Friday, July 18, 2014

If You should Happen Past My House...


If you should happen past my house
And you would see it as you go
Would it look like the sort of place
Of someone you would like to know?

And would its lawn and gardens grin
…a rainbow-colored welcome mat
And would they whisper,’ come on in’
To sit a spell for tea and chat?

If you should happen past my house
I’d like to think that it would be
A ‘home-away-from-home-like-hug’
Just to keep you company

Strange, how every now and then
We pass a house that seems to glow
With a sweet sort of ‘welcome-grin’
Of someone we would like to know

© Janet Martin

Don't you find that some houses just have a homey welcome-hug appeal as you pass by? Tomorrow we leave for the cottage and I have a few such houses 'ear-marked' to smile to as we pass...

(so if this porch is a little quiet, I know you will understand,
sometimes we simply have to sit with toes in sea and sand;)

Happy side-note: Changed the spark-plug, added fresh oil; and Br-r-r-m! the tiller started! (frustration mentioned here) The garden hopefully won't be a total jungle when we return.


Where girlhoods’ coronation placed a scepter in her hand
She battles the temptation to be carefree once again
But love, though lenient at times cannot condone such flair
To toss with glib abandonment its elements of care

Go east or west or north or south, a mother’s heart is bound
And tethered by the laws of love; prayer is her stopping-ground
For love, her utter Wanting crowns her with both rose and thorn
The having and the holding prelude to a heart half-torn

She cups her hands to cradle one wee moment, but its gleam
Succumbs where Time’s grand ladle spills its tug-of-warring stream
Soon worlds drawn on a drop of dew and dawn’s pink-puddled mist
Dissolves where Duty appoints new commissions to be kissed

Time does not reimburse us for play-things it steals away
But rather it immerses us in blessings of Today
It does not barter with the past, still, every now and then
She smiles to hear her children laugh... untethered once again

© Janet Martin

I would feel stripped soul-naked to be 'untethered' from heart-strings, but oh, its tug is bittersweet...

Thursday, July 17, 2014

These are Those Days...

These are those days that long taunted our gaze
As we peered through ice and snow-swaddled pane
These are the hours where fancy’s fine flowers
Painted thought-pictures to ditches and lanes
These are the streams that persuaded our dreams
To dig much deeper than mountains of snow
These are those days; holly-hock, high-noon haze
Where birdies bicker and bronze breezes blow

These are those days of iced tea and heat-waves
Garden-dirt grandeur where Time’s bare feet dash
Reeds reaching higher in sluggish quagmire
Leaf umbrellas and rain-song splish-splash
These are those days, blue pavilion, green chaise
Life is a dream and each pasture a park
Fire-fly flashlights and late, lazy good-nights
…we laugh like love-struck teens out after dark

These are those days; brushed with honey-sweet glaze
Silver-dew mornings and star-spangled nights
These are the hours that falter like flowers
Bursting with beauty to slip from our sight
Touch, taste and treasure its fleet-footed pleasure
Pause ere the pattern of clock-monotone
Snuffs the sun-shimmer where sea-diamonds glimmer
Here for a summer then gone, gone, gone

© Janet Martin

“Ah, these are the days we dream about all winter long!” I said to Victoria as we podded peas beneath maple arches strummed by a soft breeze.  

The Suffering of Innocence


The gaping wounds of sorrow stun to silence our complaint
As hate’s hideous horrors bleed upon the innocent
Oh God, you see our anguish and behold the tears that fall

How hard it is to understand the aftermath of hate
Yet Love will conquer; evil cannot enter Heaven’s gate
Be near, I pray, instill Your peace where demons cannot go
Remind us Lord, of Calvary and how you love us so

Gethsemane once bore your prayers; and oh, you prayed for us
Knowing the road that You must bear would lead You to the cross
Lord, help us to stand valiant against the enemy
Succor, comfort and be our strength until we live with Thee

© Janet Martin

I was frustrated because my garden tiller quit and won't start, then I came inside and heard the news of this
 APTOPIX Ukraine Plane Malaysia Airlines crash MH17  

'We have One who knows and cares 
He hears the words in wordless prayers!'

Like a Little Porch

 ...working in the garden beneath a perfect sky in perfect temperatures with perfect...oops perfectly imperfect kids;)  makes one perfectly

Beneath love’s azure eye
Where cotton-ferries waft
In uncharted infinity
To ports afar, aloft

…sprawls earth; a meager dot
Where on its mutual slope
Gathers upon its mourning plot
We, journey-men of hope

Here bloom and blood-drops mesh
Here people laugh and weep
Here we suffer sorrows of flesh
Toward love’s azure deep

Here glimpses keen our thirst
For what we cannot see
Earth’s dot is like a little porch
Hinged to eternity

© Janet Martin