Sunday, September 30, 2012

...over Love

It is nothing to part
With the flesh-desire
Of things
Clutched in our grasp
It is everything when the heart
Is on holy-fire
And sings
A love song fingers cannot clasp
Everything is nothing
And never enough
If we choose life’s pilferage
Over Love

© Janet Martin


The weight of life’s care would over-power; cripple
Demonic despair would devour our breath
Worry and wondering would banish the sparkle
Of laughter from summer; and light from the earth
But we will conquer, our will undeterred
For we do not place our hope in the temporal
Our hope is in Jesus Christ the Lord

His goodness and mercy are not circumstantial
We cannot earn His forgiveness and grace
As He humbled Himself and died in our place
Love lays the idol of self on the altar
Not for applause or for man’s vain reward
But through love’s sacrifice vile demons falter
If our hope is in Jesus Christ the Lord

Life is not merely a foot-shuffling motion
Of toiling and triumph, of gain or of loss
It is a moment by moment devotion
Poured in rejoicing at the foot of the cross
It does not vanquish one jot of His word
We hope, with promise and expectation
For our hope is in Jesus Christ the Lord

Though evil may persecute, ravage and slaughter
It cannot comprehend the might
Or the hope which carries His sons and daughters
Into His marvelous kingdom of Light
To live is Christ, but to die is heaven
Where faith becomes sight and sight, hope’s reward
The weight of life’s care is but for a season
As our hope remains in Jesus Christ the Lord

© Janet Martin

Life's Tender-sweet~

You lie in slumber
In blissful oblivion
Quite unaware
Of my tender-sweet thought
But I want to tell
In spite of the ocean
Of moments between us
‘I love you
A lot’

Time is a teacher
Of life’s love-wrought lessons
Sometimes I would
Slip away from it all
Just to return
For one beautiful hour
Back to the day
Before summer
Was fall

We cannot alter
One mite of a moment
Here in the deep purple
Quiet I know
Love is a beautiful
Tender-sweet torment
Of holding close
Letting go


Saturday, September 29, 2012

Welcome Home (Memoir Project #3)

It is not the same now
The arms that held her are gone
But oh, in my mind is an echo defined
That somehow lives on and on
Cradled by two weeping willows
I thrived in their sighing embrace
Now the ghost-willow trees frame fond memories
Of my dear, unforgotten home-place

I cherish the humble brick dwelling
Of panel and paint decor
But the sweet echo of nine siblings I love
Drench the walls and the floor
The old wood-stove in the kitchen
Served as cook-stove, laundry and hair dryer
In the winter we woke to the smell of smoke
As mom rekindled the fire…

…and set the pot of oatmeal a-boiling
Ready for ‘farmer's’ breakfast at eight
Midst the chatter of those nine siblings I love
As we would argue, discuss or debate
Until Farmer’s firm, unchallenged ‘QUIET!’
Dropped the up-roar to a hush
And all that was heard was the slurp and stir
Of ten respectful children eating ‘mush’

I learned as a young teenager
Which steps to skip at late-night, cause they squeaked
But no matter how I would tiptoe or prowl
Somewhere an errant board creaked
…and casually at breakfast
The cereal box became a shield
Until Farmer cleared his throat, (we always looked when he spoke)
And the culprit was revealed

The furniture was scarred and battered
The rooms lived in to the max
But home was a place of learning and grace
Where we worked hard and where we could relax
Often in the evening it was quiet
As we set aside our work and our play
To find our own nook and curl up with a book
The highlight at the end of a day

© Janet Martin 

Look What I Did! (memoir prompt #2)

‘Better to be silent than appear proud
and speak of accomplishments out loud’

How old are we when self-consciousness zips
joyous celebration behind our lips?

…and now at forty-six I must share, and tell
of something that I think I have done quite well

Old habits die hard; I’ve acquired a demeanor
that readily demotes my best attempts as mediocre

Long ago my mother taught me each small deed done well
builds a firm foundation on which we can excel…

so this is my humble and daily quest;
to embrace every moment and give it my best

Through this endeavor there are a few things I’ve done
that are entirely out of my comfort zone

Girded by encouragement, and kind assistance too
I started a blog, and thus I met you

So if there is one thing I am ‘proud’ of today
It’s you; the wonderful friends on blog high-way

© Janet Martin

Okay, I'm going to attempt to return to the prompts which began a few months ago at Poetic Bloomings. # 2 prompt Look What I Did!


The wind moans blue beneath my door
It tugs the leaf from tree to grass
It draws the sea across the shore
And strains against rain-pelted glass
Thus, I can never really tell
Was it a tear or rain that fell?

Thought moans, a tempest in my mind
It clenches sorrows in my heart
Then surges, like the autumn wind
Across the twilight’s dim rampart
Thus, I can never really tell
Was it a tear or dusk that fell?

The quiet moans a lullaby
It trembles in leafy rain-song
A tune of moments slipping by
Of whispered hours here, then gone
Thus I can never really tell,
Was it a tear, or time that fell?

© Janet Martin

Tekel (means weighed)

Upon a mystic scale we place
The thread of moments spun
In temporal treasure we embrace
Against eternal One

The soil and spoil of want and have
Weighs heavy in one pan
Are we a servant, are we slave? 
Do we serve God or man?

The balance tips; thought yields its fruit
The scale reveals our thirst
On one half God; the other, loot
One blessed, the other cursed

Time fills one side; we cannot see
Its awesome counter-part
Where scores of vast eternity
Are settled in the heart

Upon a mystic scale we place
Love’s passion and its pride
I would be wanting, but for grace
And for a Lamb who died

© Janet Martin

Friday, September 28, 2012

Arabesque Acquiescence (an edited- re-post)

Softly you laugh, and vex me with your kiss
crumbling my will to ignore your bold fire
as I relent to cinnabar desire
roused by the hints of autumn-tinted bliss
glinting upon the zephyr’s ruddiness
You strut across my firmly planted ire
and never pause to even once inquire
if I should seek a lover such as this
You overthrow my sanguine-steeped intent
to disregard your winning works of art
Why is it now, that I cannot resent
the lavishness your fingertips impart
as you prey on love's languishing lament
and thus seduce my true-blue summer heart


Methinks the earth reserves its utter-best
to soothe the summer-heart’s acquiescent sigh
for bluer  is autumn’s pure azure dye
than summer’s satisfying sapphire crest
imbuing expectation’s blind request
The embellishing of cloud-tumbled sky
draws the stoic gaze of hope's devoted eye
rendering her quite speechless and impressed
as gently she relinquishes her will
advancing slowly ‘cross a rustling floor
caressed with weightless teardrops as they spill
from walnut, maple, birch; soundless they pour
Arabesque comfort bleeds from autumn’s chill
painting its parting on earth’s auburn shore


No longer do I seek to quell its glance
as drooping lashes spark the two-toned breeze
igniting laughter of the scarlet trees
and suddenly this summer-heart must dance;
kiss sorrow from the lips of circumstance
Heaven designs rare moments such as these
of musty grapes and lumb’ring honey-bees
Mesmerizing grief within its trance
Fall sonnets trickle from the russet vine
in tendrils of a reminiscent croon
as love and loss and longing intertwine,
the scent of dusk scatters the afternoon
How full the umber draught of autumn’s wine
Earth’s pining slumbers ‘neath the harvest moon

© Janet Martin

Summer-heart Resolve

I will not pine for faded flowers
Or for the wine of jaded hours
Lest I should let a moment drip
Unnoticed, from my fingertip
Missing what could have been because
I looked too long at what once was

© Janet Martin

Morning Madrigal

Its spills from heaven-portals
In merciful embrace
Of Tenderness immortal
Another day of grace

Into night’s charcoal blackness
He whispers, ‘let it be’
His Light pierces the darkness
And bathes the morning lea

Beneath His utter Knowing
Earth’s toil and turmoil bleed
Into scarred Hands bestowing
Redemption for sin’s seed

His visage is supernal
He sees each secret place
And yet, imparts a vernal
Unblemished day of grace

A sash of astral grandeur
Gilds the stark, raven limb
As shades of heaven-splendor
Dissolves night’s onyx scrim

Its spills from heaven-portals
In merciful embrace
Of Tenderness immortal
Another day of grace

© Janet Martin

Thursday, September 27, 2012

The Secret to Every-day Beautiful

They plummet, like a bird shot in flight
They fall, shattering soundlessly
Like a star, in the dead of night
Or a bloom nipped prematurely
Perhaps they simply drift away
Like cloud-ships above
The dreamer with a dream,
But no love

Look through your window
What do you see?
Is it a landscape gleaming
With opportunity,
Or a day beautiful with promise
In spite of the weather?
Do you see hope on the horizon
Or an iron tether?

The eyes through which we behold the world
Shape the hour, then the day, then a life
It is attitude, not circumstance
That paints skies blue or gray, dark or light
Hope does not stream like the sun or rain
In portions from above
And every day is beautiful
When beheld with eyes of love

© Janet Martin

There are days when beauty falls, heavy and flat
because the eye simply sees through where the heart is at...

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Today I Just Want to Love You #2

Today I just want to love you
To concentrate on the color gray-blue
Sparkling with gold flecks; your eyes
Crinkling and twinkling with humor, sweet child
I just want to drown in the music of your laughter
Trickling and lilting up to heaven’s rafter

Today I just want to love you, that’s all
Without duty’s persistent bugle call
Or the pathetic, perpetual distraction
Of self-focused desire and ambition
I just want to listen and really hear
What you are saying and why, my dear

Today’s priority might be to pause and stare
As the wind teases and tousles your hair
Or thrill to the childish curve of your lip
As you chatter; and what of those moments that slip
From the face of the clock? They are surely the heart-beat
Of living and gathering love’s bittersweet

Today I just want to love you the best I can
Tomorrow, if God will’s a boy becomes a man
And the quiet will echo of moments and hours
In childhood’s wink; go now, smell the flowers
Touch, taste, cherish; soon a lifetime is through
Oh sweet child, today I just want to love you

© Janet Martin; aka mom

Regardless of my fanciful wishes, all the love in the world doesn’t fill hungry tummies, so I better skedaddle before the school-bus comes!

I found this page below, in a book I was reading yesterday so I placed it in a holder on my kitchen-counter because life has a way of...distracting.

Today I Just Want to Love You

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempts a  Zymurgy

Zymurgy defined, is the area of applied science related to fermentation. It deals with the biochemical processes involved in fermentation, through yeast. Unless you are a home brew aficionado, you’re probably thinking… What does this have to do with the price of Haiku in Japan?
But for the purpose of the Zymurgy form, we will deal with this fact… ZYMURGY is the very last word in the dictionary. So we will concern ourselves with the “Last Word” of each first and last line of every stanza.
The last word of your title becomes the first word of the first line of your poem.
The last word of  the first line will dictate the number of lines in that stanza. Use that word as an Acrostic in that stanza, with the last word of the last line becoming the first word of your next stanza, stringing your thoughts together.

You cannot fathom the ocean
Or the waves of emotion that surge
Converge, in startling sheerness
Equal elements of strength and weakness
Align, when this heart of mine is
Next to you, next to you

You kindle a daring desire
Darling, how can I define
Embers that leap into fire
Stirred simply by your faint half-smile
I cannot fathom my blessings
Rich beyond reason or rue
Everything is nothing without you, without you

You leave me blissfully breathless
Beautiful agony
Rushing, receding, relentless
Elusive mystery
Assuring me of life’s fullest purpose
Today I just want to clasp,
Have and hold you; no excuses
Life is a precious gasp
Each day a grace-gift from heaven
Some things simply cannot wait
So just let me love you darling, tomorrow may be too late, too late

Janet Martin

Last night a mother/wife in our school community is suddenly and shockingly, a widow.
It wakens in me a renewed awareness of life's fragile thread and Time's precious now and its uncertain end.

Father of Compassion

Sometimes we think we cannot bear
The sorrows of this life
But oh my Jesus, You are there
Through all its tears and strife
Since Eden’s grief and Adam’s woe
We bear life’s cursed travail
But oh my Jesus, this we know
Your mercy will not fail

Father of comfort, hear our plea
For we are weak and poor
Though howling fiends of misery
Ravage earth’s stricken shore
You are greater; demons tremble
At the thought of You
And, though we falter, Lord or stumble
You will help us through

We suffer, but with Sympathy
For no grief have we borne
Beyond the groans of Calvary 
Where You endured our scorn
Thus, when life’s sorrow fills our cup
And anguish sears the land
You plead with us to come; look up
And hold Your nail-scarred Hand

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Perspective Through the Eyes of Love

Because I Love You   Yiruma

Because I love you
The rains laugh
Touching me softly
With the beauty of belonging

Because I love you
Duty is not mundane
And moments are miracles
Leading to you

Because I love you
Every day is a fresh
And tender tribute
Of  wonder

Because I love you
I can bear
Life's relinquishment
And its rendering

Because I love you
My heart will never be empty
And my joy will ever
Be full

Because I love you


We Are Much the Same

In all of our differences
By culture and creed
We are much the same
Creatures in great need
Of Jesus

In all of our differences
There is but one Name
By which men are saved
We are much the same

© Janet Martin

Monday, September 24, 2012

Heart or Head?

Some days my heart has old ragged edges
Some days its staunch and dull as cold stone
Still, on other days it’s a beckoning blossom
With fringes unfurling in love’s golden sun
Heart, you’re a restless and way-faring drifter
I cannot trust or rely on your lead
Heart, you’re a harbor for feelings and notions
Guess in the end I must follow my head

On some days my head will allow me one day-dream
But on most days it rules with a fist
Void of enchantment or humor or daring
Grim as a woman whose never been kissed
Head, you’re a fine one, with rigid denial
Stopping your ears at the songs of romance
Seems I must hail my heart for a moment
And beg it to teach my head to dance

© Janet Martin

Reason to Be Don Williams

Infinite Incomprehension

He made Himself
But clothed in flesh
Supreme I AM
In his image
Became a Lamb

Who can explain
Such humble mercy?
Love unrestrained
Beneath hatred’s blow
Who can explain
Compassion so perfect
As agony wept

Sweet incomprehension
I cannot grasp it
A King leaves His throne
To die on a cross
So we, wretched men
May pierce hatred’s darkness
As He shines through us

How I abhor
My rebellious nature
As I consider
God; putting on
Man’s filthy stature
Majesty serving
The hand with a sword

Immaculate Offering
Seals our redemption
Atonement of sin
To tell of His grace
May I never grow weary
To tell of His love
Where can I begin?

For He made Himself
Of no reputation
Clothing in flesh
Supreme I AM
Nothing desirable
In His image
Love Immortal
Became a Lamb

© Janet Martin

Marriage: It Doesn't Just Happen

To all us married folk I say 'cheers,
May love be so blissfully happy
we forget to count the years'

Does this cute cartoon not say it all? on a more serious note:

It doesn’t just happen
Love’s bearing; its bending
Is an earnest diligence
Of careful tending

It doesn’t just happen
Love’s time-tender glow
Is not something earned lightly
In life’s ebb and flow

It doesn’t just happen
Love’s sure testament
Is a shining example
Of commitment

It doesn’t just happen
By negligent living
Love is an action
Of giving, forgiving

It doesn’t just happen
Love’s tried and true grace
Is a gentle reflection
Of God’s face

It doesn’t just happen
But oh, its sweet worth
Is surely the most priceless
Beauty on earth

© Janet Martin

From my threshold of middle-age marriage I have a sudden fresher and deeper appreciation for these words;

Happy 49th Anniversary, Mom and Dad

Tomorrow is Mom and Dad’s 49th Wedding Anniversary. I am so thankful for their shining example of faithfulness.

May God richly bless you with many more.

The Knowns in our Unknowns

Upon what was or lies ahead
The hours between; life’s stepping-stones
In our journey of unknowns

With gasps of faith and hope we strain
In our journey of unknowns

In our journey of unknowns

The path of hope is narrow, straight
His arms of mercy, bastions; strong
In our journey of unknowns

In our journey to His Known

© Janet Martin

Glynis, love, hugs and prayers.

Simply Moments

Every stunning failure
And each triumphant gasp
Every trembling utterance
In every love we clasp
Every breath of courage
And every tender tear
The cistern filled with laughter
Or the belly filled with fear
The sorrow in our parting
The pleasure in hello
The obligations of sound reason
The reckless joy of letting go
The wine after the harvest
And the toiling and the strife
These are simply moments
But in time they form
A life

© Janet Martin

Sunday, September 23, 2012

On This Evening's Eve

On this evening’s eve
The aural scrim descends
In sable folds; it weaves
The moments, gold
To dim, then deeper blends

Purple sweeping shadows
Like painted turrets sprawl
Across the land; the meadow
A stadium where
We watch night’s curtain fall

It tugs in motionless motion
The beauty and brutality
Of this day’s lot; an ocean
Of pure grandeur
Seals its jot in history

Alpha and Omega draws
The shade; it is dark
And day is done
But only day; His love and grace
Go on
And on
And on
And on…

© Janet Martin

I took my daughter and her friend out to a field a few miles from here to watch the sun set. Victoria said that she is going to name that field Sunset Stadium. I LOVE it!:) And all that great open sky, and all that wild wonder and all that awesome creation is a mere 'whisper of Him'  ...a mere speck of His glory and grace! Hallelujah.

The girls wanted the 'best seat in the House'...