designed thereby
Not by the circumstance but by the reply to the test
Where together we can weather either the sun or rain
And perhaps fill the gaps with joy when dreams begin to wane

So then, because reply is what a life is shaped thereby
Even when dreams begin to wane let’s face both sun and rain
With nothing but our best to conquer the brunt of the test

© Janet Martin