Thursday Thoughts~

There is a war

Intense, hid from sight

It is the battle

Twixt wrong and right

Fear the day

Should its conflict cease

As numbed discernment

Brings an illusion of peace

There is a tug-of-war

In love’s two-toned beauty

The urge of desire

And dictation of duty

A long line of laundry

Is a testament

To a long line of love

No man can serve two masters

The servant makes his choice

No words are needed because action

Carries a definite voice

Dream, but only a little

It polishes the mundane

The line is fine twixt little and much

And to dream too much is vain

Dream, but only a little

Don’t let it mess with your head

Lest you stand and stare into the thin air

While someone else butters your bread

Hurry, hurry; don’t be late

Hell

And heaven

Do not wait

Spare change

Changes lives

On some days we…

…Live, laugh, love and play

On others we

…Weep, wish, work, pray

This must be my Muse’s queue

A list with many jobs to do

Never yet has darkness set in

Permanently

He who hath no shadows

Hath no light

Janet~

Why I Write...

I never can explain it quite

This need, it seems I have, to write…

But paper is a patient ear

No words are writ, it will not hear

It never assumes what is not

But simply listens to my thought

Here life's pleasures and sorrows spill

In whispers from a poet’s quill

I write to preserve moments past

Knowing ink’s measure will outlast

This transient, ephemeral shell

I write, for there is much to tell

But time is short and listeners rare

And spoken word is soon dead air

Thus I must write; a diary

Of thought engraved in poetry

I write because I love to read

To feel the passion mortal’s bleed

To thrill beneath their ageless thought

The mark of quill on parchment wrought

Of Tennyson, Longfellow, Frost

And countless throngs of voices lost

Had they not taken time to bare

With ink, the thoughts they longed to share

Tis no small thing to hold a pen

And spill heart-linings out to men

Of hope, of longing; these we summon

For mankind has this much in common

And with the written word we trace

The heartbeat of the human race

Manifested on a stage

In filament of ink and page

 

Tis no small thing; reaching to God

Seeking Him within my thought

Tis no small thing to contemplate

What to write; what to erase

…to paint in whispered ethereal art

Upon canvases of the heart

An earnest, resolute vocation

Generation to generation

…and so I write, not to become

A famous author, world-renowned

I write to touch the low-flung cloud

Or lonely souls lost in life’s crowd

I write; for it seems I cannot

Quell the vast ocean in my thought

And I am glad, so glad indeed

That others write, so I can read

© Janet Martin

My Homework for Writer's Unite is done!
Assignment: 200-300 words on Why I Write

Word Count;300 (phew!)

What are you doing? hubby asked a few nights ago when he called
I'm reading Treasure Valley, I replied. It was written in 1908 by Canadian author, Marian Keith.
Thank-you Marian,(although you were gone before I was born) for writing and sharing your beautiful, timeless perspective.

The Mind of a Poem

They tell me how I should write them

The rules to rhythm and rhyme

But they fall from my quill

By their own free will

Regardless of meter and time

They tell me how I should form them

Can I shape a river’s fray?

For a poet’s need

Is to sit down and bleed

Let the drops fall where they may

They tell me how I should mold them

But rules never could sway a poem

In the still of the night

As I sit here and write

Words have a mind of their own

© Janet Martin

In Those Moments

In those moments

When I’m tempted

To reach far into the past

And retrieve

A fancied fortune

From its archives, iron-cast

In those moments,

Though I’m tempted

I embrace the melody

Of the sweet

And fleeting present

Flowing into memory

...and though I’m tempted
In those moments

I release its aching grasp

Lest I miss

The precious present

Because I was looking back

Janet~

Today, as I was waiting in a check-out line we o-o-o-h-ed and a-a-a-h-ed over a new-born baby, and for a brief moment I was drenched in longing as I watched the ecstatic first-time mother….next week it will be twenty years since I was a first-time Mother; a mere flash, really. That is why I determine to live in the now!

Horizons

Gently it ripples, softly it is slipping

Green tide adorning earth’s fallow and slope

Out to the lips of cerulean grinning

A perimeter man cannot follow or grope

Where is the skyline that seals our visage?

Earth rushes out to brush azure-blue shores

Man rushes forward but we cannot touch it

Elusive allurement to ethereal doors

Wilderness, frontier, mountain or ocean

Grazes the furrow twixt seeing and faith

Gently it ripples; our thought and emotion

Tracing the edge of its blue, mystic wraith

Gossamer ribbon of infinite measure
We cannot race through its translucent seal
Nor stroll the breadth of its line at our leisure
And yet we know, the horizon is real

...it is, isn't it?

© Janet Martin

Horizons...the proof of faith.

Happy Birthday, Dave

Tonight when you look up to the sky, bro

And think of the years that have flown

Will there be a tear in your eye, bro

As you ponder the course of the sun?

…and tonight when you hear twilight’s sonnet

Quiver in the deepening west

Will you pause to remember life’s losses

Or how you have been richly blessed?

Tonight when you gaze at the stars, bro

Will you feel infinitely small?

And wonder that He who paints skies, bro

Should be mindful of man at all?

Tonight when you contemplate time, bro

Where will your musing dwell?

For you’ve known some up-hill climbs, bro

Disappointment; you know it well…

…but life is a canvas of mystery, bro

And God is a faithful Friend

As this year slips into history, bro

Do you wonder what waits ‘round the bend?

And tonight when you look at the sky, bro

Recalling the years that have passed

Will the only thing you really know

Be this? Life goes by way too fast

© Janet Martin

Happy 47^th Birthday, Dave…from one sky-lover to another…Enjoy!

Here is a teeny glimpse of my sky-shot collection:)

This is the time-frame where I always think of mom and wonder how she did it! My brother Stuart turned 45 on May 28th, Dave turns 47 today, I turn 46 next week and the following week my sister (the oldest child in our family) turns 48...!!! and as you can see in the previous post, Mom is still going strong!...after raising 10 children...after the first four she had 3  girls and then 3 boys!!! I remember we begged her (as if she ordered us from a catalog or something, to PL-E-E-E-ASE have a set of twins to complete our family...didn't happen:)

When things return to 'Normal'...

Mom giving Salome one of her favorite drinks...Ginger-ale. She cannot talk but her body language and gulping say it all!

‘Normal’ does not hover in tomorrow

Nor does it reside in the past

It is not a sweet, coveted hour

Waiting in regions dim and vast

‘Normal’ is not a state or condition

It carries no guarantee

It does not linger on pining or wishing

When this day is history

But ‘normal’ is the bloom we are holding

The moment that meets our gaze

For even now this ‘normal’ is folding

Into planted yesterdays

Who knows the nature of tomorrow’s ‘normal’?

Will its filament be leaden or gold?

And will we wish as we reminisce

For the ‘normal’ that now we hold?

© Janet Martin

How often do we find ourselves thinking 'when things return to normal'?  The other day I used this line when I was talking to my mother...When they brought dear Aunt Salome (in above photo) to their home- the Dr. said it was  'so she could spend her last days with loved ones in a non-hospital environment'. That happened almost four years ago. Salome is thriving beneath tender, loving care in spite of  Down's Syndrome, advanced Alzheimer's and complete physical inability; the DR. says her heart is strong. Salome turns 57 in a few weeks. I mentioned to Mom that 'someday when things return to 'normal', and she asked me to read the quote on her fridge. Its a reminder that 'the 'normals in life are now, for we cannot know what tomorrow's normals may be'. I have been thinking a lot about that...

Salome and her care-giver's are the inspiration in this article...Angels Among Us

You Love Us...

Jason  Gray: Remind Me Who I Am

You who breathed the universe

On vast infinity

Celestial bodies You disperse

In awesome majesty

You who designs fragile bloom

And rides upon the gale

You who conquered mortal doom

And rent the temple’s veil

You love us…

You who sees the sparrow fall

Who walks upon the sea

You, most Holy all in all

Died for humanity

Who paints the glory on the sky

The dawn, the dusk, the dark

Who heeds man’s faintest, humble cry

And gives wee faith its spark

You love us…

You love us, sure, steadfast promise

We cannot comprehend

The fullness of its height and depth

A love that has no end

No time or thing can separate us

From His faithful hand

Through darkest hours He carries us

Though we don’t understand

For He loves us

Forever and ever

Amen

© Janet Martin

neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us
from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.Romans 8:39

Spring's Goddess

 

 

Sunday Wordle #58: blur, cocoon, tongue, brittle, burnished, flinty, scrape, rough, barnacles, austere, drenched, chalk

The flinty glare of winter recedes to a blur

The rough, brittle limb and austere, burnished fields

Are drenched in the ravishing textures of Her

As in countless shades Her abundance she yields

The cocoon-bud breaks open in Her verdant embrace

Barnacles bloom beneath Her florid brush

She is a tongue of emerald grace

Scraping winter’s chalk-lines from hills fair and lush

Earth is a ball-room of aureate bliss

Softly we touch the robe of this queen

For beauty and blossom unfurls in her kiss

She is spring’s goddess and her name is Green

© Janet Martin

The Sunday Whirl~

Scarlet-echoed Breath

Image Source: freedom.portwallpaper.com

Oh, have we savored it today?

Inhaled its glorious air

Or have we paused a bit to pray

And thank God for His care?

Perhaps we’ve thought of those who fell

To look against the sky

With fading breath; the cannon’s knell

Their victory lullaby

Have we, as through our lungs it pours

In scarlet-echoed breath

Have we remembered blood-bathed shores

Of horror, pain and death

And are we filled with gratitude

To stand among the free

Inhaling this most priceless gift

The air of liberty

...and have we bowed in earnest prayer

to plead with God above

that we do not hold lightly here

this freedom that we have

© Janet Martin

Love's Sacred Knot

The tie that binds

Oh, sacred thread

Woven by Holy God

As vows unite

Two hearts to one

And ties love’s hallowed knot

The tie that binds

No hand or pen

Its tenure can annul

Oh, precious cord

Secured by He

Who gives the knot its pull

The tie that binds

Love’s cherished bond

Of truth and faithfulness

A shackle

Not of cumbrous weight

But trust and tenderness

The tie that binds

Its filament

No human hand can sever

The tie that binds

Husband and wife

As God joins them together

© Janet Martin

The Ties that Bind...Don Williams

Non-optional Juxtaposition

We are teachers;

We are students

Someone is watching

when we least expect

Action is speech

It tests our fluent

creation derived

of alphabet

Action is merely

a thought’s reflection

Thought is formed

by what we absorb

We teach while we learn

A juxtaposition

of far-reaching impact

we cannot ignore

We are teachers;

and we are students

No one escapes

this practical truth

We are never too old

to cease our learning

yet we become teachers

in tender youth

…for there is always

somebody following

observing the choices

we thoughtlessly make

Action speaks volumes

Love and compassion

are beautiful legacies

we cannot fake

Action is merely

a thought’s reflection

The wise man endeavors

to keep this in mind

for when we don’t expect it

somebody is watching

and thought is the medium

in which character is defined

We entertain

either angels or demons

in thought’s mystic cell

where only God can see

But sooner or later

as thought becomes action

Truth is revealed

In clarity

© Janet Martin

Mary's comment bears repeating!

...So true, Janet. We probably teach many in our lives when we don't even realize we are teaching! And many who are our teachers don't realize their role for us either. And then, of course, there is the Great Teacher who teaches the greatest lessons of all.

Settlements~

 Image Source; Clark Little

We settled back against the night

Drinking in the luxury

Poured from the flask of half-moon light

The wine of blue tranquility

We did not speak but understood

Instinctively the others thought

Oh, I would hold you if I could

But I am here and you are not

J~

Life's Sweetest Luxury

 

I have known life's sweetest luxury

Child's hand in mine

Asking for nothing more

I have known life's greatest entrustment

Child's hand in mine

Asking for nothing more

Janet

Of Gray or Golden

We cannot beg the little day

To add another hour

We cannot plead the bloom to stay

When it has ceased to flower

We cannot urge back to the stem
The petal that has fallen
Or taste youth's fair springtime again
To dodge the grip of autumn

We cannot un-speak uttered things

When it has once been spoken

Nor undo yester’s offerings

Of moments bent and broken

We cannot return to the past

To touch the gray or golden

But we can give our utter-best

To moments we are holding

© Janet Martin

Timeless Madrigal

No instrument, minstrel or crooner

Can imitate, or compete

The low, melancholy languor

Of this melody, tender-sweet

Into deep-hushed charcoal hollow

Over moon-gilded plateau

It rises and falls at my window

Now restless, now moody, now slow

No violin quickens the pulses

Like its haunting madrigal

A ballad of longing and losses

Wanders earth’s somnolent hall

It curves quickened notes in an ocean

Clutching love’s bitter-sweet thought

A solo of dissonant emotion

Soothing, yet searing the heart

There is no other song equal

In lyric, in measure or rhyme

No composition to rival

This hymn since dawning of time

Over the graceful willow

And earth's silver-blue diadem

Over the tear on my pillow

Croons the wind-song of one a.m.

J~

The Best Medicine...

Laughter…the best medicine

Hubby just called…

Here it is going to feel like 34 degrees Celsius today,

Jim is in Sask. He woke up with snow on the hood!

Apparently, according to the farmer he loaded at…

The way to happiness is…

You want just enough money to get by and lots of laughter.

He told Jim he knows of a farmer last year who collected flood and drought insurance…

This farmer is 5’3” and said he is still waiting for his growth spurt.

Their daughter is not growing very fast so the Dr. ordered them to see a specialist to discuss hormone therapy. When they arrived at the Specialist he took one look at the parents and said, ‘he doesn’t know what DR, they are seeing or what he is telling them but you can’t make rats out of mice!’

Janet

Over Yonder

Over yonder the little stream

Where once I used to play

Or sit upon its banks to dream

Like years, has seeped away

The frolic of the water-fall

Is but a sluggish drool

Where cattails drink its umber gall

And reeds the remnant pool

Over yonder the willow tree

That leaned, like daring child

Across the stream, is history

It’s grave, overgrown and wild

And over yonder the little girl

That wandered on its shore

Watches her own wee daughter twirl

Across the dreamer’s floor

Over yonder the little stream

Where swallows dive and dip

Revives the echo of a dream

In moments as they slip

Silent; the ebb of subtle tide

Flowing toward a sea

Where Time relinquishes its stride

In vast eternity

© Janet Martin 

...a few weeks ago I took the little guys to the creek where I loved to wander and play as a child. It was bitter-sweet, this vaguely familiar yet strangely foreign place. I recall my grandfather commenting as we took him to a place he used to work at that 'it just isn't like it used to be'...a four-lane highway ran through the 'place he was looking for'. I remember feeling sorry for him and wondering what that would feel like ...slowly I am beginning to understand.

When we were kids the cattle still roamed through streams eating all the over-growth on the banks etc... that is now illegal because they are concerned about the quality of our drinking water...e coli, and other bacteria.. Many creeks are now over grown with brush.

Wealthy...

Is any wealth richer or grander than this?

The soft breath of dawn on night’s dark abyss

The wind as it chases through steeples of grass

Or dances on ball-rooms of sea-tempered glass

Wild-apple jewels on scraggy-cut limb

The timbre of reverence in twilight’s soft hymn

As far on the skyline each tree is a tower

Etched in precision like a delicate flower

The bird in the bower, the pale, new-moon wraith

The innocent wonder of a child’s perfect faith

The bumblebee hovering o’er delicate bloom

Drunken with nectar from spring’s heady plume

The patchwork of shadows, warm memories to hold

The sway of the willow-tree feathered in gold

The bronze-burnished blush in the waning of day

The impromptu hush as the wind drops away

Then let miser’s covet the fruit of the purse

Money and the love of it is but a curse

Genuine riches leap from vaults at hand

Sapphire-blue heavens over silver-white sand

Ruby-red rose and emerald green hill

The echo of love when the hour is still

For true wealth is found in a moment’s essence

Its treasure is free to both pauper and prince

© Janet Martin

What's for Dinner?

They don’t really care

What clothes you wear

…if your girth is thicker or thinner

As they come through the door

At a quarter to four

They just want to know…

…what’s for dinner?

They don’t judge your skill

As a seasoned cook will

To them you’re a proven winner

As they sniff for a clue

Is it barbeque?

Asking, hey mom,

…what’s for dinner?

God-given delight

A healthy child’s appetite

I can think of nothing finer

As I contemplate dishes

To satisfy wishes

When they ask me, oh mom

…what’s for dinner?

© Janet Martin

(tonight it's chicken breasts, baked potatoes, green bean casserole, and apple crisp) yes, the apples are still from those I cut up and froze in November's 'Ode to the Apple' 

Yes moms, we know...they're ALWAYS hungry..! but imagine if they weren't...
so happy cooking, happy gardening, etc.

Thursday Thoughts~

 He walks on water...the Keeper of the storm

Even the wind and the waves obey Him

...how much more then, ought we?

It is only when we come to the end of ourselves

That God can begin…

For all the good it does not do

Sometimes she wonders

What might have been?

Salty tears

A great heart-cleanser

To love is not the same
as being 'in love'
 

Though duty may shorten its leash

It cannot keep the sun from smiling

Or nature from spilling its art

Through my window; nor can it quell

In the busyness of toil

The music of love in my heart

Come sunlight or shadow

Come high tide or low

God IS; ever changeless

Wherever we go

The Rock of Ages is Ageless

I cannot see the way ahead

Its portend or its girth

So I will put my faith instead

In God of Heaven and earth

He leads me

..Sometimes I am too stubborn to follow

He guides me

…sometimes I am too blinded by self to see

He loves me

…sometimes I forget just how much

Until I remember Calvary

Some friends flutter by

Like a butterfly

…and some are a fly in life’s butter

Some stick, not like honey in your hair

But closer than a brother

 Janet~

Thoughts Gleaned from a Dandelion Field

…on prayer

There is power in numbers

And power in prayer

Together they form

A gossamer stair

With angels descending

In legions sublime

More countless in number

Than seeds on the wind

…on attitude

Self-pity blights the single bloom

Compassion enriches eons

Its after-effects filling earth’s living-room

Like ocean’s of dandelions

…on planting

The bud, the bloom, and back to seed

So is this life in thought and deed

…on harvest

These are not solitary blooms, the deeds we do

Or moments to be taken for granted

But gifts to be cherished for some day we will view

The field that once we planted

They drift upon the winds that play

...the kind words you spoke

yesterday...

If we could count each dandelion seed

I wonder how many there'd be

No matter the number it would be nothing more

Than a wink in eternity...

© Janet Martin

For this reason we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away from it. Hebrews 2:1

Softly Touching Our Hands

Gold fingers reach from a cloak gently softening

Over serene valley, blue-brimming with mist

Into the meadow, where its humble offering

Is threaded with diamonds of dew-silver kiss

The brook winds its sash across spring's emerald garment

Through pastoral wood-lot and out to the sea

Forgotten ponds burst with songs of the season

Turquoise-jade patches on earth’s rugged knee

Gentle breeze rouses the bird from its slumber

Nature’s choristers fill somnolent space

As over the earth spreads a heavenly wonder

Of unmarred perfection; a new day of grace

Yester's red sun, as it slipped from our visage

Tugged with it the day, into history’s embrace

Now it rises again; yet is not encumbered

With past’s soiled attempts; but a new day of grace

And we turn to the Master-piece dazzling the acre

Where grace has allowed us a dot on time’s sands

Thankfulness rushes through our hearts like pure water

As a new day of mercy softly touches our hands

© Janet Martin

It is not difficult to see His beauty on a morning like this…

This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Ps. 118:24

Ah, Redemption

Ah, redemption

The athlete cries

As his feet cross over

The finish-line

Ah, redemption

The student cheers

As he waves his diploma

With joyous tears

Ah, redemption

The believer weeps

As he casts his crowns

At Jesus feet

© Janet Martin

"Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things.
Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an IMPERISHABLE CROWN. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified." (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

Of Most Loved Moments

…to languish in the magnificence of dust

where miracles leap from sources untouched

…to savor long the invisible bliss

of haunts revisited in thought’s tender kiss

…to bear the searing ecstasy and grief of love

because we can never have too much, or even enough

…to touch you, hold you, caress you because I cannot wait

and tomorrow holds no guarantees but one; it could be too late

J~

Awesome Acknowledgement

Oh God, who can paint on an infinite nothing?

Has ever a man brushed his thought on the air?

Who on this earth can arrange the vast heavens?

Or shift nebulosity with naught but a stare?

Who can design, from the seed its fulfillment?

Man can do nothing but what you allot

The fruit of the field, of forest and garden

Blooms by the measure of Creator’s thought

Who teaches the bud of flower to open?

Or tells the tree its season to leaf?

Has ever a man plucked the rain from the heavens?

Or ordered the wind’s velocity to cease?

How fearful the greatness of our dependence

But for a God who loves us so much

That not one pebble escapes His vigilance

Hope and forgiveness exudes every touch

…and He who arranges the colors of heaven

Or stuns man’s babble to quieted awe

Seeks ultimately, intimately, the best for His children

For in Heaven and earth there is none like God

© Janet Martin

No one is like you, O LORD; you are great, and your name is mighty in power. Jer. 10:6

We gathered there...some on the bluff, others down on the beach
each with our own version of  'watching the sun set...'

Of Blind Pursuit...

How vain the blind pursuit of man

How feeble is its cheer

How pithy the desires that span

This transient hemisphere

Of dust and lust, of sin and sod

If our trust is not in God

A little joy, a little grief

A little youthful glance

Each season of existence brief

We laugh, we weep and dance

But oh, what futile scope we plod

If our hope is not in God

Disappointment and delight

A gasp upon the air

A gathering of day and night

Of dreaming and despair

But oh, what purpose fills our thought

If we have put our faith in God

© Janet Martin

 He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet

 no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end;

I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.

Eccles. 3:11-12 

I Know...

I do not know…

before the sun

cajoles the western sky

what will befall,

but this I know

the Lord keeps you and I

I do not know 

what waits beyond

the dark and distant hill

but this I know

before me goes

a Father's perfect will

and this I know

the unknown waits

and I, a shell of dust

can simply place

my hand in His

and in His wisdom trust

© Janet Martin

Wordless Truths

 

You moved me with your pretty speech

It left me somewhat stirred

For there is much allurement

In the sentiment of word

But I am getting older

And the truth; I’m learning well

There is much more told in action

That word can never tell

© Janet Martin

Torrents from Above...

We offer you our mangled blooms

Of bent and broken stem

The remnant of vague promises

So common unto men

We lift, in blushing guilt and shame

Our stammered salutation

As we seek hope within the Name

Of mercy and compassion

We repeat our confessions

At the alter of His grace

Unworthy of the miracle

That flows to human race

For in return He gives to us

In torrents from above

For our debt His pardon

His forgiveness and His love

© Janet Martin

Of Mystery and Mornings...

The quiet leans in closely

As the early light expands

And navy yields to the caress

Of morning’s gentle hands

Angels in silken garments

Brush the line twixt dark and day

With effervescent whispers

They ease deeper shades away

Mystery treads the stillness

Of the unknown like a bloom

Starting to press the barriers

Of its darkened waiting room

We step onto the shoreline

Of a mighty river’s flow

As He who holds this day’s design

And gives the sun its glow…

…assures us in the solitude

Of grace that will not flea

And He knows every petal

That drifts into Time’s vast sea

The quiet leans in closely

As this hushed and sacred hour

Nudges from the bud unfolding

A new and perfect flower

© Janet Martin

Wait on the Lord and keep His way

And He shall exalt thee to inherit the land.

When the wicked are cut off thou shalt see it. Ps. 37:34