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Friday, March 11, 2022

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 inπŸ˜…)
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)πŸ˜„

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


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...

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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!