There Will Be Roses...( Contemplating a New Year Poem)

Farewell, old year!

What a volume to retire

And place on a shelf in the heart

(Though not without tears for the tears it holds)

Hope Immortal cheers us onward

Newness, eager to inspire

Bids us close gently 

The Book of

 Has Been.

And 

ready faith to receive

A volume, fresh and clean.

Tonight, I will reach out my hand 

and take it,  not with trembling dread and fear

But with trust because the Giver (and Taker)

Is the Lord, and He is always near...

Ps.145:18

The LORD is near to all who call on him,

 to all who call on him in truth.

Psalm 34:18
The LORD is near to the brokenhearted;

 He saves the contrite in spirit.

Isaiah 55:6
Seek the LORD while He may be found; 

call on Him while He is near.

A Short Reflection First...

(before loosening the poetic rein and

Tossing restraint to the wind)

Quite Enough

What was, is yester-love

What waits, no one can tell

What is, my dear, is quite enough

With which to live life well

What was wafts beyond reach

What waits to be, who knows?

Today grants quite enough to teach

And keep love on its toes

What was, fills Bygone's trove

What waits, no one can see

Today is quite enough, my love

To make a memory

What was, is like spilled ink

What waits, no wish can bind 

What is, is quite enough, I think 

To keep us humbly kind  

Janet Martin

There will be roses to tickle our noses

To soothe the mean sting of love’s thorn

There will be beauty to cheer common duty

Served on a buffet of new morn

Purply-whispered and silvery-glistered

Dells filled with forget-me-not

Moments that thunder with worship-wild wonder

And moments oft lived and forgot

There will be gladness to counter grief’s sadness

Cheering love’s tear-weary wake

There will be sorrows still veiled by tomorrows

Still cradled in hope’s holy ache

There will be flowers and summer-dusk showers

Fine pleasures, like spring’s chuckling brooks

Maple-sweet toffee and cups of fresh coffee

Bird-song, a new ‘favorite book’

There will be kindness and self-centered blindness

Strolls through green, rolling countryside

Precious occasion for sweet celebration

Proud groom and young bride, starry-eyed

Humble submission to dream’s un-fruition

Hairpin sharp, hard-left learning curves

Begging for pardon and tea in the garden

*And Housewife-meets-mouse frazzled nerves

There will be mending of fences and tending

To tasks only noted when missed

Plan-rearranging, and hearts that need changing

Sweet babies-dear, cuddled and kissed

Back-breaking labour and helping our neighbor

Then soaking spent bones in warm suds

Prayer-bent desires and crackling campfires

Marshmallow-s’mores, famine and floods

Lunches with sisters, and blind-dates as Misters

And Misses-es search for soulmates

There will be singing and earth’s belfries ringing

With music only God creates

There will be bruises and ‘emptied oil cruses’

Trust-lessons in the face of need

There will be trouble aboard time’s brief bubble

To test and grow faith’s mustard seed

There will be struggle and pink honeysuckle

Peaches, pears, apples and plums

Twilight’s chin dripping with End of Day slipping

To Past’s un-trespass-able sums

Joyful surprises and coral sunrises

Puppies, both naughty and nice

Farmers that whistle till good humours bristle

At some revised, sky-high jacked price

There will be much care pioneering much prayer

‘Our Father who art in heaven’

Then, there will be peace as we learn to release

The onus of the petition

There will be dead ends, far and near old, new friends

And endless opportunity

And holiest holes in the silk of our souls

By much-missed loved one's memory

There will be fumbles, unflattering stumbles (ugh)

Thanksgiving-humbled supplicants

For no one is able to set repast's table

Without what God’s goodness first grants

There will be winners and warmed over dinners

Because someone had to work late

There will be faux pas and awed hallelujahs

And hot temper fueled debate

There will be bills, and *hearty laughter that spills

Life’s very best of medicine

Many a reason to treasure each season

No matter what season we’re in

There will be losses, and triumphs and crosses

Of ineffable tragedies

Echoes soft-haunting a future found wanting

There will be cricket-symphonies

While mommies and daddies, grampies and grammies

Need wisdom God's word will give

To guide explaining while sacredly training

A child in the way he should live

Midst messes and muddles and big shiny puddles

Luring little feet to its thrills

There will be stories of hardship and glories

All hinged upon ‘if the Lord wills’

© Janet Martin

** the starred lines unfolded during the

composing of this poem...

The first one needs no explanation; 'mouse' says it all!

The second was inspired by my mother who called while I was gathering

 this poem and she said something rather cute that struck my funny bone

and when she realized I was wheezing with laughter she started laughing too

and we both laughed till we cried,

And we agreed; Laughter is truly the best medicine.

James 4:15

Instead, you ought to say,

 “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live 

and do this or that.”

Take My Hand and Lead Me

(lyrics below)

I Will Not Forsake Thee

Step by step, take my hand and lead me, My Guide, my Light. (German) So nimm denn meine Hände und führe mich Bis an mein selig Ende und ewiglich! Ich kann allein nicht gehen, nicht einen Schritt; Wo Du wirst gehn und stehen, da nimm mich mit. O take my hand and lead me, my Guide, my Light, My path is rough and narrow in life's dark night. Your hand will safely hold me through night and day, You are my true companion, O with me stay. You cover me with mercy and cleanse my heart, Your goodness fills my being in every part. And with Your hand to guide me I'm not alone. Your presence lights my pathway until I'm at Home. As step by step we travel to reach the goal, Our songs of faith will echo and feed my soul. So take my hand and lead me until I see The heav'n where You receive me eternally.