Sunday, April 20, 2014

Easter Song

 

  
Praise He who is not dead
He is the King of kings
Come, offer up your fear and dread
Where Love transcends all things

Death conquers death, as Life
Breaks forth in ageless laud
Earth’s sepulchers of stone could not
Constrain the Lamb of God

Grief turns to joyful song
Come; see what He has said,
Why do you seek the Living One
Among these mortal dead’?

I AM. I AM. I AM.
His love would not withhold
From sinners lost, a Perfect Lamb
As Prophets long foretold

Yet thorn and scorn and foe
And Death could never claim
The Victory; Jesus arose
Ah, sing that sacred Name

For Death has conquered death
The veil twixt man and Priest
Is rend in two; He bids us come
To taste the marriage feast

Praise Him; He is alive
Jesus, Jesus receive
His love will rescue and forgive
All those who will believe


© Janet Martin

 For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures...
1 Cor. 15:3-5 

Wishing each of you a  Blessed Easter Day.




Saturday, April 19, 2014

Green



PAD Challenge day 19: choose a color for your poem title

We press through life’s marketplaces
Winter cold and summer heat
Holding hands and kissing faces
Arabesque of bittersweet

We fill baskets with life-moments
 Amethyst and baby’s breath
For we cannot see the fulcrum
Pivoting twixt life and death

…as we dash through fields of flowers
To a skyline out of reach
Save to sundry sweep of hours
Washing over brawny beach

We embrace, knowing tomorrow
Bids us suffer parting’s pain
Yet we cannot quench with sorrow
Love; and so we love again

Asking nothing of God’s favor
But perhaps, if He would deem
Here and there a little picnic
On our own wee patch o’ green

© Janet Martin


Colombian





 PAD challenge Day 19: make a color the title of your poem.

If I had to choose
only one hue from life’s color spectrum
it would have to be you
…You who rouses me from sleep
in aromatic pleasantries
Let others steep virtuous green teas
I prefer you; Platonist teaser
of Colombian romance
filling my taste-buds
with morning’s first dance
I close my eyes now
…ah yes, supple and slow
you unleash the miracle
of Colombian glow
not in the east
or past hills to the south
but swallow
after swallow
in my mouth

© Janet Martin

Azure





PAD Challenge day 19: make a color your title and write your poem

I lost her in your endless eyes
While she was chasing butterflies
Through fields of periwinkle youth
Before the cuff of crimson truth
Dragged her through mud and umber dirt
Where still nature’s four seasons flirt
With things like holding-letting-go
And emerald isles and white-white snow
She turns, startled to realize
She lost herself in azure eyes
…forgetting that in tick of clocks
Come silver sighs through golden locks
Where time takes flight
In dark and light,
Its ebony, chartreuse disguise
Yielding at noon to azure eyes
And there, ah, there, she twirled and danced
To melodies by love enhanced
Letting the hour have its way
Before your azure turned to gray
And giddy kiss of coral dawn
Drew charcoal shadows on the lawn
Beneath an awning sequin-swept
And where your azure laughter wept
She disappeared; you kiss her face
But now a woman takes her place

© Janet Martin

When Springtime Spills in Daffodils...



 I took a picture of this dell on my walk the other night...it is waiting for spring to spill in daffodils and green, and lilacs and forget-me-not. These trees, like most around here are ready to begin healing after a grueling winter that just does not want to quit.

When springtime spills in daffodils
And tattered dells don robes of green
…and babbling brooks wear blue-sky sheen
…and apple trees flaunt blossom frills
Then little lads kick off their shoes
And earth is glad in rainbow hues
When springtime spills in daffodils
 Gold kiss to Mother Nature’s muse

Then springtime jots forget-me-not
Where now the copse is dull and bare
Without wild flowers in her hair
Or lilacs in her wooded lot
Where daydreams waken as we lie
Half-sleeping ‘neath an azure sky
Then springtime jots forget-me-not
Like ellipses scattered awry

When springtime laughs on garden paths
And tickles dust between bare toes
And splashes freckles on Fred’s nose
Winking where winter poured its wrath
And ice-white barrenness had been
When the whole world is young and green
And springtime laughs on garden paths
Then everyone is seventeen

© Janet Martin


Friday, April 18, 2014

Weathered by Weather...

video


We have had one truly warm day since last fall.(Oct.12,2013 was perfect weather but we really have had very little to get excited about weather-wise since then) I don't believe in grumbling about weather but it is okay to wish, right?  After so much snow and rain the lawn is a soggy mattress. Robins are anxiously waiting for worms and we are anxious to get out and clean up after last Dec.'s ice-storm. The branches have been buried in snow ever since! side-note; exactly a year ago we were cleaning up after April's ice-storm. Both storms resulted in huge and long power-outages so I am not really complaining about a bit of snow this week, or rain, yet we are all hungry for sun and thinking of farmers becoming more restless with each passing week of patience-testing...

PAD challenge day 18: write a weather poem

Love me with your lips of gold
Darling, I am not a king
But a beggar shivering
Where your eye is gray and cold

I would lie prostrate and still
In the middle-afternoon
Just to feel your whisper swoon
Over me in violet thrill

Did I mention, I am cold?
My defense of you is weak
Where you kiss my weathered cheek  
Philanderer; bullish and bold

You embellish your advance
With bird-song and nature-lilt
Scorned, I huddled 'neath a quilt
Subjected to raw romance

...of sub-zero April gray
Love should not keep score, but oh
I miss your golden laughter so
Darling, have you lost you way?

 Janet Martin






More Than Tears

  

May I be moved
To more than tears
As I think
of Jesus Christ
Love left Heaven
To become
For my sin,
Sacrifice

May I be moved
To more than awe
Jesus,
As I contemplate
Your Perfection
Bathed in red
Pleading for
My hopeless state

May I be moved
To more than this;
Recognition
Of my need
As His blood
And righteousness
Defends Adam’s
Sin-cursed seed

May I be moved
Beyond myself
Lips, fingers
And footsteps shod
With touch-wonder
As I live
Every day
To serve my God

© Janet Martin




Full Atonement

  
(another old Favorite 'repeat' song

Full atonement, can it be?
Every sin-stain washed away
Words seem trite; how can I say
'Thank-you for Your love for me'?

Full atonement, not in part
Ah redemption, Mercy's gift
Satisfies that hopeless rift
 Twixt His Heaven and my heart

Full atonement,diadem
Pressed in thorns upon His head
Holiest of Holy pled
'Oh my Father, forgive them'

Full atonement; God so loves
Everyone. Will we believe
And His wondrous gift recieve
That only the cross would prove?

Full atonement; dare we face
When this little life is done
Judgement day, Father and Son 
Having rejected His grace? 

Full atonement, thank-you Lord
For the sacrifice you made
As sin's awful debt was paid
Through Your blood on Calv'ry poured

 Janet Martin

For God so loved the world
that He gave His only begotten Son
that whosoever believeth in Him
should not perish but have
everlasting life
For God sent not His Son into the world
to condemn the world;
but that the world through Him
might be saved

John 3: 16-17

More Easter Poems here.





Thursday, April 17, 2014

Without This Hope

Without This Hope
we symbolize
In pictures
of a cross
Our faith would be
a painted guise
Of damnation
and dross

Without This Hope mortality would suffer without cause
Death would be our destiny without Hope through the cross
Without This Hope in our Lord each touch, each job done well
Would be a steppingstone toward a brink of endless hell

Without this hope
Of saving grace
What comfort
Could there be?
To know there is
No resting-place
For all eternity
Without This Hope
No joy could thrive
How futile
Every plea
If Jesus Christ
Did not forgive
And set the
Sinner free

© Janet Martin

I know I've shared this song before but its one of my all-time favorites.

  

 I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable.  Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed,  in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.  For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.  When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.” 
 “O death, where is your victory?
    O death, where is your sting?”
 The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. 1 Cor. 15: 50-58

This Aching, Breaking Tide



Listening to Celtic Thunder spawns sudden, unexpected poetry...the beginning of this song sparked a sense akin to a tidal wave...



This aching, breaking tide
Dashes against a wall
Of morning-noon-and-night
Heart-wrenching madrigal
Silk silver on a street
Beneath our feet that dance
This aching, breaking tidal-wave
Perplexes thought’s romance

For kisses soon grow cold
And arms can never hold
The surge of moments passing through
Time’s glass of gray and gold
‘Aha, aha’, we say
And clench a foolish fist
This aching, breaking tidal-wave
Dissolves in vapor mist

The night is seldom heard
And where the morning stirred
We dash headlong into its waters
Of hope undeterred
Ere noon soon poises on
Earth’s morning-night divide
Before its little lilt will join
Time’s aching, breaking tide

The sound of silence roars
And pours through bolted doors
While we are busy making plans
And filling hands with chores
A pocket full of dreams
Drains into morn-noon-night
We stuff our cheeks with drops gleaned from
Its aching, breaking tide

© Janet Martin

Easter Poem Meditation...tweaked repost

 

He could have sent a prophet
A servant, meek and low
To bear the sword of evil
And hatred's cruel blow
He could have sent a king of earth
A pauper or a priest
He had the pow'r to place His worth
Within a mindless beast
He could have sent His angels
Legions to fill the sky
To spare Himself the anguish
Of watching His Son die
He could have, with one uttered word
Declared all man forgiven
 Or from His supreme visage stirred
The rocks to shout salvation
But no, He chose to put on flesh
The Sacred Son of Heaven
Became a servant unto men
In form, lowly and human
Upon a cross He gave Himself
A King and Royal Priest
And not one drop of love withheld
As death’s curse was released
He could have sent an army
To face the fiends of hell
But He loved us so completely
That He sent Himself

Janet

 who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.…Phil.2:6-8