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

Summer...

 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

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.

Eccles.1:9

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

For God is good and He is kind

And He is love; He never fails

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

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