A Rhyme For Time's Fellow-travelers

PAD Challenge day 21:For today’s prompt, write a travel poem...

 

We’ve come so far together, by time’s common tether bound

The shift of days to years endears us to its trampled dust

While well-known yet uncharted territory breaks new ground  

As on yon brink dawn yawns, bright pink and unveils frames of trust

Evidence of fresh favor fills a tray that brims with grace

Daybreak is like a scepter stretched across a waking world

Where pilgrims of love’s providence cannot one mile retrace

Where we are all trailblazers on dawn’s virgin breadth unfurled

How well we should have learned by now the way we ought to go

But somehow human nature is a stubborn mule to train

And bent on taking wrong turns, blazing through Caution-taped ‘no’

Till oh, the reason for its warning becomes very plain

I’m glad, aren’t you, that we never travel the same day twice

But always we embark upon the verge of bygone years

To leave within its wake testaments of virtue and vice

While molding crowns of wisdom with the spoil of smiles and tears

…as seasons surge and merge, its color-wheel is like a loom

That weaves time’s fallen leaves; how swift its subtle shuttle flies

The momentum of moments metes the mortar for the tomb

As the tempo of tick and tock composes lullabies

Some say that time is nothing but dust on a wayward wind

Some think that life's highway leads to, not through the silent grave

Some do not want to think about what soon is left behind

Or that which stems time's tide like the shoreline annuls the wave

Time brings us all together, voyageurs of day to day

To weathered high and lows in this who-knows-what-waits- sojourn

Where hope-and-dream’s horizon line is always far away

But here and now runs rife with life’s momentous no-return

© Janet Martin

Of Live-and-Learning's Page/Wage...

 I snapped this quickie-photo as I was heading out this morning...

...when I returned home the day was done!

Today was the funeral of the man from our church family
who passed away unexpectedly and I mentioned here on Monday.

 We all live in a world where none of us knows what a day, much less an hour holds!

This should surely cause us to touch down on dawn's blank page

many expressions of kindness and sympathy!

I began this poem this morning but was unable to finish it before I needed to leave...

Day dawns and splays beneath our touch the likeness of an empty page

And who knows what will spill from mortal quill where mercy sets the stage

But He who authorizes and bestows the breath and breadth of It

Grants confidence and courage as we pause and talk to Him a bit

How heartily an hour can devour seasons blink by blink

And where the page was bare it wears invisible, permanent ink

But while we earn the stars and scars of live-and-learning’s hard-fought wage

God never grants a second chance on anything but a fresh page

Now what we, once upon our youth thought we could outrun or outsmart

Pays homage to the age-old truth that mellows our mind and heart

And fills us with meek gratitude, and attitudes of sympathy

For we, kinda like family, all face what only God can see

Day dawns and splays beneath our touch what live-laugh-love will soon estrange

The platform for our such-and-such is subject to plan’s sudden change

Where we could all be terrified by What If’s wild-flung avenue

Without God’s promise verified; ‘My peace I leave and give to You’

© Janet Martin

 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.

I do not give to you as the world gives. 

Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

John 14:27

Sacred Bric-a-Brac

 Does death not stoke in us a sacred sensitivity for life?!

There is something about death that makes the simple things in life sacred...

...and what may look like plain old mess at first glance 

are actually music-notes in a momentous montage!

There are mouths to feed, hands to hold and help,

and feet that feel at home enough to kick off footwear and run!

The wand that wakens flowers

And woos them into bloom

And stokes the soundless showers

Of petals from the plume

The lowered moat of morning

That moves twixt God and man

And metes the miles adorning

Past’s ever-never span

The rod that rules the Reason

Beneath the rush of days

And runs season to season

Through Time’s unyielding ways

The wow that bursts with wonder

And chauffeurs Hope from hurt

Where love and longing thunder

Where hunger rakes the dirt

The font that fills the pages

With aftermath of rose

And authors from the ages

Life’s poetry and prose

The music made of messes

The crumbs of broken bread

The humble happiness-es

That bow the heart and head

The law that lends the ladle

That blends laughter and tears

And rocks the baby’s cradle

Soon lost to yester-years

The tray that tips with treasure

Soon tendered to farewell

That strews gossamer measure

Where death’s white diamonds fell

The song that deepens dearness

With every fading This

Because we sense the nearness

Of what no longer is

…becomes, this side of Heaven

The sacred bric-a-brac

Of the life we are given

Until God takes it back

© Janet Martin

 Titus 2:11-15 BSB

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men.

It instructs us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, 

and to live sensible, upright, and godly lives in the present age,  

as we await the blessed hope and glorious appearance of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.  

He gave Himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for Himself 

a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds.

Speak these things as you encourage and rebuke with all authority.

 Let no one despise you.

Life's Odyssey

I'm sorta having a life-is-but-a-dream moment picking the last gr.12 grad photos

Sorta like a dream sometimes, these moments turned to fact

Sorta like a clock that chimes Time’s disappearing act

Sorta like a love song strummed on strings of subtlety

Sorta like a mural hung where only thought can see

Sorta like a blur of summer-autumn-winter-spring

Sorta like an upward spark; this strange and one-time Thing

Sorta like a puppy learning lessons more than once

Sorta like a locket, dear, that smiles and tears ensconce

Sorta like a tug-of-war twixt hold and letting go

Sorta like a drink we pour; a mix of wonder-woe

Sorta like a poem pressed on pages of thin air

Sorta like a pilot’s first run, testing wings of prayer

Sorta like a journey on a gurney made of sod

Sorta like a leap of faith; life’s odyssey to God

© Janet Martin

The Naked Truth (about This; Love)

 This thoroughfare offers much to applaud

Free to enjoy, by the grace of God

This thoroughfare of push and shove

Of glittered grit and grin

Of failure’s temporary glove

And triumph’s weathered skin

This constant attempt to succeed

In this most human race

Where we are all creatures of need

Dependent on God’s grace

This place of ‘all-first-timers here’

Learning though our mistakes

Where longing whets the tender tear

And laughter heals its aches

Where all we have can leave a hole

Beyond the reach of Touch

A hunger we cannot console

With food, fortune and such

Where love stripped of pretentious noise

And vain-glorious pride

Stands naked in its tomb of toys

With nothing left to hide

Where all it boasts is not enough

‘til we discover This;

The height of happiness and love

Is found through what one gives

© Janet Martin

 As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury.  

 He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins.  

 “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others.  

 All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; 

but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”

Luke 21:1-4