Thursday, August 31, 2017

Poetry For Eyes

Life leaves little allowance these end-of-August days
 for longing's Muse to pen her dues....
of beautiful bittersweet!
 But Her whole gallery is free for Beholding...

Nature’s color-palette nurtures hungry eyes
Like a soulful ballad set against blue skies
Mountain-ash spills garnet, ditch spills goldenrod
Hillside spills a garden wild with lily-laud

Tug of heart and soul, oh, morning spills new day
Heaping girth of earth so, with beauty’s buffet
God’s artwork is awesome, orchards swathed in mist
Cradle in a blossom, harvest’s catalyst

Free four-season canvas hung north-south-east-west
Gallery of gladness thrills the mortal breast
Stunning sweeps of summer, flaming fronds of fall
Whitewashed worlds of winter, sweet spring’s budding shawl

Tracery of treetops etched on eventide
Pretty petal pit-stops halt Hurry mid-stride
Periwinkle twinkles, diamond-dazzled dawn
Peach-pink-purple pimpernel, leaf embellished lawn

Perpetual wonder, look ah, look again
Subliminal splendor mantles moor and main
Gentle is its granting, gentle its demise
Nature’s Author painting poetry for eyes

© Janet Martin

Wednesday, August 30, 2017


 It's all things end-of-summer...
thinking of and praying for those in Houston who would love the luxury of an ordinary day!

It drains the cup of lilies dry
A sentimental roar
That strums the leaf with lullaby
Until it is no more

It plays upon our gaze a song
Of green-gold-russet days
Until it fades into so-long
An echo-laden haze

Pageantry of plant, till and reap
Of dawn to dusk adieu
Of winnowing the wooded steep
Until the sky spills through

It aches in wakes of settled dust
It tousles tasseled things
It makes us more aware of Must
And its anointed wings

It runs its course of cricket tune
It stuns its fields with frost
And suns the honeyed afternoon
With more than moments lost

It fills the fist with gifted mist
It gleams from fruited jars
And falls to faces softly kissed
With farewell’s silver stars

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Teasure Hunt!

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matt 6:21

Of rich or poor or young or old
We procure treasure in our hold
While whiling blips of gray and gold
Unfold an awesome vault
Where what we hear and what we see
Of lust-love prone propensity
Reveals the heart of you and me
By whom our finds exalt

Therefore with solemn aptitude
And holy, humble gratitude
We ought to measure attitude
By treasure that we hoard
For as these darling days decree
These farthing ways of you and me
Are heaping up love’s entity
To lay before the Lord

© Janet Martin

This summer our speakers at WBC have been teaching a series entitled
Treasures from the Heart

Check out worth-your-while challenge-your-love-style messages here.

A Ridge of Blue-veiled Hills Appears...

 What has been will be again, 
what has been done will be done again; 
there is nothing new under the sun.

A ridge of blue-veiled hills appears
Earth dons half-hues of blushing gray
As heaven dims far star-swept spheres
And fills the sill of night with Day
Morn moves us toward hope and trust
The dust that settled ‘neath our feet
Will soon be stirred where wanderlust
And moil of motley toil compete

Ah, everyone is caught between
What was and will be with what is
The Imminence of what has been
Begins each end with morning’s kiss
Where what was old is new again
And what is new will soon be old
As we are riled with the amen
Of gifted green and gathered gold

Soft amethyst of mist-kissed main
And benefits beyond our boast
Returns us to life’s Must again
Entrusted with Time’s uttermost
The Hand that feathers harvest-fields
And untethers Time’s virgin cast
Weathers with us, what each day yields
Yet does not bind us to the Past

We, thought-blighted and oft sight-blind
Misunderstand Hands scarred with nails
His mercy smites night’s murky spheres
To light the way for new day’s charge
A ridge of blue-veiled hills appears
Earth dons the hues of love at large

© Janet Martin

Monday, August 28, 2017

Almost Like a Little Rhapsody...

Like ripples on rivers
Like sun-sparkle’s glance
Like mist-mantle’s shiver
Like rain-drop tap-dance

Like bloom that wakes wonder
Then withers to naught
Like one boom of thunder
Like a fleeting thought

Like summer soon over
Like folding of sheaf
Like kiss of a Lover
Like bliss of green leaf

Like shadows or vespers
Snuffed from wooded hill
Like laughter or whispers
That startle, then still

Like dew-dazzled roses
Or snowflakes on lips
Like a door that closes
On vaporous blips

Ah life, little rhapsody
Or quick cajole
But for the body
That carries The Soul

© Janet Martin