Saturday, January 21, 2017

In Spite Of Its Costume



 'It's a very nice day', remarked little Luke yesterday, 
with his back turned to the gray-drippy outdoors and his eyes pre-tasting the colorful fruit treat he was mixing...

We've had gray-on-gray day-after-day for more mornings than any of us would choose 
but we don't decide the color of dawn's dress...
and though at first glance each gray day may seem like a carbon-copy of the previous we know no two are alike in spite of its costume!



That gold gong in yon belfry is muffled by gray on gray
Wall-to-wall tulle keeps the full sweep of countryside at bay
Those ‘pastures green’ we dream of wallow in a world of mud
Earth’s tree-lines skimmed with breathy brume and winter’s bastioned bud

Gladness is like a song we sing in spite of what is not
The sadness-es deemed for this day will spill hope’s care-filled lot
Life’s sit-and-spin, its grit-and-grin, its what-must-be-will-be
Flings wide the door of every morn to opportunity

Daybreak is like a lake, lack-luster; lost in in its own fray
Its landscape lies beneath a cape of shapeless, weightless gray
We wake and sleep, weep, laugh and leap across its brief commune
And make the best it, oh yes, in spite of its costume

© Janet Martin

 How are you making Best today?!
I think I'll kitchen putter with some cleaning-cooking-baking! 
I've NEVER heard any complaints yet when I choose this Saturday-activity­čśÇ




Friday, January 20, 2017

Something Worth Striving For...To Be, Not Simply Do



I've found when my attitude is not as it should be then no matter how good the deed may seem, the joy and blessing of its Doing is missed



The Doing and the Being
Not so very far apart
But one is rendered by the hand
The other by the heart

I’d rather be with someone kind
Than one who does kind things
For someone who is kind, is kind
No matter what life brings

Be good, be kind, be patient
This is more than sound advice
It makes the person who we are
Inside be, not do ‘nice’

© Janet Martin


 Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.
Prov.3:7




Thursday, January 19, 2017

Thursday Thoughts in Pho-etry



© Janet Martin

So Begins Another Day




This little guy prefers sleeping to eating making for a fretting frazzled mommy!
Much patience-training already for new mommy and daddy...

Tip-toes touch down on time’s runway
And so begins another day
Labor lends its incumbent quest
We, still by Adam’s curse, most blest

Both friend and foe of woe and cheer
We don day’s ‘go’ of laughter-tear
The imminence of what will be
Only the eyes of God can see

We would be sore afraid in thought
Dawn’s Door, a gate to we-know-not
With trembling mustard-seed-size faith
We trust the Lord who heeds each breath

Futile to fret for what is past
While dawn begets hope’s new-day cast
We reach to touch the Giver’s hand
…so much we do not understand

I have heard people, two-feet shod
Declare they live but don’t need God
While lungs are filled with new-morn air
And they inhale grace unaware

We, poor creatures of needy noise
Dependent all, earth’s girls and boys
We gulp time’s gifted grant…Love grins
While mercy-fruit drips from our chins

© Janet Martin

 Sometimes I find the hardest move I make all day is the one where I swing my legs over the side of a comfy, cozy bed and move to the upright position! Once my feet are on the floor I no longer want to sleep but oh, the oomph to get them there!
...and so begins another day
Who knows what will be but these...Goodness and mercy for our needs


Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Somewhere Summer



Somewhere dewy daybreak blushes
Spills to gardens rainbow-spun
Somewhere velvet vesper hushes
Barefoot banter, sleepy sun

Somewhere hills are decked with daisy
Woodlands sire wanderlust
Somewhere afternoon wilts, hazy
Glazed with silt of harvest-dust

Somewhere raindrops melt in mirrors
Luring lads to more than look
Somewhere green is earth's prime color
Sculpts the bank that cups the brook

Somewhere destiny delivers
Somewhere blossom-beauty grins
Somewhere midnight’s homage quivers
From mist-silver violins

Somewhere boyish breezes murmur
Turquoise sea-song strums white sand
Somewhere, somewhere soul-sweet summer
Deftly drains time’s dextrous hand

Winter wails but not forever
Day by day its gales unchain
Fond fairways for sweet, sweet summer
To find Her way here again

© Janet Martin