Showing posts with label bloom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bloom. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

March Gardens



 "Oh my, Mom!" exclaimed my eldest daughter yesterday as I showed her my 'empty canvas'
(thanks to water troubles that began our new year!)
" I have to say a lot of words come to my mind before 'empty canvas' 
but if that's what you see then, great!"
( I use 'water-troubles' carefully because right now 
our hearts/prayers are with those in flooded Nebraska!)



 Don't you just LOVE March gardens? 
They bloom perfectly from books spread on tables and
in dream-lands without dirt!

From the forge of ice and snow
Gorgeous dreams of flowers flow
Gushing like a rainbow brook
Through thought’s every nook and crook

Time has tamed the wilding gale
Coaxed warm raindrop from its wail
Hope unfolds, gold-violet-vined
In grand gardens of the mind

Fantasy finds Brigadoon
Perfect blue-green afternoon
Hillside almost-heaven splays
Apple-blossomed milky ways

Happiness sings like a lark
Spring and morning meet its mark
Laughter is a daffodil
Where winter has lost its will

© Janet Martin


Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Come, Come where Blossoms Bloom



 (click link to see gorgeous blossom)


Come, see where blossoms bloom
Before the sweet of fruit
And leaf returns to root
Hope spills its half-bud plume

Come, stroll where dreaming roof
Is fraught with fragrant flow’r
Before the bleeding bow’r
Bends low with harvest-proof

…and here we, arm in arm
‘neath virgin canopy
Of what is yet to be
Taste youth in all its charm

Come, come where blossoms bloom
Too soon the fruit will fall
Its musky madrigal
Filling thought’s holding-room

© Janet Martin

Sunday, March 10, 2013

What Lies Beneath...





What lies beneath, not what is seen
Conceives the branch's fruits
Beneath the snow the grass is green
The tree thrives from its roots

What lies beneath and not the skin
Defines, designs the whole
For who we are begins within
Where thought and God control

What lies beneath, the bud employs
Its bloom of vernal wreath
Is but the aftermath of joys
In travail borne beneath

What lies beneath may seem quite veiled
But Time its truth imparts
The fruit we bear is but the yield  
Of gardens in the heart

© Janet Martin




Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Naught, but the Hours That Haste





I dream of apple trees
Heady with pink froth of spring
And beneath, on its petal-blanket
We arrest moment-offerings
Before the hour devours
Its fragrance from our lips
And bends the apple orchard
With fruit that autumn strips

I dream of a cup spilling over
With fragments of faded years
Time masquerades as a lover
While a lifetime disappears
Yet eagerly he insists on bringing
New flavors I must taste
While heedless, I am clinging
To naught but the hours that haste



© Janet Martin

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

A Simple Exhortation




There is an exhortation
We should not take for-granted
To bloom with exaltation
Wherever we’re planted

© Janet Martin

A few years ago a friend gave me portulaca flowers.
Now, every year they re-seed and come up wherever the seeds fall,
blooming vibrantly when many other flowers have begun to fade…

Friday, June 15, 2012

Oh Still the Hastening Bloom




Oh, still the hastening bloom
That crowns the summer’s day
I must hold its tender fold
Before it fades away

Oh, still the ticking clock
That peals the quickened hour
I must pause a bit because
I need to smell the flower

Oh, still the sassy breeze
That steals its fragrant leaf
And tucks to earth arboreal birth
With not one tear of grief

Oh, still the hastening bloom
Too soon its petals weep
For they as I, bud, bloom, then die
Restored to Heaven’s keep

© Janet Martin

Inside a birthday card I received she wrote ‘Bloom where you’re planted’.
On my run yesterday morning I was struck by the beauty in the wildflowers simply ‘blooming where they are planted’.