Propriety of Poetry (Part 1)

At the dentist, while the screen overhead

broadcasted the latest distressing/sobering war updates

the friendly young assistant and I chatted

(while my freezing was setting in😅)

about how we re-appreciate the simplest of things

(yes! even visits to the dentist!)

in the light of everything going on right now

And on that note, the propriety of poetry!

(yes! Even in times like these)

When Job lamented of his troubles

 (with what seems like extremely just cause)

God replied with one of the most poetic powerful passages of scripture

opening Job's and our eyes to His mighty wisdom and providence. 

May the poetry published here always

mirror the majesty of Him

and stir the writer and reader to

dearer awareness and awe

of He by whose grace we go

Over and over children remind me to pause

And take delight in simple things

The photo below I entitle

Poetry of Scrambled Eggs

or

On the Hem of the Master's Robe

Matt.19:14 NIV

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, 

for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

Inside scoop to photo: I looked down to see three curious, upturned faces

wondering at the noise way up on the kitchen counter 

where I was using the egg-beater to scramble the eggs for lunch.

 "Well, said Cook a little dumb-struck at the hint of halos...

 "what's to stop me from bringing it down to your level so you can watch and learn?

 So she did. And yes, everyone who wanted a turn got one. 

(some with a little help of course)😄

Imagine if we turned blind eyes

To penmanship of earth and skies

And could not, from this beveled globe

Perceive the hemline of His Robe

…and did not pause to trace the part

That stills the tempests of the heart

Or with glad eagerness and vim

Of children, did not notice Him

…the Master/Maestro of all poetry

Imagine if we would not see

Beyond the showcase of the frame

To recognize the Author’s Name

…then miss the joy that sings and sings

With thankfulness that His Name brings

And thrill to taste the ink that drips

To earth from heaven’s fingertips

…to tremble like a silver gem

In Time’s momentous diadem

And emphasize the praiseworthy

Vestige of Divine Poetry

The lesser poets of this world

Gape at masterpieces unfurled

Where inkwells of sky, sea and sod

Swell with the magnitude of God

Imagine if we bowed to doubt

And instead, let the stones cry out

And missed the sweet humility

Of listening to God’s poetry

...with childlike wonder to delight

In poems only He can write

Then if a verse should start to brim

What honour then to honour Him

© Janet Martin

this poem had the impetus to run wild!

Thus the title includes (Part 1)

just in case there's more

Job 38:1-3

Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said:

 “Who is this that obscures my plans

with words without knowledge?

 Brace yourself like a man;

I will question you,

and you shall answer me...