Saturday, August 29, 2015

Of One-time You and Me

Yesterday's suggested stroll through zinnia's and marigolds had to be put on hold so as not to interrupt the bees;-) the only visitor I met was a grasshopper.

Zinnia's are sort of like snowflakes, Victoria remarked, so many somewhat the same yet so different!

Sort of like people too, huh? We may seem quite different in appearance yet we are also quite alike;
...we need to be needed and love to be loved!

And a pair of ears
We are all somewhat alike
At first        glance,       it appears
But if         we look more       closely
Then ah,         we will         surely see
That there        is only       one of you
And only one of me
So, since 
we are a            one-time Us
Oh, wouldn't             you agree
That we         should 
 not bicker            and fuss
But ever          strive to be
The best  version,           by God's kind grace
 Of one time            You and Me


We After's Before

 Last year's threshold of this day was far more colorful than this year...the reason I remember? I sent the above picture on a birthday card I made for my dad last year:)

Over the threshold of the east like waves that wash the shore
A new portion of moments sweeps into After’s Before
Where cupped between Time’s firmament of Future filling Past
We are. Upon the breadth of Now each little life is cast

The poetry of it can steal our hearts and soothe our fears
The agony of it can feel like wounds tattooed in tears
But then over the threshold where the Now of yester fell
A new Now spills its everlasting charge of ‘Do it well’

Holy, holy, the free-fall of an hour soon is swept
Into Past’s captive endlessness; our Want of it inept
Yet we are often wanderers of it; not with our feet
But with reaches of thought; its jaded journey bittersweet

Now blooms then breaks in petals. We are reapers of its moil
The plot of it may cause our heart of hearts to ache with spoil
The toil of it may spit at us; still in form of Today
Over the threshold of God’s grace a New Now carves its way

© Janet Martin

Friday, August 28, 2015

Futile Unforgetfulness...

Sometimes I wish
I was woman enough
To tell you I miss
What we will never have

Sometimes I wish
The greatest love
I never knew
Wouldn’t be you

Sometimes I wish
We could turn back the clock
But if we did I know
I still wouldn’t know
What to say…

© Janet Martin

Why? because Tor and I just watched the movie Casablanca;-)

Soft, a Summer of Moments Slips...

Soft, a summer of moments slips to the Empire of Past
No flower has the power to grip petals ever fast
Or usurp the authority that aggravates a fool
…all must succumb to the hierarchy of a higher rule

Impassioned views of Youth meets Truth; a brick upon the air
Then we grow old, no longer bold enough to double-dare
Or wrench fare from the gentle Hand from whence all blessing flows
For we have come to recognize the disguise of the rose

All that we ask is for a task that is noble and pure
All that we need is less of greed and more of what endures
The gravity of Brevity teaches us to revere
The bloom we hold before it folds its gold in russet tear

Soft, a summer of moments flows toward the close of day
Soft, like the climax of a rose it gently fades away
No flower finds the power to preserve its verve of prime
No hour finds a bower to escape the Hand of Time

Then God, I pray that we may not wrestle with The Ordained
Yet wring from it the full of it in fervor unrestrained
And take what is and cherish it with thankful zeal because
Soft, a summer of moments becomes everything that was

© Janet Martin

Reveling in the Bloom Of It these days...

Later we'll stroll through the Zinnias and marigolds, shall we?:)
Happy God-granted Friday!

The Impact of Imminence

Do you ever wake with a keen impression of Imminence? 

Last night the sky was like a gate that closed over the landscape, stealing in its deftness another day, drawing us ever closer to the Unknowns that yet wait...

The presence of an essence that we cannot full descry
Invades and intercepts the hellos of life with good-bye
For what we cannot know or see could be life’s best or worst
Thus, at the mercy of its mystery we are blessed-cursed

The paradise that wanton lies beyond thought’s thin caress
Soft-tests the air where wistful sighs ignite the quietness
And we are starved half-beggars of that thing we cannot see
Yet spared a constant sorrow by the hope of what might be

Come darling, we should slow dance where the impact of Unknown
Plays darkness like a violin; no one should dance alone
Where Imminence is Maestro, and the music that awaits
Would leave us breathless save for Now, the bow on Unknown’s gates

© Janet Martin

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Of Home's Humble Happiness

After dropping my daughter's friend off at her home tonight and picking up groceries I returned to stare at my CHAOTIC kitchen to tidy up, mop floors, do dishes...and leave the rest for another day after a big day of peach-canning! In spite of all its short-comings,still home is the best place in the world, isn't it?

Shielded from eyes that would criticize
Home is a God-granted paradise

Here in the comfort of domestic mirth
God opens windows of heaven to earth

Safe from the hurrying, worrying throng
Home is a haven of laughter and song

Wealth gleams in piles of soiled laundry and such
Here children learn beneath mother’s soft touch

…and midst the clatter of everyday noise
Women and men emerge from girls and boys

Here, though the cares of life must have their way
Home is an alter where we bow to pray

…pray we remember Whose hands kindly bless
And thank Him for home’s humble happiness

© Janet Martin

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

But I'm A... we can throw in whatever word we choose…Canadian, Catholic, Lutheran, Presbyterian, American, Muslim, Amish, Jew, Dutch, atheist, Mennonite, Buddhist, Communist, Irishman, Englishman, …the list could be endless but the whole world over, from jungle-tribe to king or scribe The Way to become one of His is The Same

It’s not our name or fame or lack thereof
Ethnicity, culture or breed
Or circumstance or parents, or the valor of
Some saintly deed
That saves us, no, it is by grace
And that a gift purchased with blood
shed blood of Christ, The Only Way
Into the family of God

© Janet Martin

For all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.  There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

If we are sinners saved by grace then we are saints saved by grace! Are we living like it?!