Ah, Glorious Beginnings

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Don't you love life's beginnings;

buds, babies/tots,

 spring and summer mornings?!!

...the blip before time's telling tales

of blooms, birthdays and betrothals 

bearing us breath by breath toward life's twilight?!!

ah, glorious beginnings

so lovely to behold

a bursting bud, a baby

a sunrise, blush and gold

ah, garden, freshly planted

harboring renewed hope

ah, young love, dream enchanted

before life replies 'nope'

ah, verdant June showcasing

green-gleaming countryside

ah, jubilant joy gracing

a beaming groom and bride

ah, glorious beginnings

before Time takes its toll

Before the crucial endings

that prove the heart and soul

Ah beauty, stooped and weathered

Duty and battle-taught

Ah, holy harvest gathered

(the planting long forgot)

Ah, glorious survival

No wishing can pretend

surpassing every rival

with 'faithful to the end'

Janet Martin

1 Cor.2:24-25

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run,

 but only one receives the prize? 

Run in such a way as to take the prize.

 25Everyone who competes in the games trains with strict discipline. 

They do it for a crown that is perishable, 

but we do it for a crown that is imperishable.

Daily Celebration

 PAD Challenge day 4: it's two-for-Tuesday!

Here are the two prompts for today:

• Write a beginning poem. And, of course, when something begins, it often signals something else ending. Soooo, the other prompt is to…
• Write an ending poem. Poem about something ending.

Each day is an invitation

To keep on keeping on

A daily celebration

Of what begins at dawn

Each day is a gift from heaven

To prove, lest we forget

Mercy’s soft salutation

‘We are not finished yet’

Each day is like a secret

It spills from ether shells

The very Thing that keeps it

Is the very Thing that tells

© Janet Martin

Grand Victory

  PAD Challenge day 4 (two-for-Tuesday)

Write a beginning poem. And, of course, when something begins, it often signals something else ending. Soooo, the other prompt is to…

Write an ending poem. Poem about something ending.

I guess we know

To begin again

Means simply to renew

With who we are

Right where we are

The best that we can do

To begin again

Is to remember

Lessons we have learned

Where we are wiser

Than we were

Through knowledge we have earned

An end, my friend

Is the beginning

Of what waits to be

And to begin again

Means winning

A grand victory

© Janet Martin

For All We Cannot See

  PAD Challenge day 4 (two-for-Tuesday)

Write a beginning poem. And, of course, when something begins, it often signals something else ending. Soooo, the other prompt is to…

Write an ending poem. Poem about something ending.

 

 

Sometimes we try to fix our eyes only on what we see

The Prize, my love, is not unveiled until eternity

So while we cope and grope and hope, what blessed assurance this;

Our faithful God does not forget; He keeps His promises

Time; but the chime and mime of clocks; a grace-lent madrigal

Its end is the Beginning of what matters most of all

We cannot find true peace of mind until our will is bowed

To God, forgiver of our sins; but He resists the proud

Sometimes we try to fix our eyes and sighs on what we see

But Jesus is the only Way to Life and Victory

His love, oh, not his judgement, is salvation for mankind

He promises that whosoever seeks will surely find

This life begins in full, my love, when first we are set free

To trust our faithful God above for all we cannot see

© Janet Martin

 Therefore, with minds that are alert and fully sober, set your hope on the grace to be brought to you when Jesus Christ is revealed at his coming.

1 Pet.1:13

Miracle

 PAD Challenge day 4 (two-for-Tuesday)

Write a beginning poem. And, of course, when something begins, it often signals something else ending. Soooo, the other prompt is to…

Write an ending poem. Poem about something ending.

Begin again;

One foot and then

The other,

That’s the way

For what seemed

Like the end

Last eve

Is a fresh start

Today

The miracle

Of time is this;

Where new

Is birthed

From old

With nothing more

Than dark that lifts

And fills

Its arc with gold

© Janet Martin