Showing posts with label dusk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dusk. Show all posts

Monday, November 6, 2023

Better Be Careful, Poet...


PAD Challenge day 6: For today’s prompt, take the phrase "Better (blank),"
replace the blank with a new word or phrase,
make the new phrase the title of your poem,
and then, write your poem...


Because of the rain and the end to Daylight Saving Time,
darkness began to fall at 5:00 p.m.!




Dusk’s darkness drops an ethereal veil over the countryside
The night rolls in, an ocean driv’n by an invisible tide
You better be careful, Poet; November can cast a spell
And set beneath its brooding deep, a bottomless inkwell

The day dissolves, a little like a snowflake on Time’s tongue
It covers every window where November’s landscape hung
You better be careful, Poet; for the heart is easy prey
When standing on dusk’s shoreline watching daylight ebb away

© Janet Martin



Monday, November 21, 2022

November Dusk Ditty


Tomorrow’s troubles can wait
(I’ve learned they always do)
Let’s linger at time’s phantom gate
While dusk deepens its blue
And snuffs away the view
Until all we can see
Is someone in the window staring
Back at you and me

Leave morrow’s sorrows be
Today has quite enough
To wrangle into poetry
Of hope and hurt and love
Of blush and bronze and mauve
Like colors on a tray
That fell beneath the velvet veil that
Brushed the world away

© Janet Martin

Monday, March 28, 2022

Dusk Reflections







Due to crisp temperatures tonight's walk 
was brief and brisk! 
B-r-r-r-r!!

At dusk the day dons slippers
Soft and plush and pink
Shadows lean against the hill
Like quills poised for ink

The landscape is an easel
The skyline, a sill
Where stiff silhouettes are etched
Dark and stark and still

At dusk the quiet thickens
Until all we see
Are reflections in windows
Where day used to be

© Janet Martin



Friday, December 10, 2021

Haloed Ground


Dusk’s halo crowns the dimming day
Earth draped in a luxurious shawl
Embellished where blue shadows fall
In patterns pressed like applique 

As twilight dons a hallowed air
And day that was is gently drawn
To gossamer worlds of bygone
In ambience akin to prayer

Leaving behind a kind of sense
That grants no answer as we peer
Down corridors of yesteryear
...of Time hinged to Something Immense

© Janet Martin



Monday, November 8, 2021

Autumnal Eventide Aria



Twice (yesterday and today) this post wanted to be a morning poem
but by the time it was complete it is an autumn eventide poem/aria...
Enjoy! and forgive the 'stumbles'... 

Time’s trodden track of centuries bestows beneath our feet
Unbroken sod, uncharted seas, where man and morning meet...

Time’s trodden track of centuries bestows beneath our feet
Unbroken sod, uncharted seas, where man and morning meet
Life’s best and worst is blessed and cursed with universal need
Where pilgrims of hunger and thirst once more, by grace, proceed

Earth dons a burnished afterglow as woodland lamplight dims
As leaves, like freshly-fallen snow, lie silent ‘neath stark limbs
As day starts to unravel breath by breath its lathe unfurls
Thoroughfares left to travel, riddled with potholes and pearls

Life’s murmur of existence shimmers like a sun-tossed leaf
No measure of resistance can thwart Time’s four-season Chief
Where this day that the Lord has made, none can take credit for
Or blush beneath the accolades as dawn swings back its door

How reckless to suppose this speck of Being that we brave
Is nothing but a feckless trek from cradle to the grave
How reassuring to be held in love that knows no bounds
As centuries and seasons meld His changeless Word resounds

Time’s trodden track of centuries hinges to now and here
Where, like the banner of a breeze our footfalls disappear
Into autumnal eventide; a wafted wisp that weaves
Impressions of a countryside asleep beneath the leaves

© Janet Martin

Life’s murmur of existence shimmers like a sun-tossed leaf...

Into autumnal eventide; a wafted wisp that weaves
Impressions of a countryside asleep beneath the leaves...












Wednesday, September 29, 2021

Shadow Art...

 




The shadows caught my attention
while I was cooking supper, but
its hard to capture their impact from the front porch!
However, I hope you can sense the halcyon aura! 

The art of shadows cast upon a canvas of day nearly done
Captures our gaze where dusk’s tableau seems just like days from long ago
And we feel like an honoured guest in front row seats all facing west
While to the east the shadows lie like blue-paint steeples run awry
Upon a canvas where the day that casts the shadows fades away

© Janet Martin

By the time supper was over and dishes done
the shadows were gone...






Thursday, April 29, 2021

Twilight Tableau

 PAD Prompt 29: For today's prompt, write an evening poem. 




The rush of morning-tide to dusk softens its color-show
The artist picks a velvet brush to paint twilight’s tableau
With coral hues and purple-blues, and periwinkle tulle
The edges of the earth are tucked beneath night’s crepuscule
With kiss and hug he bids each sleepy fledgling sweet goodnight
Then dabs a curve of silver, crescent moon as a nightlight

© Janet Martin



Thursday, March 11, 2021

Of Gray and Gold

 






At day break gold put on quite a glow 
before gray lowered/glowered to extinguished its show


Soon, should we live to see it through
Dusk will obscure dawn’s virgin view
Soon time will gather gray and gold
As chimes of tick and tock are tolled
To bygone’s immutable mold
In words we say and deeds we do

As we look back then on today
At scenes that none can brush away
Will echo-fray we leave behind
Be patient, true, gentle and kind
With fellow-trave’lers first in mind
Where gold and gray tones interplay

We cannot see what waits to be
Where gates fling wide to set it free
On teeming tides of come-what-may
We sail toward the close of day
In ebbs and flows, now gold, now gray
While making history

© Janet Martin

After a gray shower passed through
the sun has returned,
 working its golden wonders once more!




Looks like cross-country skiing is running to an end for this season...hopefully!
As much as I enjoy it I would never choose it over an early spring!


Ecccles. 3:1-8

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.


Me, with a basket of laundry to hang out
am glad for 'a time for gold'...


Little girl with a new, polka-dot umbrella, 
was wishing for 'a time for more gray plip-plop of raindrops'!
(it kinda looks like she might get her wish😊)
...looks like a true March gray-gold kaleidoscope kind of day today!


Wednesday, December 2, 2020

December Dusk

December dusk such as tonight
deserves a little tribute


Where blue and gold 
like sea and sand,


wash through a mold 
Of day in hand 


and folds the land 
and sky into 

A world that slip, 


Slip-


Slips from view




Where stubble gleams 
like golden studs... 

that stipple reams 
of frozen mud 


while dusky pink 
to black ink drains


until only 
a moon remains 

© Janet Martin 

Saturday, November 7, 2020

Fond Farewell-Forge



We are always on the verge of Fond farewells,
but hallelujah, we are also always on the verge of Hello's unfolding rose.


Farewell is love's most Bitter Sweet!

How, after all the autumns 
Where spent leaf-laughter lies 
Does Time’s meted momentum 
Still take us by surprise 



After being buried in snow 5 days ago
this autumn summer is ever so much sweeter!!




Ah, manifest momentum 
Of seasoned gravity 
The swaying of a pendulum 
We feel but cannot see 

Over harvest-cropped landscape 
A wave of hunger heaves 
Farewell is always taking shape 
In the summer of leaves 

How, after all the autumns 
Where spent leaf-laughter lies 
Does Time’s meted momentum 
Still take us by surprise 

…to force the heart to wrestle 
With tides it cannot vex 
Where Farewell is a vessel 
Laden with what is next 

Life’s white heat on love’s anvil 
Forges fond farewell’s art 
But cannot touch or trample 
The showcase of the heart 

So, as we ponder hours 
Where farewell fills the room 
Remember, hello’s flowers 
Are bursting into bloom 

…to steep life’s dusk or autumn 
With wonder to behold 
Gilding the most commonplace frond 
In etching of pure gold 

© Janet Martin

the past few dusk's have been 
drop-everything-and-behold 
beautiful!
as earth's echo-land is etched in gold









To everything there is a season, 
A time for every purpose under heaven:

Eccles.3:1