Sunday, June 30, 2019

Greatest Universal Call

Of pauper or rich men
Of steel-muscled builder
Of cook in the kitchen
Or hand at a mill
Of teacher and student
Or preacher and pulpit
Of captain and cruiser
Of surgeon with skill
Of high-dollar business suit
Blue-collar hero
Grease-stained mechanic
Or farmer with field
Of lawyer or convict
Of merchant or patron
Of servant or master
Of mother with child
Of painter or poet
Or winner or loser
Or athlete or invalid
Whether short or tall
Or bashful or boastful
Or hasty or careful
None are exempt
From this life's greatest call
Of bowing before Him
The Lord of Creation
This Greatest Work
Should be rendered with care
For nothing is greater
Or of more importance
Than meeting our Maker
In war-rooms of prayer

© Janet Martin

 As I read this parable I couldn't help but mourn/fear the Great Fall of our great country of Canada/North America as its builders reject the Stone ...

Psalm 118:22-
The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone;

 Isaiah 28:16
So this is what the Lord GOD says: 
"See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, 
a sure foundation; the one who believes will never be shaken.

 Therefore whosoever heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them,
 I will liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock:
 And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, 
and beat upon that house; and it fell not: for it was founded upon a rock.
 And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not,
 shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand:
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; 
and it fell: and great was the fall of it.

Image result for canada flag image

Saturday, June 29, 2019

Undressing Selfishness...(quick, grab me a towel)

Without God on the throne of our hearts
if we are totally honest with ourselves...we are monsters!

Undressing selfishness makes one want to run for cover...quick!
Grab me a towel... anything!
Through the whole of writing this I kept thinking 'this is harsh, kinda vulgar'
I'm not THAT bad, am I?!
Oh. Yes.

Lord of self, oh, hellish hunter
Always stalking your next prey
Never caring who you trample
In the quest to have your way
Heaping, like a greedy glutton
Hearts upon your dinner plate
Lord of self, you will be lonesome
In your little hut of hate

Lord of self, you’ll never find it
The hollow you try to fill
Always leaves you empty-minded
Even after the Big Kill
Lord of self, you are a monster
In spite of well-dressed disguise
You can’t hide the hurt and hunger
Gleaming in your loveless eyes

Lord of self, those heads you step on
While you strain to the next hole
Chains you like a neutered lion
To deep sadness of the soul
Lord of self, pitiful patron
Self is never satisfied
You will be the lord of longing
In your little hut of pride

© Janet Martin

Philippians 2:3-4
Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.

For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every evil thing.

Here's a song to draw us to the comfort of the One who saves us from ourselves!

Friday, June 28, 2019

So Real, Yet So Surreal

 ...and just like that June has almost flashed by!!

Windows frame a panoramic Masterpiece where green and gold
‘Neath blue heavens sets the stage for cast of colour to unfold

Moments like mist-kissed ellipses melt and meld present to Past
What yet waits always eclipses whispers we are holding fast

Morning pours from doors up yonder to earth’s berth; we, passers through
Often overcome with wonder in a world of ‘nothing new’

Summer, like a silver sparkle slipping from a sumptuous vine
Enchants us with pink and purple snows of rose and columbine

We, all somewhat bound together by the weather and A Wheel
Find, in Farewell's seasoned tether, common ground and grind, surreal

Wanting nothing now but the momentous Moment, all we plead
We feel falling through our fingers like a slideshow gath’ring speed

© Janet Martin

Thursday, June 27, 2019

Once Upon a Time and Place (that always steals the child away)

 Victoria ready for Prom

Once we were the ones who danced on heartstrings without second thought
Too young to stand still too long, where strong the tug-for-more besought
Once we wore the wings that fluttered far too fast to who-knew-where
Didn’t know that daddy’s heart was like a big, fat teddy bear

Once we were the son or daughter who turned mom’s heart inside out
Eager to test deeper waters in a world we heard about
Once we catered to the lion roaring behind rib-caged bars
Didn’t know her heart was like a dart-board bearing sacred scars/stars

Once upon a time and place that always steals the child away
We were heedless as the wind, of that which turns the dark tress gray
Once while mom and dad stood by we tried the tender ties that bind
Didn’t know how soon we would step into shoes they left behind

© Janet Martin

So thankful to the host of Victoria's pre-prom celebration...
She picked me up (as I was car-less today and not exactly living next door!)
 so I could enjoy the moment/memories

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Ode to June (or a beginning of summer celebration song)

 I've been looking for a bit of time to write an ode 
to one of my favorite months that always flashes by!

 I didn't get a chance to write a First Day of Summer Poem this year
so I guess this is in place of...

Lane-ways lined with lily-looms
Bare feet planted in the dirt
Sky-wide outdoor living-rooms
Garden salad…for dessert

Flower-bower brogue beguiles
Who can resist summer’s sigh?
Sort of like a lover smiles
To his true love passing by

Green and silver concerto
Ripples across grassy bars
Where June’s flute and piano
Plays a tune of petal-stars

Breezes banter, trees reply
Composition, blue and jade
Beckons bee, bird, butterfly
To lush lilts of dappled shade

Now nature holds nothing back
Free-for-all long longed for show
Scatters beauty’s bric-a-brac
Anywhere that it can grow

Winds it round the weathered gate
Binds the wounds of earth with bloom
Nothing can quite compensate
For the tender touch of June

Climb dusk’s blue ladders of sod
Soft on lofty hillside laid
Reach and touch the hand of God
From the temple He has made

Wade with minnows in the brook
Linger longer, smell the rose
Live the pictures in a book
That soon June will gently close

© Janet Martin