Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Intangible Winnowing...

Sometimes I feel its blue pour through
The cracks that let the sunlight in
And all along the corridor of middle day
The rain drops grin

Sometimes the mosaic of moments
Bleeds and blurs; fall, winter, spring
And summer like a kaleidoscope of color, swirls
And twirls and spins

Sometimes the emptiness of want
Is filled with the intangible
Awareness that nothing stays long, save
Consequence infallible

Sometimes, it is enough to reel
Beneath the surreal winnowing
Of sand within the hour-glass; we pass but once
This way of things

© Janet Martin

In His Hands...

We are in His hands
No need for us to hold
The bleeding weight of shifting sands
For God is in control

We are in His hands
In spite of storm-tossed grief
The wind and waves heed His command
‘Lord, help mine unbelief’

We are in His hands
No sweeter peace can be
Than to entrust to Him the strands
Weaving eternity

We are in His hands
Faith, hope and love abide
Within the keep of He who stands
Within life’s tempest-tide

We are in His hands
No need for us to know
The bleeding way of shifting sands
God will not let us go

© Janet Martin

He said to them, "Why are you afraid, you men of little faith?" Then He got up and rebuked the winds and the sea, and it became perfectly calm. The men were amazed, and said, "What kind of a man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?" Matt. 8:26-27

And Jesus said to him, "'If You can?' All things are possible to him who believes." Immediately the boy's father cried out and said, "I do believe; help my unbelief." When Jesus saw that a crowd was rapidly gathering, He rebuked the unclean spirit, saying to it, "You deaf and mute spirit, I command you, come out of him and do not enter him again."…Mark 9:23-25

For All Those Things We Cannot Change

For all those things we cannot change
And all those things we do not know
For facts than none can rearrange
Of holding near or letting go
For high and low and in between
For faith and hope to cheer this day
For peace in spite of the unseen
We can do but one thing; we pray 

...and we pray, not to gods we see
Of sticks and stones or bricks and clay
We pray to He who tends the tree
And breaks the dark to light the day
We pray to He who sees beneath
The veil of flesh from heaven's throne
No frantic last resort is He
Who understands our wordless groan

No plea too great, no cry too small
This God who bends the wind, cups seas
Hears each sincere and selfless call
In Him there are no 'least of these'
So, for those things so hard to bear
Or understand, God grant that we
Within the solace of a prayer
May trust the answers, Lord, to Thee

© Janet Martin

Aren't you glad we can 'carry everything to God in prayer'?

Monday, October 20, 2014

Out There...

Out there where summer fell like autumn’s harvest-ready fruit
And twilight tolls, lonesome bell-tone rolling through stricken wood
Thought is a tower window overlooking year-swept plains
The air soul-sweet and heavy wrapped in purple autumn rains

Out there where we too once inhaled the scent of darling dreams
And hours were steel stumbling blocks impeding moment-streams
We leaped carefree, oblivious to chiseled undertows
Intent upon the stepping-stones strung where tomorrow glows

Out there where we marveled at seasons spilling in full bloom
We stooped to collect fragments free-falling from heaven’s loom
Then, suddenly we paused, startled by serenades of yore  
Discovery is double-edged and slices to the core

Out there where once we stumbled in love’s ever- learning shroud
When we became acquainted with the ‘nevers’ we avowed
Now a new generation disembarks on virgin fell
Out there where summer falls and calls new dreamers to its swell   

© Janet Martin


He is old-fashioned;
Crème Brulee charmer
Seducing hearts
While he robs us of summer
Dipping each spire
In fire and bronze
While we romanticize
He covers lawns
With swindled whispers
And dwindling of dreams
We collect pictures
Of leaf-laden streams
Tasting all things apple
And pumpkin and spice
… he steals away summer
While we murmur 'nice'
Intoxicated by
Wood-smoke on dusk-dark
Or pungent, pressed leaves
As we walk through the park
Trying to ignore
That inner tugging roar
Where summer-sighs barter
And autumn-bards war
And nature turns drowsy
As Apollo broods
An old-fashioned charmer
Dismantling the woods
Etching gaunt outlines
Against haunting knell
As we wade full-smitten
Through a sea of farewell

© Janet Martin

That's how it felt yesterday while I was out walking...fully, so fully in love with a charming, old-fashioned swindler drowning daylight in dusk, sauntering away with another 'gone forever' tucked neatly in his pocket.