Immaculate Immunity

How swiftly, deftly change prevails

And folds away the old for New

The penmanship of air exhales

What ink struggles to shape into

A legacy of sorts before

The Hand of Change ushers to naught

That which seemed so familiar

Tangled somewhere twixt thought and jot

How easily change fills the shoes

Which yesterday were far too large

Before they turned into adieus

Delivered on time’s moment-barge

While on the shore as we implore

For the return of some fair Past

We taste the salt and sense the roar

Where winds of Change govern time's mast

How fragile is This agile quip

How frail the grail in which soul’s dwell

How quick from change to change we slip

Like garments of hello-farewell

And we wonder if anything

Is spared the reach of change uncouth

Ah yes, comes Mercy whispering

One thing will never change; The Truth

© Janet Martin

“No way!” was Matt’s response when I told him the sermon we just listened to at our supper-devotions was first preached in the 1800’s and yet, still as applicable in every respect today as it was then, because Truth does not change.

In Perfect Bloom

Now breaks the bud, now spills a thrilling sheen

From mud and bark-dark berths of earth, as surge

Of things hoped for emerges, virgin-green

Where joy and sorrow-splurges purge and merge

In dirge and celebration on the tongue

For New ever replenishes the old

And whether we are weathered, love, or young

Spring is a Thing of wonder to behold

Now breaks the vault where cold and winter-long

We suffered the return of flower-song

The appetite of midnight brings us dawn

And winter always, always ends in spring

The hurt of life, though hard and heavy on

The heart is oft expedient to bring

Us nearer to the One who holds the thread

Of gray and gold running through blood-bought grace

Thus, ever as Past-Present-Future wed

The fount of moments springs from God’s embrace

To we, at the measure and mercy of

Not merely seasons, but Abysmal Love

Ah look, and tremble at God’s wonder where

The full of it is veiled as yet until

He deems the hour fit to bear or wear

The flower soft unfolding in His will

…now breaks the Bud, now spills the will of spring,

Summer, autumn, winter, four-season’s worth

Until there is no Time left on the string

Extending from His fingers to the earth

Where from the berth of mud and bark-dark womb

The bud breaks forth at last in perfect bloom

© Janet Martin

That house there between the trees is where my neighbor Arnold lives. He is in hospital, weary and totally worn out from his cancer-fight and yesterday his wife told me, oh, pray that he can die in peace...he is so ready for his new body and there comes a time when letting go is kinder than holding on.'
I know they would appreciate our prayers.

Going Against the Nature of Us

PAD Challenge day  22: For today’s prompt, write a nature poem.

Born with a nature to rebel

We, the people, get in trouble

Mastering our daily selves

requires submission and humble

heart and mind-endeavor

...putting God then others first

Contrary to human nature

with which, it seems,we are cursed

...but not forgotten or forsaken

God in us grants a new way

Amazing selfish desires

As we trust Him and obey

Janet Martin~

 All things are lawful for me, but not all things are helpful; all things are lawful for me, but not all things edify.  Let no one seek his own, but each one the other’s well-being. 1 Cor. 10:23

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything. - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Denial#sthash.saOIqVAo.dpuf

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything. - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Denial#sthash.saOIqVAo.dpuf

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything. - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Denial#sthash.saOIqVAo.dpuf

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything. - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Denial#sthash.saOIqVAo.dpuf

I still remember how my mom used to chuckle at how soon, even in a baby, Adam-nature was apparent...the rebelling to safety-gates and other restraints put there for their safety and well-keeping...

All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything. - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Denial#sthash.saOIqVAo.dpuf

Understanding April

 After warm gold last week

 we're back to gray cold this week,

 but what we have is never all there is...

Drape your cape of gray around me

Something akin to violin lilt

Rides the breeze and ruffles the trees

Rousing the seamstress of green-thread gilt

Weigh the day in April showers

Purpose often does not tell its span

But lends tincture to the picture

Pressed kindly into God’s bigger plan

Laugh your autograph in raindrops

Trip across the dripping afternoon

For I can sense more than pretense

Wafting flower-laden in yon boon

© Janet Martin

Morning-view

Love will ever be the conqueror; never hate. Oh, if Hate could only see the Gate that opens as time's door closes...praying for suffering, sorrowing, fleeing survivors! God is faithful.

Star-sugared awning fades in the new dawning

Of who-knows-what-waits to-fill-it, but God

Mercy immerses where darkness disperses

In virgin Morning adorning sky-sod

Gold, pink and purple halos earth’s dust-circle

Waiting to suffer what only God knows

Still He is faithful in spite of sin’s awful

Lawless allowances trampling the Rose

We cannot see the whole story, God’s glory

Trails in the Heaven’s and wails in our tears

Into His keeping time’s hours are weeping

Morning soft-crowning what soon disappears

© Janet Martin

Praying for those poor, homeless, sorrowing survivors here

Praying for my neighbor Arnold and his family in his on going health-battle. (will you pray too?)

Praying for believers that we can remain faithful to the end, no matter where in the world we are!

What Are You, Gold-Gray-Blue?

Write a “what you are” poem, or…

Write a “what you are not” poem. 

PAD Challenge day 21 is a two-for-two Tues.

Walk, stroll, dash, loll

Hurry-scurry, amble

Life is more than dust-cajole

In a soul-shod scramble

Sit, stand, heed, command

Lead-and-follow mingling

Time is more than ether sand

Poured through thought and feeling

Eat, drink, swim, sink

War of More imploring

Soon the noon of it lies pink

On earth's west-brink shoring

Wake, sleep, toss, keep

Dark and daylight duel

In the heap-o-living, love

Here and there a jewel

You are not some futile jot

Dashed upon Time's pages

Nor a soon forgotten dot

Lost among the ages

 

Hope, pray, for today

With its trial-error

Is God's gifted blue-gold-gray

Leading to Forever

Janet Martin

Our Eternal Dwelling
…9Therefore we also have as our ambition, whether at home or absent, to be pleasing to Him. 10For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may be recompensed for his deeds in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad. 2 Cor.5:10

Wake, sleep, toss, keep

Dark and daylight duel

In the heap-o-living, love

Here and there a jewel

Lonely April Wind

 For a brief bit the sun high-lighted 'almost evening' before clouds scuttled over its attempts at warmth

The latticework of limb lies on day’s welkin winnowing

The air assumes the color of good-bye in every sigh

The back-drop of a rainy April ‘almost evening’

Tugs hard upon the heart-string like an echoed lullaby

   

Silence runs fingers over thought like Want without a name

Darkness is more than light’s denial where the daylight fell

Longing is not a person; no one can quite quell its flame

And rain in middle April after dusk ignites its swell

The wind moans, blue and hungry like a beggar at my door

A wail akin to November when it was hungry too

The fellowship of night-farers and sleepless troubadours

Vexes the face that watches from yon windows swaddled view

The lamplighter that wanders out among the stars is late

The dark enhanced by absent spark in heaven’s emptiness

The April night is weeping for a friendlier soul-mate

But all that it can find is the wind and its loneliness

© Janet Martin