Showing posts with label peonies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peonies. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 17, 2025

Dear Lucy, Then Heaven...


you were suddenly called Home...
May all of us who miss you so
honour your memory by loving well
those still within our reach!💓🙏

Lucy loved flowers...esp. peonies!
In her eulogy one of her children remembered her calling to them
to come and stuff their face in a peony 
'because you have not lived till you've stuffed your face in a peony!!'

So Lucy, this peony-season each face-stuffing is in tender memory of you...💝💔












 Won't you too, take time to stuff your face in a peony?!
and when you do, thank God for your loved ones, 
pray for those mourning the loss of a loved one
and consider, if God should call you as suddenly as He called Lucy
nine months ago, if you are prepared to meet Him
because you have received the gift of salvation 
when you believed in Him! 

This is one of the first verses our parents taught us to memorize
John 3:16
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, 
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

***

When Death, the Scythe that ceases Time, gathers a loved one beyond reach
Then Heaven, once hope's distance clime becomes longing's uttermost roar
Where, though we stagger 'neath the weight of lessons love must ever teach
We turn our eyes toward a Gate that gleams far fairer than before

When Death delivers Farewell's rift and stuns the grasp of mortal ken
Then Heaven, once salvation's gift becomes sorrow's song, over-joyed
And though our tears may flow, we know God's keeps His promises. Amen
He cheers us with strains of 'hello' wafting across yon, gaping void

When Death reminds we who remain how small-swift-sacred is life's lease 
When earthly loss is Heaven's gain then Heaven suddenly draws near
Compelling us with humbler hearts to look upon the Prince of Peace
Until faith turned to sight imparts the face of God and loved ones dear 

When Death, the Scythe that ceases time fells dust-to-dust's brief vestibule 
Then Heaven, once hope's distant clime draws grief to gaze beyond the grave
On He who gathers back the soul, who made Heaven's hope/Home possible 
Conquering death and hell for all who call on Him, Mighty To Save 

~Janet Martin





Wednesday, June 21, 2023

Peony-June


Peak peony-blooming time and longevity
 depends a lot on the temperatures of June.
This year's moderate to slightly cooler temps 
will hopefully vibrantly extend the much anticipated lifespan 
of our beloved peony!

Here is an attempt to share
a bit of pink petal-pleasure with you.
Enjoy!





Many a face has been buried deep in your perfumed bloom
Many a burdened carried then lost in your ruffled loom
Many a heart has been lifted, and many a witness awed
And many a bouquet gifted straight from the hand of God

Many a poem has thundered, many a poet been born
Many a marvel wondered while praising thy lovely form
Many a prayer has been murmured, and many a care set free
In thee, plush harbinger of summer, in thee, pretty peony

Many a gladness kindled, and many a sadness cheered
Many an atheist humbled by many a Beauty endeared
Where many a bud has broken and many a posy has strewn
Many a petal-pink token of many a peony-June

© Janet Martin











Thursday, June 16, 2022

Because It's All So Brief...from First Frond-Shimmer to Sheaf


A blend of panic and perfect pleasure
pervades my senses as I stand among
the brief and precious bloom of peonies...





(I just noticed on this photo above, 
the persistent bindweed has already resurfaced between the rocks, g-r-r-r!!
after I thought I tackled it thoroughly two weeks ago!! see this post)



Last night I realized the fading sheen of green in the neighboring grain field!
...evoking a tender tug, aware of the impending inevitable; June's farewell
Happy 2nd half of June!

The ups and downs
and in betweens
of grays and browns
and blues and greens
Unfolds an
ever-wending wow
from molds of
never-ending now
The ebb and flow
that tunes the sky
with dawn’s hello
and noon’s goodbye
Unravels as it
binds to sheaves
what sparkle-whit
unwinds and weaves
Where bidden nuance
woos its art
to hidden viewpoints
of the heart
Where oft we stand
to gaze, agape
at mist-soft land-
scapes taking shape
While hunger plunders
hills and holes
While wonder thunders
in our souls
With ups and downs
and in betweens
of grays and browns
and blues and greens
  

© Janet Martin


Psalm 144:4
Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.



Wednesday, June 15, 2022

What Ifs Versus What Is...


He who promised is faithful.
Heb.10:23

A flower isn't a flower until the bud unfolds the bloom!
What Is in bloom now?
Peonies in the flower garden!
And the Flower of What Is, in life...



The ‘what ifs’ of regret cannot undo what has been done
Where What Is sets time’s tables with fresh favors, mercy-spun
What if instead of wishing for what no wish can undo
We make the most of what is within reach of me and you
God’s mercy new each morning and His all-sufficient grace
Forgiveness for repentance, and His Word to gird our faith

What if instead of fretting and forgetting favours wrought
We focus on remembering What Is, with grateful thought
What if we trusted He who will our every need supply
Where What Is always hinges to far more than meets the eye
Far more goodness and mercy than mortal can comprehend
And love that has no boundaries of beginning or end

The ‘what ifs’ of yesterday and tomorrow borrow care
Today is overflowing with what is enough to bear
What if we take what is, in spite of so much that is not
And humbly honor He who gives us everything we've got
His everlasting promises, His love that will not fail
His wind beneath our wings, His anchor in the galling gale

The ‘what ifs’ of regret are futile; this new day set free
Is brimming with what is waiting for us to ‘taste and see’
What if we love God first and our neighbour next because
What is still most important has always been these two laws
Then what if we rely on He who is in full control
And simply love Him with all of our heart and mind and soul

© Janet Martin

Not all 'what ifs' are 'if onlys'
Sometimes What If is the spark that kindles the dream/bud before the flower!

Originally, the second line in this poem was
'Where What Is sets time’s tables with fresh battles to be won'
but the more I pondered (though the battles are real and often grueling)
the battlefield is cradled in His mercy!
His redemption is complete!
His loving kindness faithful!

Psalm 34:8
O taste and see that the Lord is good: 
blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

Psalm 100:5
For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; 
his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Phil.4:8
Finally, brothers and sisters, 
whatever is true, 
whatever is noble, 
whatever is right, 
whatever is pure, 
whatever is lovely, 
whatever is admirable—
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—
think about such things.




Tuesday, June 22, 2021

The Farewell We Are In...


Whenever I see the peonies begin to wilt and wither
I'm filled with a sense of loss...




Loss tends to make us bend a little closer to the bloom
To revel in the fragrant folds falling from summer’s loom
How subtle whirs the shuttle taming tendrils of the vine
Into a paisley fretwork of echo-woven design

Loss tends to make us kinder where we had been blind before
To how swift petals fade and fall to bloom for-nevermore
Whether the loss we suffer is a friend or season-flit
We find our hearts grow softer in the aftermath of it

Loss tends to make us more aware and thankful for Today
That ever- fleeting chariot that draws the years away
Filled with a holy hunger we can never quite appease
While petals fall from flowers like hours to memories

Loss tends to make us mindful of a deeper sense of Now
Its sorrow seems to kindle sweeter happiness somehow
As we learn to live slower and take time to take time in
Because Loss tends to tune us to the Farewell we are in

© Janet Martin

But as I mourn the end of another peony season I turn to
see that once again, the lily-lanterns are lit...


Loss tends to make us bend a little closer to the bloom...



The grass withers, the flower fades, 
But the word of our God stands forever.”
Isa.40:8

Saturday, June 12, 2021

Poem-Thunder


On a picture-perfect June Saturday with lots to do
poetry thunders!
💗

A poem, is like a bouquet
Of peonies, soft pink...



Like bud that pulses, pops and spills
In green leaf canopy...



A poem is more than mere verse
More than meter and rhyme
It wrangles feelings into words
Melds common with sublime

It gathers moments that would fade
Without a second thought
Snared from seasons as they parade
Through graces, soon forgot

A poem takes us by the hand,
Nay, tugs at inner strings
Its truth, beauty and love withstands
The ever-change time brings

It courses through the utmost part
Of hearts; steeds, hunger-shod
Always showcasing, with word-art
The majesty of God

It preaches, teaches, reaches where
No naked eye can see
To storm Soul’s sacred thoroughfare
Hinged to eternity

A poem, from life’s ugliness
Of thorns that pierce and prick
Points out the blood-red loveliness
Of Hope’s rose-kindled wick

A poem thunders without sound
Through wonder's speechless gaze
Where wonder is the holy ground
Of worship's flawless praise

A poem, is like a bouquet
Of peonies, soft pink
It cheers a dark and dreary day
With petals made of ink

A poem celebrates the thrills
That fill the earth with glee
Like bud that pulses, pops and spills
In green leaf canopy

Like innocence of little child
Pirates of stolen breath
Where joy and sorrow drive us wild
With birth’s promise of death

Where insecurity and fear
Could smother happiness
Where we are altogether here
By the Creator’s ‘yes

Where, now and then, lest we turn blind
To Hands, (not without scar)
A poem can gently remind
Us how precious we are

© Janet Martin


Because your steadfast love
is better than life,
my lips will praise you!

A few more June joy-praises...




Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Seasoned Promises...


 Don't you just LOVE the seasoned promises that pop in pink, plump peonies?!


Lord, give us eyes to see
Lest, sight-blind we forget
The Author of earth’s poetry
Is ever with us yet

This world of want and woe
Would weigh us with despair
But your kind grace whereby we go
Strews glimpses everywhere

Then, in this human race
As we press to yon Bar
Lord, give us eyes to see Your grace
Exactly where we are

…and fill our hearts with praise
And humble happiness
You crown our hurt and hope-filled days
With seasoned promises

© Janet Martin

“Never again will I curse the ground because of man, 
even though every inclination of his heart is evil from his youth. 
And never again will I destroy all living creatures as I have done. 
As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, 
cold and heat, 
summer and winter, 
day and night 
shall never cease.” 
Gen.8:21-22