Showing posts with label Master Painter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Master Painter. Show all posts

Monday, January 2, 2017

Master-pieces





God creates no desolation
Winter’s tree, a lovely gray
Nature’s each season-creation
Beautiful in its own way

God excites our warped perception
Startles sight with snow-traced limb
Where the Author of perfection
Strews Master-pieces of Him

© Janet Martin

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Masterpiece Maker





Hung upon the frame of Ages
Streams each masterpiece from God
Heaven’s handiwork assuages
Heart and soul, sky, sea and sod

Winter, spring, summer and autumn
Adhere to Creator’s law
Masterpieces by the thousand
Startle spectators with awe

Dawn is never bent or broken
Worship spills where eyes applaud
Mercy magnifies its token
With each masterpiece from God

Who but He can color skylines?
Who but He can tint the seas?
Who but God with naught but thought paints
Masterpieces with such ease

Wrung upon the walls of hillsides
Hung upon yon halls of blue
Flung upon meadow and mountain
Strung in diamond-drops of dew

Whisper, thunder, over, under
God spills wonder all around
Where-so-ever we may wander
Masterpieces can be found

© Janet Martin


 “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?
    Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
    Who stretched a measuring line across it? 
 On what were its footings set,
    or who laid its cornerstone— 
 while the morning stars sang together
    and all the angels shouted for joy?

Job 38:4-7

Friday, October 23, 2015

Moment-ous Masterpiece





While sitting in the Dr.'s office with my mother-in-law this morning, 
I was blown away by the culmination of moments 
creating a room filled with kind-tempered, compassionate Masterpieces of Beauty.(a lot of them likely 80+ yrs. in the making:)

Distracted and deceived
By appearance we
Are apt to overlook
Masterpiece-stories tucked beneath
The bark of a book

Persuaded by emotion
Sometimes perhaps we
Forget the read-worthiness
Of an old
Gnarled tree

Time dispenses moments
A loyal, benevolent thief
Rendering beauty far deeper
Than the lilting
Span of leaf

Distracted and deceived
By appearance of
Moments accumulated
We are apt to overlook 
Masterpieces Time created

© Janet Martin

Masterpieces take Time.

OctPoWriMo day 23: a drop in the ocean
 or how the accumulation of many 'Smalls' creates something Big.
 

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Isn't It Just Perfect?














Isn’t it just perfect; the colors on God’s brush
Never seem to run awry or dribble quite a muck
He touches to earth’s canvas masterpieces; frame on frame
Filling the universe with glimpses of His sacred name

Isn’t it just perfect; turquoise, periwinkle, tangerine
Who can boast of canvas ether blue and earthy-green?
Or who, with thought can breathe to Being beauty beyond word
Where only blindest ignorance fails to see Heaven stirred

Isn’t it just perfect; how His pages fit just right?
One melts into the next in seamless season-appetite  
As He hangs from time’s trestles wonderment to rare for pen
Yet, we cannot stay silent as He stuns our gaze again

Isn’t it just perfect; how a bit of sky and sod
Overwhelms the heart with worship as we witness Holy God
Brushing His Light on darkness, masterpieces, ageless, new
Oh, isn’t it just perfect, what the hand of God can do?

© Janet Martin

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Of Veiled Masterpieces





‘Tis futile to rebel to colors dripping from God’s brush,
For who of us can tell the what, the wherefore or the why
Of He who paints the hurling gale or frosted morning hush?
His mercy falls in moment-drops and dwarf’s time’s minute sky

The colors on God’s brush are drawn from wellsprings filled with love
The tempering of mankind’s will and want may mystify
Our scope of understanding, but the Artist from above
Is not remiss; but longs man’s heart of hearts to satisfy

…and though we moan and groan beneath the colors of His will
and mark Time’s measure with its ticking clock and turning page
This Artist speaks in fathoms far beyond the visual
The fathoms of His grace exceeds the confines of thought’s cage

The colors dripping from God’s brush are not mere happenstance
But carefully He chooses shades of pardon’s purposed plan
And while we see in moments He sees past our circumstance
...His finished work a masterpiece within the heart of man

© Janet Martin

My very first impulse was to sigh a bit when I saw a fresh froth of snow this morning, but we are not the choosers of God’s colors.
What a mess that would be!

…on the bright side, my hubby just mentioned that its been a long time since he has had something he can so faithfully complain about!


Sunday, November 10, 2013

November Beauti-tone



 Yes, even brown and bronze beneath blue-gray is beautiful...November's brooding beauti-tone.

Where once the painted hill had been
Of sumac red and evergreen
Of golden birch-leaf butterfly
A-glitter beneath sapphire sky
…and emerald-dew and clover-hue
Rushed out to where green brushes blue
November bleeds its beauty-tone
Of brown and bronze and cold, gray stone

The crimson crown of maple-crest
The gleaming gown of willow-wisp
The auburn and the amethyst
Of autumn noon and morning mist
Are gathered in a mixed bouquet
Of moments that are tossed away
The colors on the Painters tray
Are brown and bronze and granite-gray

Fair flowered frock falls from earth’s form
Beneath its sheaf the seed is warm
As sturdy smocks are buttoned tight
Across a girth prepared for white
Our gaze is drawn toward the plain
Where green of grass and gold of grain
Must wait beneath a somber gown
Of gray and bronze and brooding brown

© Janet Martin






Sunday, September 2, 2012

I Come Out Here to Listen...





I come out here to listen
To the sky-line lullaby
To hear its vesper glisten
On the deep end of good-by

The Maestro of this orchestra
The Hand that tunes its choir
Composes twilight’s masterpiece
In chords of holy fire

Above this troubled clod of dirt
With all its torn devotion
He calms our visages of hurt
With heaven’s flaming ocean

I come out here to listen
To love’s soulful solitude
As it melts upon the evening
In a tender-whelming flood

The bumps and scrapes of living
Are predictable and plain
But the overtures of heaven
Who can imitate its strain?

I come out here to listen
To His hallowed vespers swell
As I hear Him softly whisper,
It is well, it is well

© Janet Martin




Monday, January 23, 2012

Master Painter



Into His heavenly palette He dips an ethereal brush
While slumb'ring earth lays dormant on the palm of midnight's hush
He gently breathes in dulcet tones upon the darkened sky
A hint of lavender and bronze to tease the wakening eye
And as the doleful veil recedes with heaven's passion stirred
The puddles, lakes and oceans bleed in colors of His word
As hope takes on the burnished hue of orange and ruddy glow
Reflected in the morning dew like ruby-tinted snow
Then drooping hearts and heavy eyes are lifted from despair
Enlightened by the glorious art-work startling placid air
And bolder now the Painter speaks, impassioned in His quest
To render sangfroid doubters weak and His believers blessed
He splashes ‘cross the universe fluorescent pink and gold
Stroking afar the blackened curse in shades redeeming; bold
As grace in glorious form declares, ‘Behold, the great I AM'
His wonder fills the morning air; the shadow of The Lamb
Whilst I in my amazement whisper softly, ‘who am I
That You should bless me with freely with this master-piece from high?’

Janet~