Prelude to Spring-song

Beneath the mute and mirthless shield

Of March-bedraggled cover

Tarries the bliss of daisy field

Of Queen Ann’s lace and clover

Beneath this staid and cheerless scrim

Of hollow quiet ringing

Trembles the touch that probes the limb

Into bloom-petal singing

Beneath the silent, snow-clenched scope

Of winter’s weary gumption

Quivers a season of new hope

And spring-song’s glad redemption

Soon this white space will bear the grace

Of emerald-golden sashes

As winter renders its embrace

To silver spring-song splashes

© Janet Martin

Something Softly Stealing...

The east is bathed in primal hints

Of something softly stealing

Across the ocean’s onyx glint

And midnight’s mystic ceiling

The past consumes each moment spent

The fount of future flowing

From vaults of mercy heaven-lent

To mortal touch bestowing

As on the brim where earth and sky

Meld in gold correlation

Midnight has laid its garment by

In morning celebration

Footsteps fatigued at dusk’s descent

Hearts heavy with care’s measure

Embrace life’s fervor once again

As mercy spills its pleasure

© Janet Martin

When I got up this morning the east was embellished with a gold and pink metallic sash, quickly dissolved in blue-gray wash so I used a photo from the archives.

Chicken-pox

When ya’ got the chicken-pox

You can’t be wearin’ shoes or socks

‘cause chicken pox got no respect

But perch on feet-soles, scalp and neck

And every crease, cranny of skin

That they can manage to squeeze in

When chicken-pox make a house-call

They are not courteous at all

We don’t see them till they hatch

And all we want to do is scratch

But mother says that we must not

Oh, how I hate the chicken-pox

'Bring me a swab of calamine,
A drink, a bath of oatmeal-grime'

How sweet and happy life will be

When I get past this misery

Of burning, itching agony

And chicken-pox melancholy

© Janet Martin

She prefers to be living in an oatmeal-bath these days;)

"Victoria; in the words of my mother, 'this too shall pass'. "

At least they will be better by Saturday, her 12th birthday!

Solace

 My 'Happy-place' is the corner of our living-room or The Poet's Den where I recently moved my ever-expanding poetry collection.

Poetic Bloomings invites us the share our 'happy place' today.

Soft surrender like no other

It’s a bit like coming home

To the arms of gentle mother

In the comfort of a poem

Timeless treasure tunes the silence

Promises from God to men

Murmur in the troubled darkness

As His whisper moves my pen

Ache of longing, fear of morrow

Flows in quiet tenderness

Melding pleasure, pain and sorrow

In this think-in-ink caress

Healer of heart-ache and hunger

Troubadour of sonnet-song

Passion, prayer and promise murmur

In the solace of a poem

© Janet Martin

Wonderful, Wondrous Wonder

 

We repent and are forgiven

What a wondrous, glorious thing

There is just one way to Heaven

Through the lifeblood of a King

Not by works or gold and silver

Is His justice satisfied

But as we trust sin's Deliverer

Him; Jesus Christ crucified

Oh, what love and great compassion

Suffering so we may live

Once for all; infinite offering

When we ask Him He forgives

© Janet Martin

When my hubby asked what was so urgent as I stumbled out of bed and turned on the computer I tried to explain to him through choked emotion, how sometimes it awes me anew ‘we repent and He forgives’. There is no limit to the mercy of the Kings of kings and Lord of Lords; the One who shed His own blood so we may live.

What Did You Come to See?

What did you come to see?

A reed tossed in the wind?

A man in fine array?

A voice of one crying?

What did you come to see?

The horror of blood shed?

A corpse of suffering

With thorns upon His head?

What did you come to see?

A cross? A king? A thief?

Or did you come to see a Lamb

Bearing atonement's grief?

Why did you come to gaze

At heaven’s mercy-seat?

Was it your hatred or your love

That drew you to His feet?

What did you come to see

As He cried, ‘it is done’?

A man upon a tree

Or Jesus, God’s own Son?

© Janet Martin

Like a Lamb

She tiptoed in on silver scrim

Of February’s waning

While poets slept softly she crept

Beneath Time’s astral awning

The gilded wing of darling spring

Consoles the frosted tresses

Beneath night’s arch keen, moody March

Whispers of Easter dresses

The phantom skien of moment-mein
Employs its muted measure
As on the hearth of quiet earth
We greet Spring's sweet harbinger

© Janet Martin

I think March came in like a lamb; calm but very cold!

Life's Moment-sky

 This morning life's moment-sky is as colorless and bleak as the landscape.

In my heart of hearts I know

This time beneath life’s moment-sky

Is but a twinkling ebb and flow

Before we bid its gasp good-bye

This time beneath life’s moment-sky

Is a scabbard of mystery

And none of us can prophesy

The details shaping history

Its keen, ephemeral ebb and flow

Will test and try our boasted trust

For none of us can really know

Our depth of faith until we must

Before we bid its gasp good-bye

May we acknowledge only this

…One greater than life’s moment-sky

Prevails, and where we are HE IS

© Janet Martin

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

The truck my husband drives broke down shortly after he loaded in Sask. yesterday. Since no mechanic has time to even look at it until next week he is flying home this morning. We never know what a day will bring and it is better in the long run that we do not. God provides grace and strength in our hour of need and only for the hour we are in!