Thursday, May 31, 2012

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
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

He who hath no shadows
Hath no light


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


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!


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 is, isn't it?

© Janet Martin

Horizons...the proof of faith.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

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

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 47th 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:)

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

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

© 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

Monday, May 28, 2012

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

Scarlet-echoed Breath

Image Source:

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

Saturday, May 26, 2012

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

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.


 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


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


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

Friday, May 25, 2012

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.


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!’


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.

Thursday, May 24, 2012


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 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


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

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

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

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


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 

Sunday, May 20, 2012

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

Saturday, May 19, 2012

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