Showing posts with label ode. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ode. Show all posts

Monday, March 4, 2024

Ode to Father Time

Dear Father Time...

I never tire of your ways...

Your sweet and sun-steeped golden days...(today, a balmy 20C)



Your contours, swaddled in soft grays...


Your landscapes, washed in pink...



A quick pit-stop for supper and off again)



Spring is like a dog straining wildly at its leash today!

I never tire of your ways
Your sweet and sun-steeped golden days
Your contours, swaddled in soft grays
Your landscapes, washed in pink
Your rough-and-tumble give and take
Your waves that sob and surge and break
Across shorelines that gleam and ache
With untamed poem-ink

I never tire of your hymn
It trembles in the barren limb
And throbs as buds begin to brim
With orchestras of green
With daybreak’s lilac-tinted sighs
And twilight’s gentle lullabies
With hellos, harboring goodbyes
With all that falls between

I never tire of your waltz
Your minuet and somersaults
Your promenade that never halts
But twirls me round and round
Till I am breathless with delight
Yet never tire of the sight
Of you, gilt-edged ‘gainst gath’ring night
Of a new day unbound

I never tire of your ease
Turning moments to memories
Taming my younger-hungered pleas
With humble thankfulness
My cheek against your stubbly chin
Ah, darling, how can I begin
To count your ways I cannot win
Yet love you nonetheless

© Janet Martin




Saturday, January 14, 2023

Ode to a Sunrise


It must be memorialized;
the first sunrise of 2023!!





gold floods the waking world
welkin wealth spills and swells
like a glimpse of heaven unfurled
to crown earth’s hills and dells

a fervent friendliness
kindles ageless romance
hope dons the humble happiness
that bids the heart to dance

as morning laughs and sings
and makes us feel so fine
creating castles fit for kings
with glorious sunshine

...the fog-sullen rampart
dissolves; earth held at bay
Is unveiled like a work of art
Entitled Sunny Day

...a vaulted coffer tips
a dazzling surf of stars
across dawn's common ground that drips
from the Artist's paint jars

© Janet Martin


Sing unto him, sing psalms unto him: 
talk ye of all his wondrous works.


Psalm 96:1
Sing to the LORD a new song; 
sing to the LORD, all the earth.


Psalm 143:5
I remember the days of old; 
I meditate on all Your works; 
I consider the work of Your hands.

The Lord is righteous in all His ways,
Gracious in all His works.

One of my favorite hymns by one of my favorite artists!!
Thankyou David Wesley!




Monday, October 3, 2022

Ode to Grief...










You hide in jolly hollyhocks
In eyes alight with dreams
In leisurely barefoot, beach walks
In rainbow zinnia streams

In little lass with little curl
In outdoor time for tea
To celebrate a little girl
Who just turned half-past three

In ‘my, how fast sweet baby grows’
In pangs pure love imparts
In vignettes made of mementos
To carry in our hearts

In treetop tress, first green, then red
Orange, russet, gold, then doffed
In brittle crunch beneath our tread
Where leaf-lilt echoes waft

In fading valor of the sun
In autumn-morning mist
In days, that trick us summer-spun
With nights silver-frost-kissed

In swells of history disguised
In gleaming rise of day
The essence of the Thing we prized
Snatched to dusk’s foaming fray

In what has almost disappeared
As if it never was
A Very Vexing Vaunt veneered
With breath-taking Because

Because of love, because of joy
At every turn you lurk
I sense you in the carefree boy
In poise of play and work

In gardens, grand with grin and groan
Of seed's bounteous wealth
In hands, weathered, worked to the bone 
In thankfulness for health

In pansies, ever-pleasant charm
In hope and happiness
In sweeps that ripple, rife and warm
With life and loveliness

In arms that never quite grow cold
Though Child slips from Her knee
To chase the winds of growing old
On wings of vanity

You hide in touch cut to the quick
An artisan of scars
You always hover in the thick
Of laughter’s falling stars

Ah, grief, the price of love, ah love
So worth grief's cruel test
For only love can be enough
To satisfy the rest

© Janet Martin



Thursday, October 28, 2021

Ode to A Sunny October Day


After Monday and Tuesday's tempestuous weather
Wednesday was a dream!





The sky is like a sapphire bowl
 Tipped way up, upside down
The maple, like a parasol
Or queen with golden crown
The zinnia, like a lucent brooch
On azure collar pinned
The afternoon, a gleaming coach
Drawn by a sassy wind
The shadows like a tattered quilt
As holes begin to show
Where overhead autumnal gilt
Drifts earthward like leaf-snow
Where just to be alive is like
A gift twilight soon steals
The hour like a shiny bike
About to lose its wheels
The orchard filled with trees picked bare
Like ghost-towns lost to time
Save for a ladder here and there
Left for dreamers to climb

© Janet Martin

(this photo not taken yesterday
hence the gray backdrop)


this morning looks like another gem in autumn's crown!




This is the day the Lord hath made. 
We will rejoice and be glad in it!
Psalm 118:24

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.
Isa.55:12





Thursday, January 7, 2021

Ode to Goodness


"Thank Goodness for the unfailing things."
commented a friend on the previous post...
Amen!
Here is an Ode to Goodness

Where not so long ago I lost my heart
on a snow-canvas of blue shadow-art




one mysterious little critter left a trail of
heart-shaped tracks in the snow, as far as the eye could go...



I used the advantages of ink to 
open this poem with a buttercup meadow😊
Doesn't just saying the word 'buttercup' make the day feel brighter?!


Buttercups spilling like sparkles of sun 
Over a meadow of flora, fresh-spun 
Where not so long ago I lost my heart 
On a snow-canvas of blue-shadow art 

Creation cannot deny He who spills 
Four season splendour to hollows and hills 
Jack-frosted window-pane, plush, blushing morn 
Dreams running rampant in gardens reborn 

Time is a flutter, a gilt butterfly 
Winter-spring-summer-and-autumn, oh my 
Over and over, earth’s flower is wrought 
By what the Father of nature has taught 

Light shatters darkness at break of Today 
Nothing can keep what God promised, at bay 
We gape as if we have never beheld 
Amethyst mist with molten oceans meld 

Goodness and Mercy will never betray 
Hearts that have humbled their will to His way 
The surface showcases blush-blue-gold-green 
While faith embraces The Sacred Unseen 

Larks lift their lyrics without second-guess 
Hark! Can you hear it? Perfect happiness 
Winter's hearth flickers with quickening cheer 
Of warmth and welcome to all who draw near 

Leave to the atheist, spec, blind and rude 
Futile debates of love misunderstood 
Better to marvel where beauty confirms 
Goodness to we, little better than worms 

Snow-flowers shower the bower with stars 
Gazillion sequins bedeck brumal bars 
Where Old Man Winter will yield to the charm 
Of a fair, golden-haired lass on his arm 

Rivers will gurgle and giggle, set free 
Out through the wide-open veldt to the sea 
Farmers will whistle and mothers will sing 
Throwing back shutters to welcome in spring 

Robins will warble and buds will unfold 
Pink-petal miracles, green, purple, gold 
Woodlands will brandish fresh notes from each limb 
As nature heralds the Bard of the hymn 

Seeds will astonish as we watch them grow 
Specks small and brownish God’s power will show 
Unfathomed increase, our hunger to feed 
Divine Providence contained in a seed 

No one can thwart what the Lord sets in place 
Evil will never be greater than grace 
Seasons will never be left to ‘perhaps’ 
*Hear how the hill sings and how the tree claps 

Lilies will never forget how to bloom 
Consider He who arranges the loom 
That weaves the fabric that so clothes the field 
That breathes the wonder whereby hearts are healed 

That woos the worship from we, always caught 
Between what has been and what yet is not 
That keeps us, still in the thick of the fight 
Cradled in colours of mercy and light 

Where soon the afternoon climbs the last knoll 
Like tilted steeples the blue shadows toll 
Where freeways twinkle with dot-to-dot cars 
Where dusk is waiting to draw down the stars 

Where we are never forsaken by He 
Who trails but fringes of His Majesty, 
Who lowered glory through sky after sky 
Of unplumbed galaxies to you and I 

Praise to the Giver of wonder and mirth 
Praise to the Maker of heaven and earth 
Praise to the riches no miser can hoard 
From God’s abundance of goodness outpoured 

Praise to the Artist of supreme design 
Praise to the way awe and joy intertwine 
Praise to the Author of beauty unflawed 
Praise to the goodness and mercy of God 

© Janet Martin 

Isa.55:12
*You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; 
the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,
 and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Monday, July 13, 2020

Ode to July


 Canadian July leaves little to complain about 
except maybe sometimes it's too quick!







Mist-mellow ambience, yellow and blue
Aura of romance amidst much to do
Ditch-garden-meadow a billow of bloom
Sun-shadow willow-harps serenade noon
Something ‘bout July evokes surf-like roars
Rushing, receding across heart-cupped shores

Sense of sabbatical sweetens tick-tock
Lavishes looking with pink hollyhock
Tunes untamed tempos with flower-full fronds
Tickles the wheat field from sea-green to bronze
Something ‘bout July rouses with each morn
Joy for life’s roses in spite of the thorn

See how the countryside spills grand tableaus
See how the Artist awes us with His prose
See, nature’s nuances never grow old
Sparking and soothing the sigh of the soul
Something ‘bout July feels like heaven’s poem
Something ‘bout July feels like coming home

Hello, Queen Ann, your lace-looms whir on queue
Chicory-fringe, we’ve come to expect you
Hello, white chamomile, how do you grow
Heaped along roadsides like summery snow
Something ‘bout July makes gladness complete
Clap of the screen door and slap of bare feet

Sunflowers flower before the bud breaks
Bachelor buttons spill little blue lakes
Salvia-fountain is ready to burst
Hummingbird hovers to quench nectar thirst
Something ‘bout July bids us to behold
That which is filling morrow’s echo-mold

Loveliness leaps like a hymn from earth’s heart
Happiness laughs; what is man to bear part
Of such a melody Mercy composed
Glimpses of Gloryland still unexposed
Something ‘bout July beckons yet fulfills
Making each day a succession of thrills

© Janet Martin

To blog-readers only.
I don't share all my poetry on Facebook but I did link this one to FB
with this remark.
 Why?!!why-why-why?!!! asks my better half when he asked what I'm writing about...
and I'm not sure what to say other than because it just has to be...


Friday, December 13, 2019

Ode to The Table or I Like Tables...


Last week my brother-in-law who is a table-maker offered me a sweet deal.
A pick-up load of wood-pieces (left after tables are cut out) 
 for an I Like Tables Poem for his Staff Christmas Banquet last night...
And since there is no What's for-supper post to share because I was not home last night
I took a few pics of tables around our house
because tables hold a lot more than just supper...

Kitchen Table...
often heaped with projects in progress

Front entrance table holds 'warm welcome' arrangements

Dining Room table hosts hobbies as well as dinners
 End table...



Ode to the Table or I like Tables

I like tables, they make my heart sing
A table can be used for almost anything
So I’d say an ode to The Table is due
A tip o’ the hat to tables, black, brown and blue
White tables, green tables, espresso or pink
Tables are great in any colour, I think
Ebony, ivory, distressed wood or gold
Stable tables brand new, tables wobbly and old
I like tables

End tables, coffee tables, console tables, oh
Accent tables, night tables, table for the patio
Side table, foyer tables, and drum tables are nice
And a good kitchen table, worth every penny of the price
Drink-tables, work-tables, nesting-tables and such
Dining room tables please me ever so much
Conference-card-ping-pong tables all thrill me lots
Office tables, picnic tables, and tables for tots
I like tables

Industrial tables, farmhouse tables, tables shabby-chic
Scandinavian, Mid-century, modern or antique
Wood veneer, laminate, marble, metal, glass
And my personal favourite, solid wood of course
Sofa tables, times tables (oops, wrong category)
I like tables that hold many an olden story
I like small tables, tall tables to set by a door
And tables that always have room for one more
I like tables

Whether they are dressed in fine runners of silk
Or blessed with the mess of cookie crumbs and spilled milk
Whether set neatly; plate, cup, fork, spoon and knife
Or covered with clutter of everyday life
Whether they are smudged by little fingers or nose
Or polished so shiny every speck of dust shows
Whether they are freshly finished or weathered
Tables gather families and friends together
Oh, I like tables

Round tables, square tables, oval, hexagon
Rectangle tables that can stretch on and on
Tables for serious talks or celebration
There is a table for every (kind of) occasion
Tables for simple fare like bread, jam and tea
Or laden with food prepared for company
Tables where doctors say ‘you can hop up here’
Tables to pull closer to one aged and dear
I like table

(if it gets too long this verse is optional)

Tables are a little like (some) people we meet
Some sound and solid, some flimsy and weak
Tables also come in sundry shapes and sizes
They hold the predictable and grand surprises
They hold homework that births both groan and hurrah
And babies that bring out our best ooh and a-ah
They hold many memories of moments so dear
Oh, tables are so much more than they first appear
I like tables

I like tables where chatter and glad laughter bubbles
Where we gather to ponder challenges and troubles
Tables for fellowship, courtship, playing games
Or counsel when someone slips (let’s not mention names)
Tables for banquets, family altars, flower-bouquets
Tables are handy in all manner of ways
A place to pour bushels of freshly-picked beans
A place to share God’s Word, prayer, hopes and dreams
And no matter what makes other furniture ‘staples’
None of them equals the versatility of tables
Therefore, I like tables, they make my heart sing
And make most meals feel like a prize fit for a king
I like tables, oh, yes I do
And I hope, after hearing this poem
You like them too

© Janet Martin

...and the best part of this story...in the morning while splitting wood for kindling
and eyeing a quickly dwindling wood-pile I had prayed
'Oh Lord, help me find a way to get more wood'
and lo, a few hours later this 'bargain'
Thank-you God!
I can breathe easy as I attack the wood-pile!