Poem-Contemplations/Compilations From My Little Corner of Countryside

I love the way the seasons play upon the harps of countryside 

Their melody of majesty spills from plucked earth-strings far and wide 

I love how no one gets enough of what One greater than us grants 

Ah, don’t it make us wanna sing and don’t it make our heart-feet dance 

And don’t it wake a mystic ache as we partake of Beauty’s let

To trust the Hand that fills the land with such a gorgeous pirouette 

© Janet Martin 

I Want to Want… 

I want, not green-eyed envy when someone seems to collect 

With ease my dreams and fantasies I have not tasted yet 

I want to want unjealous joy 

And not let green-eyed mon destroy 

The happiness that waits for me in love’s kind-mind humility 

© Janet Martin 

In Plain Sight 

Be not deceived; God sees the heart 

Where our true passion lies 

He is not taken by the art 

Of winking, batted eyes 

But ever He seeketh to find 

In both aged and youth 

Worship that is humble and kind 

In spirit and in truth 

© Janet Martin 

Whether-challenge 

Whether our corner is noisy or quiet 

A color-riot or somber and plain 

Whether we borrow or whether we buy it 

Whether the weather is sunshine or rain 

Whether we ramble or rush with intention 

Push through the bramble or sail the high sea 

Whether we worry or wait without hurry 

Whatever else our whether may be 

God is the Giver of all that we savour 

Whether we consider Him, or not 

So thus, it behooves us if pray, He so moves us 

To give to the Giver the best we have got 

© Janet Martin 

Subtle Shuttle 

My, my, the metronome of moments 

Moves with smoothest ease 

It gathers both highlights and low blows 

Into memories 

My, my, time’s loom in us is subtle 

Where a shuttle whirs 

Weaving breath by breath a luminous 

Heath of lost summers 

© Janet Martin 

From the premonition of perhaps 

A sharp-edged awareness is born 

As we honestly admit our utter dependence 

On He who orchestrates the morn 

From the premonition of perhaps 

A world of fear or faith unfolds 

It all depends upon the vantage-point 

And the hand to which one holds 

© Janet Martin