Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Forthwith of Days







Dawn bares the haste of Time’s ‘forthwith of days’
…sigh-stippled landscapes with skies intersect
Want, work and wonder their portions dissect
Keening our gaze to life’s quick-stricken ways

Nuance of circumstance, yesterday’s glance
Tethers our willfulness with naught but this;
Tick-by-tock offers and dust-to-dust kiss
Mirth and melancholy’s death-deigned romance

Music and monotone, laughter and groan
Dawn bares Time’s latest affairs made of these;
Moments doffed, petered into memories
Moments soft-metered into Steppingstone

Pragmatic, ecstatic, emphatic We
Weather the ‘Whethers’ of love’s highs and lows
What waits where dawn awakes, only God knows
We nurse Man’s Curse immersed in His mercy

© Janet Martin


 Ps.12
 Save, O Lord, for the godly one is gone;
    for the faithful have vanished from among the children of man.
Everyone utters lies to his neighbor;
    with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.

May the Lord cut off all flattering lips,
    the tongue that makes great boasts,
those who say, “With our tongue we will prevail,
    our lips are with us; who is master over us?”
“Because the poor are plundered, because the needy groan,
    I will now arise,” says the Lord;
    “I will place him in the safety for which he longs.”
The words of the Lord are pure words,
    like silver refined in a furnace on the ground,
    purified seven times.
You, O Lord, will keep them;
    you will guard us from this generation forever.

On every side the wicked prowl,
    as vileness is exalted among the children of man.



Monday, August 29, 2016

Love's Souvenir



 (for all parents with loved ones moving out to return to school)

It is the color of August, bronze-burnished
It is the murmur of sky-high true blue
It is the whisper of hours relinquished
It is the longing in summer’s adieu

It is the almost touching of our fingers
It is the ache of a slow-breaking heart
It is the waft of soft echoes that linger
Where time dismantles its breath-taking art

It is the fading of flower-fringed fencerows
Petal-parts scattered on time’s avenue
It is a tug-of-heart flipside of hellos
It is love’s souvenir;  missing you

© Janet Martin

Melissa doesn't move until Sunday, 
but already I sense an immense missing-you ache...


The Thing That Counts





It’s not in the number of dollars we earn
Or in how much treasure we lay in store
The measure of pleasure in life’s return
Depends on Who we are doing it for

It’s not in whether skies are gray or blue
Or what this-or-that’s ultimatum will prove
The pleasure of all that we say and do
Depends, in the end, on its measure of love

How hollow the loveless laughter cold-rings
How shallow the self-aggrandizing toast
How lovely are life’s simple, common-place things
When love is the reason that matters most

© Janet Martin


Green Again...




The misty morning was motionless, save for one meandering cow...

 
When the ground is hard and dry, and the sky
Is hazy, a pallor that hovers aloft
We long for the green days to run their sigh
Under our feet like a carpet, soft
And then we are glad for the rain to drench
The lack-luster landscape and quench its thirst
As all that seemed lifeless is green again
After the rafters of heaven have burst
And blessings we never numbered before
Becomes something we are most thankful for

© Janet Martin



It's so nice to be able to walk across the soft, green lawn again where the ouch-ouch-ouch
of dry, brown  prickles used to be... 



What blessings have you re-noticed lately because
of the absence of it for a while. 
 What blessing do you re-value in your own life as you see another
learn to live without it, such as able body, able mind, the presence of a loved one, 
freedom, etc.


For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground;Isa.44:3

 Isaiah 55:1
"Ho! Every one who thirsts, come to the waters; And you who have no money come, buy and eat. Come, buy wine and milk Without money and without cost.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

More Than Mere Must





Oh Lord, you know
Our heart of hearts
Where somber, secret
Sorrow smarts
You hear those words
 We cannot speak
Save in a tear
Upon the cheek

Thank-you Lord
Then help us trust
Grant love to do more
Than Mere Must


© Janet Martin 

 Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee.
Ps.119:11