Flu-poem

This poem is made possible only because I'm feeling better than I was!😐

Shiver and shake

and fever and ache

and oh, nothing one can do

But lie and rest

 and remember how blessed

are days without the flu!

Janet

Point of View (have-to or get-to)

I was immediately challenged while writing this...

Someone called and woke up Sleeping Baby and I had to...oops, got to, change my 'plans' 

(This is written with the remembrance that some things we simply 'have-to'!

But even in the dark parts we 'get-to' choose whether we trust the Light, right?)

Wherever we are going 

Whatever we must do

We choose its joy or burden

By a 'Have to' or 'get to' view

Perception picks the colors

Of gray or blue and gold

Where faith or fear will offer

A 'have-to' or 'get-to' mold

How simple seems the format

Where choice will soon become

The happiness or heartache

Of have-to or get to's sum

Janet Martin

inspired by this morning's devotional reading

 

Prelude To 'Pass the Cookies, Please'

 Hoping to use a lot of these baking terms today😋

Press upon our hearts the reason for the season as we press

Cookies into stars and bells and other sugared happiness

Stir our souls with awe’s soft thunder for Hope’s splendor as we stir

Flour-sugar-butter-wonder into treats for him and her

Pour into thought’s mighty measure, more of You, Lord, as we pour

As we mix a moment’s pleasure into echo-lands of yore

Sift our spirit, strain out pride and worry as we whisk and sift

Lest the little lumps we discount are the sin that spoils the gift

Warm and melt to heartfelt worship, any hard, cold bitterness

As we work, make us a picture of contentment’s humble 'yes'

Knead until smooth, uncouth motive as we beat and whip and knead

Then when we pass out the cookies Christmas will be sweet indeed

© Janet Martin

and a bit of cookie-humour! 

Flicker

 No time to lose when it comes to Seizing the Moment!

like that moment when you sit a bit 

...and your lap is plunked full of books and babyish 'Weab!'(read)

The Mostly Messy...

It's all just a flicker on the wind... of change.

Doesn't every year seem to pass a little quicker than the flicker before?!

 This is either seven poems or one (you choose) I kinda pegged away at it all day

between household chores, and kissing Grandson's golden-curls etc!

No Time to lose; its ancient dues contingent on each breath

Constant rejuvenation from the archives of its death

Torment and titillation tug and tease; Today, a bark

That sails wide-open seas and disappears into the dark

To leave upon the trampled shoreline of the place it graced

A surreal awareness of what cannot be retraced

Away, away the essence of sheer presence woos and wanes

Where mourning and rejoicing fills its flue with loss and gains

Intangible Before bestows, as it runs through our touch

The ever-after-echoes of its laughter-tears and such

Where sky-high rafters ring with woeful sting and soulful sigh

As we grapple with shadow-dappled wings of days gone by

Time jars and scars where hours fall like stars on hearts and cheeks

An orb that flares and fades then turns to days and days to weeks

Then months, then years, ethereal spheres that spiral through our skin

Like trapeze artists light as air and less than paper-thin

They press the child toward grown men or women who become

Beneath the breath of tick and tock the graves projected sum

No time to spare; this thoroughfare where longing wars with peace

And ignites passion with ‘perhaps’ then signals its release

Teaches the students of its law unalterable Truth

How no one can outsmart the soft undoing of swift youth

…how hosts that toast the god of boast, like pompous puppeteers

Will someday be exposed; then who will save them from their fears

No time to waste; where touch and taste remembers and forgets

Dawn pirouettes, begets high noon then dusky silhouettes

While nature’s medals, summer’s petals, fall like russet snow

As young to old brave heat and cold of living’s come and go

And trade the wilding ways of Want for gaze, gentler and kind

Heartened by simpler Happiness of humble daily grind

No Time to hate; the greatest good of life is always love

It has nothing to hide; needs no excuse its worth to prove

It does not pick and choose nor act on narcissistic aim

But flows from giver to the world without excuse or shame

To make a little brighter-lighter, someone’s trouble-pack

Asking for nothing in return and holding nothing back

No time to leave undone, unsaid the best of say and do

Each precious day is never guaranteed to be seen through

The fragile thread that separates the living from the dead

Is held by Heaven’s holy hope or Hades hellish dread

We choose; no time to lose; before the Soul succeeds the man

As Time is snuffed; the flicker before Mercy’s Master Plan



 © Janet Martin

Perfect Timing!

What a perfect day

To do the best we can

With what we have

For He who gave

His all for fallen man

What a perfect day

To do our humble part

To prove to Him

Our love for Him

With kind and gentle heart

What a perfect day

To make a memory

With what we have

For He who gave

This day to you and me

© Janet Martin

Happy Hoping! Happy Celebrating! (and Happy Shopping;-)

 My heart started to do the panic-flutter when I saw how many days are left til Christmas...

until Someone nudged me toward the window, to take a deep breath 

and remember Who we are celebrating! Now!

It suddenly replaced panic of  'how-am-I-going to-do-it?!' 

with the peace of 'We-are-going-to-do-it!'

Thank-you Lord!

Off to pick up a head-full-of-golden-curls-little-fellow! Wink😉

(two bowls entertained these two longer the other morning, than a whole box full of toys!)

When we lose sight of thankfulness

We lose the joy of giving

And when we lose the joy of this

We lose the joy of living

For what is better than the art

Of smile upon a face

Inspired by a thankful heart

Of gentleness and grace

The longer that we live we learn

(If we will do with less)

That nothing gives joy in return

Like humble thankfulness

© Janet Martin

...and an oldie from a few years ago

Happiness Is Not Like Socks

Happiness is not a toy

That soon loses its first joy

Happiness is not like socks

We can’t fit it in a box

Happiness is not a Steal

Lure of sale-sticker appeal

We don’t pick its shape or size

By the color of its eyes

We can’t wrap it up, oh no

Nor garnish it with a bow

We won’t find it on store-shelves

We can’t buy it for ourselves

Happiness is not like Stuff

Packed inside a box of fluff

It is a strange paradox

Not like balls or blocks or socks

Happiness is a free prize

If... 

we learn where it’s secret lies
For...

We can not keep it and yet

The more we give the more we get

 © Janet Martin