Friday, September 14, 2018

On This Note...

On this note, due to a major shake-up to what has been a somewhat regular routine 
for quite some time, I will be away for a while
but hope to be back after a vacation and then adapting to a new
childcare routine starting at 7:00 a.m.
Hope to see you sometime in October!

On a note of orchards groaning with the glut of grace and toil
Where the mantle of new morning gleams like frosting over spoil
Where Hope to spring’s furrow planted is poured out in harvest-hymns
On a note twixt Past and Promise, where Today spreads fledgling wings

On a note of Change pursuing what is pressed against our skin
Where the Hour keeps undoing and refilling nests within
And the Things we thought quite common startle us with Letting Go
On a note where skylines open to what Time waits to bestow

On a note of flower-tatters scattered where sweet summer wanes
On a coat of earthy matters fixed to heaven’s holy trains
On a road where twist and turn can take us by sacred surprise
On a note where Having Held melds hello’s handshake to good-byes

…on a note of knowing little of what waits to spill its store
Where each day is like a launching pad hinged to for-nevermore
Frilled with gray and gold appointment like footprints splashed-dashed on sand
Where each note of leaping forward leads to farewell’s upper hand

…on a note of raw rebellion tamed by traits of Father Time
Where the green of leaf turns golden like medallions on a vine
And the sheen of dreams turns dusky where the rise and set of sun
Tunes the notes of moment-music into soulful said-and-done

On a note of wish and wonder so profound it steals our breath
Where the heart can skip a beat so full of life so close to death
...where the rhythms we relinquish have prepared us unaware
For the notes that wait to wash across the stars and bars of prayer

…on a note of apprehension and fresh thoroughfares of trust
Where the Unknown is an ocean surging through faith’s speck of dust
Where we cannot nurse the notions that turn fear into a noose
But proceed in part with caution and in part with heart foot-loose

On a note of simple Being with a Mary-like Reply
Of ‘Lord, Be it unto us as you have said’,  we try to fly
And be ever humbly thankful for the chance to dance and sing
On a note, often off-key but always meant to worship Him

© Janet Martin

 "I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered.
 "May your word to me be fulfilled."
Luke 1:38

Wednesday, September 12, 2018

September Dosey Doe

  (do you sense a flutist and fiddler in the fringes;-)?

 September Dawn...

Now earlier dusk dons its yawns of shadow promenade
Above the sparser, hard-to-find-‘em cricket serenade

Now mellower the meadow still insists on our stares
Where yellower the golden rod ignites its feather-flares

Now sentimental-er we stir the dust on garden floors
Where summer’s rush of hours blurs on rainbow-shimmered shores

Now mistier the morning breaks, now dewier her dress
Where holier love’s hunger wakes a humbler happiness

Now gossamer of web-design no mortal can achieve
Showcases intricacies that eight-legged artists weave

Now moodier the summer-sleepy zephyr tousles trees
And tickles beaming flowers into dreamy memories

Now nature’s seamstress starts to stretch the threads of milk-weed pods
And everything she touches turns to gold, russet and bronze

Now corn-fields tease our nostrils, bees are busiest of all
Wild grasses wave their tassels like banners heralding fall

Now hints of autumn's advent scatter leaf-shaped souvenirs
And tints of twilight-tea contentment sweetens farewell’s tears  

Now more than ever we are bent on ‘bringing in the sheaves’
Where more than ever we are meant to treasure days like these

Where flowers spill their final frills in a fine fashion-show
Where sweet September senses calls for fall’s first dosey-doe

© Janet Martin

September Dusk...

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Do We Remember?

 Love must be sincere. 
Detest what is evil; cling to what is good.
 Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. 
Outdo yourselves in honoring one another. 

9/ you remember where you were?
I was feeding Victoria who was 1/2 a year old 
when the images started to appear, interrupting every programme on TV! 
First I thought it was a glitch and changed channels and soon realized 
Oh NO! This is for real!

We remember, not to inspire hate, but love...

Do we remember to love one another
Do we remember to pray?
Do we remember to thank Mercy's Author
Of Time, for another day?

Do we remember that grace has no borders
Creatures of need, one and all
Do we remember our Ultimate order
That love is mankind's Greatest Call

Do we remember to not take for granted
What may be tomorrow's loss
Do we remember blood-tears that were planted
Years ago, at the foot of a Cross?

Do we remember fear, tasting like cotton
...feeling that kinship of pain
Do we remember or have we forgotten
And returned to our old ways again?

Janet Martin~

Yes, we remember today!
Will we still remember tomorrow
and the day after...?!

Tribute to the fallen...Ships of Heaven Blackhawk

Cause For Applause...

We were challenged this past Sunday
to let our worship to God be a wonder-full springboard for the day!

 The earth is the LORD’s, and the fullness thereof,
the world and all who dwell therein.

 Psalm 24:1

The birth of day spills heaven’s songs
To throngs of need-greed-grit
Where earth and all therein belongs
To He who ordained it

His workmanship is beautiful
Where nothing is more pitiful
Than hearts bereft of praise

For nature has not ceased its hymns
Nor let its wonder die
Since dawn of Time its worship brims
To God from sod-sea-sky

The layout of life’s solemn charge
Should author shades of shame
If we, aboard earth’s mercy-barge
Forget to praise His name

The Name that saves, comforts and heals
The Name above all names
The only Name whose love reveals
The devil’s awful aims

…and ushers hope to hopeless hearts
Where gloom would fill this shell  
Save for His blood that quenches darts
Drenched with the doom of hell

Then take a lesson from the leaves
From birds or blooms that nod
From seas that strum sand-harps or sheaves
Bent with the proof of God

This dot of blue is not some fluke
Tossed to a starry maze
But cups Love’s favor and rebuke
To author songs of praise

© Janet Martin

The Worship of Nature

By John Greenleaf Whittier
The harp at Nature’s advent strung
      Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
      Has never died away.

And prayer is made, and praise is given,
      By all things near and far;
The ocean looketh up to heaven,
      And mirrors every star.

Its waves are kneeling on the strand,
      As kneels the human knee,
Their white locks bowing to the sand,
      The priesthood of the sea!

They pour their glittering treasures forth,
      Their gifts of pearl they bring,
And all the listening hills of earth
      Take up the song they sing.

The green earth sends its incense up
      From many a mountain shrine;
From folded leaf and dewy cup
      She pours her sacred wine.

The mists above the morning rills
      Rise white as wings of prayer;
The altar-curtains of the hills
      Are sunset’s purple air.

The winds with hymns of praise are loud,
      Or low with sobs of pain,—
The thunder-organ of the cloud,
      The dropping tears of rain.

With drooping head and branches crossed
      The twilight forest grieves,
Or speaks with tongues of Pentecost
      From all its sunlit leaves.

The blue sky is the temple’s arch,
      Its transept earth and air,
The music of its starry march
      The chorus of a prayer.

So Nature keeps the reverent frame
      With which her years began,
And all her signs and voices shame
      The prayerless heart of man.

Monday, September 10, 2018

Wick of Day...

The wick of day is kindled with Mercy’s majestic flare
Where quick of tick and tock ignites and dims the scrim of life
As twist and turn of wish and earn soon fades into thin air
Or so it seems; a source-less stream of moments running rife

Time’s give and take soon births an ache within this skin of Soul
Where trust becomes a must to thwart the fear of The Unknown
Man’s dust facade designed by God cradles a holy toll
Inhale, exhale dissolves this fragile veil of blood and bone

The Hand that stirs the land with light and strews the night with stars
Severs the silver cord and breaks the golden bowl of breath
The Lord of earth and Heaven set His seal beneath flesh-bars
In Living Soul; revealed in whole at a Door known as Death

The Destinies that Doubt defies and Unbelief denies
Lends Purpose to Believers who hold Faith’s salvation fast
Where wick of Day is kindled with far more than ‘how Time flies’
And quick of tick and tock ignites far more than shadows cast

© Janet Martin

 "Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, 
or the pitcher be broken at the fountain,
 or the wheel broken at the cistern. 
 Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: 
and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it." 
Ecclesiastes 12:6