Day Maker

John 1:3

All things were made through Him, 

and without Him nothing was made 

that was made.

Psalm 95:1-8

Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD;

let us shout to the Rock of our salvation!

2Let us enter His presence with thanksgiving;

let us make a joyful noise to Him in song.

3For the LORD is a great God,

a great King above all gods.

4In His hand are the depths of the earth,

and the mountain peaks belong to Him.

5The sea is His, for He made it,

and His hands formed the dry land.

6O come, let us worship and bow down;

let us kneel before the LORD our Maker.

7For He is our God,

and we are the people of His pasture,

the sheep under His care.

Today, if you hear His voice,

8do not harden your hearts...

Yon welkin pastures pale

Unveiling new today

On chariots of misted dale

The night is drawn away

…as mercy lights the wick

With hands of Perfect Will

And sets Love's gleaming candlestick

On heaven’s windowsill

Where time’s table is spread

With joy beyond compare

Because we are His people led

Through pastures of His care

Of all that may befall

Of all that we partake

The Maker and Giver of all

Will not His sheep forsake 

© Janet Martin

Psalm 118:19-24

Open to me the gates of righteousness,

that I may enter and give thanks to the LORD.

20This is the gate of the LORD;

the righteous shall enter through it.

21I will give You thanks, for You have answered me,

and You have become my salvation.

22The stone the builders rejected

has become the cornerstone.d

23This is from the LORD,

and it is marvelous in our eyes.e

24This is the day that the LORD has made;

we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Beauty-Bombardment

We need only to look within us and around us

to soon be bombarded with life's Unbeautiful!

But pray we are never so burdened by the unbeautiful 

that we miss the beauty (of the Lord)

Psalm 27:4

One thing have I desired of the LORD, 

that will I seek after; 

that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life,

 to behold the beauty of the LORD, 

and to inquire in his temple.

Forbid that in this world that brims with beauty of the Lord

With morning-tide, unfurled in hymns of mercy’s vow restored...

With lilies, though they do not toil or spin, God weaves their cloak

In grander garb than queen or king’s royal garments bespoke...

Where Innocence is following us with unbridled trust...

Where labor is a love-song to He who its page bestows

Where joy is like a fountain as thanksgiving overflows...

Forbid that in this world that brims with beauty of the Lord

With morning-tide, unfurled in hymns of mercy’s vow restored

With lilies, though they do not toil or spin, God weaves their cloak

In grander garb than queen or king’s royal garments bespoke

Forbid that where the beauty of a helping hand is sought

Where far more than stiff duty stirs us from sweet slumber’s cot

(Because love gladdens ups and downs of toil and happiness

And hope is like The Rose that crowns the thorns that prick and press)

Forbid that in this place where each new day of grace is poured

Through the flue of God’s smiling face (though He is oft ignored)

Where Hallowed Glimpse is hollowing each frame of dust to dust

Where Innocence is following us with unbridled trust

Where beauty of a baby is life's sweetest, purest loan

Where in the midst of Maybe God's Word anchors the unknown

Where nature is a theater of Eden's tarnished void  

Where someday the Creator will restore what sin destroyed 

Where what we cannot fathom should fashion each day we live

Where One authors a question to An Answer all will give

Where Example is coaching the most tender among us

Where we are all approaching A Most Sacred Exodus

Where all we have is Given by the One who grants its means

Where night’s dark veil is riven where dawn’s grail spills color-scenes

Where God’s Word is not shaken though Unbelief waxes bold

Where One Day all will waken to undoubtedly ‘Behold’

Where labor is a love-song to He who its page bestows

Where joy is like a fountain as thanksgiving overflows

Where time is but a quiver on strings of eternity

Forbid I (we) scorn its Giver and a Blind Bystander be

Forbid that I (we) do nothing where goodness and mercy brim

But trample the fine clothing of the love and grace of Him

Forbid I (we) miss the thunder of Beauty that wills today

And never thrill with wonder at Love’s sumptuous buffet

…and never be bombarded by the Beauty of the Lord

Dismayed and broken-hearted without comfort, Word-restored

Forbid we spurn the kindness of God’s faithful keep and care

Because we turn to blindness of Unbelief’s Deep/dark Despair

© Janet Martin

Rev. 1:4-8

Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, 

and who is to come, and from the seven spirits a before his throne,

  5and from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, 

the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.

To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood,

  6and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father—

to him be glory and power for ever and ever!

 Amen.

7“Look, he is coming with the clouds,” b

and “every eye will see him, even those who pierced him”;

and all peoples on earth “will mourn because of him.” c

So shall it be! 

Amen.

8“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God,

 “who is, 

and who was, 

and who is to come, 

the Almighty.”

Mist-kissed Flower

This poem is a bit of bittersweet longing

 for the days/ 'mist' of July; 

a month that always seems to vanish too fast!

James 4:14

What is your life? 

You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

Psalm 103:15-16

As for man, his days are like grass—

he blooms like a flower of the field;

16when the wind passes over, it vanishes,

and its place remembers it no more.

Sweet day, you wend your way through thought and touch to disappear

The sparkle of your subtle shuttle weaving yester-year

Like ripples on a lake of laughter; longing-hold-let go

Where echelons of ever-after ever ebb and flow

It makes life feel a little like a dreamland made of mist

A little like a spectacle of echoes/roses to untwist

Dawn spills and fills dusk’s purple tray with latest live-and-learn

Where always, sweet today, you wend your way to No Return

…only to reappear, my dear, as new as new can be

To weave fresh wisps of smile-and-tear/dust veneer into a memory

Bruised bliss, This; being brave enough to kiss your hands and feet

And dance with you, sweet day; for love is always bittersweet

…sometimes I get the sense of you soft-slipping from my touch

And sometimes then, I wish I didn’t love you quite so much

Sweet day, you spill your hour to a bower of Back When

Like petals from a flower that will never bloom again

© Janet Martin

I'm off to spend a sweet day among hollyhocks, green beans, tomatoes aka Garden😊

Summer Getaway...

Brush of breezes tickles treetops

Rush of ripples sighs

Ruffling sheen of silver-green

Against azure skies

Sunbeam-frazzled stars bedazzle

Diamond-studded lake

Shriek of gull and children lull

Dreamers half-awake

Catch of phrases, laughing faces

Sand between tanned toes

Sailors, surfers, strollers, loafers

Sea-song ebbs and flows

Pages linger between fingers

Book-worlds bob and blur

Beach umbrellas bloom, reds, yellas,

Waves-swells melt and slur

Beauty teases, duty eases

Its grip on today

Clocks forgiven, dock-end heaven

Summer getaway

© Janet Martin

Trove of Glimmers

 For the sake of the reader and a long must-do task list I must reel in the poetic rush this poem kindled...

She writes to relive, nay, preserve, the sparkle of the splash

Where soon the arms of Must will curve around childhood’s fleet dash...

She writes to ponder in her heart the faithfulness of God

To share the beauty of His art in sky... and sea... and sod...

She writes to feel the warp and wage where past and future merge

She braves the barrenness of page for the rush of the verge

She dredges deeps of heart and soul for a poem to snare

Like a fisherman born to troll phantom oceans of air

She writes to relive, nay, preserve, the sparkle of the splash

Where soon the arms of Must will curve around childhood’s fleet dash

Where, what in the moment may seem a very staying sum

Soon wafts like fragments of a dream she suddenly woke from

She writes to linger on the brink where dusk’s plum shadows sprawl

To paint with nothing but black ink, the wonder/thunder of it all

Where the drumroll of wanderlust ignores the shores of Time

She writes, to salvage from plumbed dust a memento of rhyme

She writes to garner from a trove of glimmers Bygone-blurred

The pleasantries of life and love immortalized in word

She writes to run her fingers through ethereal echo-fray

Where far to soon the dark runs blue and blush with break of day

She writes to wring from ragged ruin the raw rub of regret

To secure a sense of Still June when long its sun has set

She writes to keep at fingertips awareness of a toll

From which the garb of seasons slips to leave only Her soul

She writes to ponder in her heart the faithfulness of God

To share the beauty of His art in sky and sea and sod

To sift life’s gift with poetry, then share its happiness

To leave behind a legacy of mindful thankfulness

© Janet Martin

No Easy Street ...But God, Faithful and True

Psalm 16:11

You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy;

At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Today I am helping at the funeral of a dear sister in our church family

who lived ninety-nine and a half years on this earth

with many, many joys and trials,

but the moment she closed her eyes the shroud of Time fell away,

the glass she peered through darkly disappeared;

in the twinkle of an eye the corruptible put on incorruption, 

mortality put on immortality!

Thinking about this makes us re-evaluate what really matters, doesn't it?!

In the Sweet By and By

Johnny Cash

(would love to link each line to the scripture but

There is a funeral meal waiting to be prepared💗👑😊🙏)

This is no Easy Street; this ‘fighting the good fight’

This ‘making every effort to Shine forth, a blameless light

To walk as wise, not fools; to be careful to keep

God’s commandments and laws, lest idly, we fall asleep

This is no Easy Street; this walk by faith, not sight’

This ‘renouncing ungodliness’, this ‘suffering for Christ’

This ‘walking worthy of the calling we received

Worthy of the gospel of Christ we confessed and believed

This is no Easy Street; to ‘therefore watch and pray’

To take up our cross to follow Jesus every day

To make faith’s sacred calling and election very sure

To be strong in the Lord through the hardship we must endure

This is no Easy Street; obedience and trust

To follow what is good and to deny all worldly lust

To be rich in good works; to walk humbly and kind

To love the Lord our God will all our heart, soul, strength and mind

This is no Easy Street; to take captive each thought

And not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought

To offer our bodies as a living sacrifice

And to shun profane babbling that leads to ungodly vice

This is no Easy Street; to repay good for ill

To surrender as Jesus did and utter ‘not my will’

To know the Scriptures so that we are thoroughly equipped

To abound in love and good works like our Example did

And give more earnest heed to that which we have heard

To grow in the knowledge and grace of Jesus through His word

To commit to stand firm; to take heed, lest we fall

He who saved us has called us to the greatest work of all

This is no Easy Street; but God, faithful and true

Is rich and grace and mercy and He cares for me and you

Who, through his risen Son, births in us living hope

The Father of compassion and comfort who helps us cope

…and makes us strong in Him; the power of His might

When we put on His full armor, will fit us for the fight

For God resists the proud but gives the humble grace

His eyes are on the righteous who long to behold His face

…who strain toward the goal; with holy zeal press on

To win the prize of God’s heavenly calling in His Son

Who lay up heavenly store; who have ‘beautiful feet’

Whose joy is in the Lord and not in quests for Easy Street

This is no Easy Street; the strait that few will find

That leads to life when soon we leave this world of strife behind

Where the fulness of joy and pleasures evermore 

Make worth the little while and mile that we suffer before

© Janet Martin

Summer-sweep

With the last week of July underway

summer's swift sweep/leap is becoming increasingly tangible...

Wild grapevine climbs the fence

Bliss is a tendril caught...

Where summer brims with poetry

Like a fruit-laden plate...

The beach at dusk is grand

A speechless 'my-oh-my'

A wild, wind-wave-tossed wonderland

Of sand and sea and sky...

Wild grapevine climbs the fence

Bliss is a tendril caught

On the barbwire of consequence

Threading freedom of thought

Thought wanders, fancy free

So much to contemplate

Where summer brims with poetry

Like a fruit-laden plate

The fruit of toil is sweet

Cherry, blueberry, peach

Afternoon rolls across bare feet

Like waves across a beach

The beach at dusk is grand

A speechless 'my-oh-my'

A wild, wind-wave-tossed wonderland

Of sand and sea and sky

The sky is its own world

A burgeoning buffet

Glory's declaration unfurled

In blue-blush-swirled, mauve-gray

In ripe yellow and red

Earth echoes heaven's hymn

To overflow the garden bed

As seed and bud-berths brim

...with fresh five-star cuisine

Veggie charcuterie

Hollyhock bistros, pink and green

Beckon to honeybee

...as cricket-balladeers

Kindle tugs, bittersweet

Because we know what disappears

With each rippled tweet-tweet

Sunshine steeps soul and skin

Gold seeps into each pore

Where happiness cannot begin

To tally Delight’s score

While heights of summer pale

Like petals, bright but brief

While flower laden frigates sail

Where death is always chief

...while milestones beck and blur

Sun-sparkles on life's sea

To catch our breath before summer

Becomes a memory

...let's savour without guilt

Without apology

An afternoon spread on a quilt

Beneath a picnic-tree

© Janet Martin

...with fresh five-star cuisine

Veggie charcuterie...

Hollyhock bistros, pink and green

Beckon to honeybee...

A Ride (literally) Down Memory Lane

My third-youngest brother (Lewis) treated us to wagon-ride down Memory lane

(back our sideroad and local backroads)

on Saturday at our annual summer Martin family reunion...

Lots of laughter-filled reminiscing💖

(because most of us sister's childhood memories of wagon rides was to or from stone-picking,

 one of my sister's said 'yes! she would love a wagon ride!

 as long as there are no stones waiting to be picked😂😂)

 

(Dad and Mom, treasuring the flashbacks)

Young people getting a ride to the baseball field 

before we had our turn...

(to respect privacy faces have been blurred)

Where wild flowers still bloom and dust of youth still (almost) flies

Where fields gleam with bent barley-plumes beneath still cloud-strewn skies...

A few of my siblings teased me about a poem percolating as we trundled down dirt roads

and memory-lanes...while in the moment I couldn't imagine what was to come of it,

it was too special an occasion not to at least try to capture!

I tried to reel it in but it turned out longer than (Hubby, ahem,) 

quick readers would likely prefer...😅

We peer with distant gaze back to a long-forsaken world

Where out of Bygone’s haze an echo-mirage is unfurled

As scenes of common stomping grounds revive in hearts and eyes

And resurrect from misted Bounds, dear childhood’s paradise

Of dusty lanes and creeks and strains of weeping willow’s sigh

The thrill of racing to watch or chase freight trains rumbling by

Of dad and mom much younger then, although we didn’t know

Caught in the quick of hunger and molding what soon would show/grow

…while never going hungry, though a dozen mouths to feed

While learning about boundaries and how fruit follows seed/deed

While always loved no matter what we did or didn’t do

(…as we acknowledge the college, we drew dear parents through)

As we revisit places wakened by Past's sudden swell

As we dare to share secrets; laughing, brave enough to tell

As we retrace bare footsteps tripped through pastures; cow-pie rich

Or point to ‘there A Hay Load Tipped’, ‘there Fast Car Found the Ditch’

Where wild flowers still bloom and dust of youth still (almost) flies

Where fields gleam with bent barley-plumes beneath still cloud-strewn skies

Where little trees are big trees now, where yester-children learned

How swift the hand put to the plow will find time’s tables turned

Where correction we would not choose is worth its weight in gold

Where now we walk in well-worn shoes of swiftly growing old

Where mom and dad (still with us) hold a very precious part

In every single (ten of us’s) thankful-prayerful heart

So humbly blessed, we marvel at the patient, loving care

That surely must have tested their most earnest, pleading prayer

Of accidents (but life was spared) of mischief-foolish pranks

Of innocence guarded, work shared, of humble giving thanks

Memories mete a melody where music-shadows wend

As time perfects the harmony of notes that didn’t blend

As treasure-laden vessels, bent, broken, warped, chipped, and scarred

Embrace each tender token composing childhood’s postcard

Where weathering youth’s recompense makes us meeker of mind

Truth’s tethering of consequence and circumstance entwined

With what our precious dad and mom instilled, example-shod

The cornerstone of home-sweet-home; of love and faith in God

© Janet Martin