How Wonderful the Ways of Ink

2025 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 2

For the 2025 November PAD Chapbook Challenge,

 poets write a poem a day in the month of November. 

Day 2 is to write a fun poem.

2025 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Day 3

For the 2025 November PAD Chapbook Challenge, 

poets write a poem a day in the month of November. 

Day 3 is to write a how blank poem.

behold the rolling sea unfurled

upon a barren page...

how wonderful the ways of ink

as swirls upon a stage

of parchment, paint a blossom pink

Or, spill a canon, sage

how endless are the avenues

and trails that ink-blades blaze

through wilds borne from font-curlicues 

centuries cannot faze

behold the rolling sea unfurled

upon a barren page

or, ink-frigates that sail the world

 while blizzards brawl and rage 

how holy are the howls of ink

unveiled for all to see

far able to eclipse the wink

of mere mortality

how wonderful, how terrible

the ways of ink reveal

the broken, yet invincible

beauty of love's appeal 

how wildly ink attempts to snare

Thought's beast and set it free

upon a stage of parchment where

 a poem waits to be  

how wonderful the ways of ink

how strangely 'fun', the verge

of waiting on a poem's brink

to see what will emerge 

Janet Martin

how wonderful the ways of ink

as swirls upon a stage

of parchment, paint a blossom pink

Or, spill a canon, sage

Don't Judge a Book By The Cover

 Everywhere we turn we see a library of humanity!

Behind the whole of human race

The smiling or the somber face

The eyes we meet in passing, oh

Behind each silence or hello

A story of a life unfolds

…behind facades our gaze beholds

Ink-drops of love, of loss and gain

Of want and need, pleasure and pain

Of holding on and letting go

Shimmers of a life story, so

…because we do not know in full

The details of love’s push and pull

The landscape of life’s ups and downs

That turns the face to smiles or frowns

Because we cannot see the part

…that cradles dreams, or breaks the heart

That fuels gladness or despair

The pressing paragraphs of care/prayer

Should we not be much kinder then

To a world full of fellowmen?

…and season each response with grace

For what we see upon the face

Does not reveal the no or yes

That authors ruin or success

Where we all share the common ground

…of hope, of Something lost or found

Of longings that have not been met

Held in the brooding bay of ‘yet’

In stories of ink not yet dry

In so much more than meets the eye

Tall, short, rich, poor, plump or petite

Each bears a book that does not meet

The eye; where fingers cannot trace 

The lines that bridle human race

Into a kind of library

...penned by the likes of you and me

With no two stories quite the same

However great or small its fame

Where behind every face we meet 

Unfolds a story, bittersweet 

© Janet Martin

2 Cor.5:10

For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, 

so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done 

while in the body, whether good or bad.

Rev.20:11-13

Then I saw a great white throne and the One seated on it.

Earth and heaven fled from His presence, and no place was found for them.

12And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne.

And there were open books,

and one of them was the Book of Life.

And the dead were judged according to their deeds, as recorded in the books.

13The sea gave up its dead,

and Death and Hades gave up their dead,

and each one was judged according to his deeds.

A Little Ink Reminder...

Life/love is poetry

waiting to be written...

Some days poem-possibility is like fruit, ripe for harvest and preserving,

...other days require (soul)-searching!

Ps.139:23-24

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
Try me, and know my anxieties;
And see if there is any wicked way in me,
And lead me in the way everlasting.

...but every poet does well to remember Who bestows the ink

then, to be diligent and conscientious in our reply!

***

The troubles of this world could drain the poet’s pen of verse

Its weight of care could crush the lyric-spring within the heart

But what doth it profit a man to clench a fist and curse

When all it takes is each of us to do our willing part

To make this world a kinder place for our fellowman

To help each other weather trouble’s trouble while we can

The poet’s charge is more than ink-caper to paper pressed

But rather, an attempt to keep us wonderfully awed

A page can capture beauty, like a cloud by pink caressed

To replay when the day grows dark and we start to doubt God

Poetry preserves pictures long after seasons have set

So we remember tinctures we might otherwise forget

…the laughter after it has passed, the once-upon-childhood

Before the way time flies teaches the fledgling how to fly

It gentles bitter aftermath of love misunderstood

As the whisper of God compels the poet to reply

And rally us to be more humbly glad for me-‘n-you

Remembering who we will answer to when life is through

The trouble of this world will always be; the poet knows

The pen is mightier than sword; font is a holy thing

For the sacred longevity of written word bestows

Accountability for all touched by its rendering

Thus, before thought entrusts its erring tendencies to ink

The poet ought to ask the Author of Love how to think

The troubles of this world could drain the poet’s pen of rhyme

Its weight of care could crush the raring rush to write and write

Without the One whose replenishes joy, time after time

And overflows the wellspring of the heart with sheer delight

To share without exception, every hymn that frets to spill

And follow the direction of the Hand that lets the quill

...where the trouble that groans is never greater than His grace

Though pleasure/measure of a poem cannot erase creature-care

Like a soft kiss upon the cheek, a handshake or embrace

A poem can kindle a smile, a tear, a song, a prayer

To cheer each other on with kindness and humility

A little ink-reminder of God, spilled in poetry  

© Janet Martin

Happy September Saturday!

Rekindled Delight

 

Across a landscape ethereal

And not yet tamed by time

To journeymen of syllable

Unfurls a world of rhyme

And stars that poets climb

Sometimes knowledge alone is cursed

And deaf to the wild sound

That plagues the lowly bard with thirst

For wisdom not yet found

And lyrics still unbound

How ephemeral is the gate

That swings softly ajar

To usher through glimmers that bait

Poems that not yet are

Save in one fallen star

…snared on a shimmer of surprise

To thwart the stinging bite

Of words cut down to arrow size

To spur the songsters flight

In rekindled delight

The bull's eye of a poet's heart

Weathers many-a-test

Long suffering is worth the art 

And hunger worth the quest

Of sorrow at its best

© Janet Martin

For Fence-Crowders

I'm trying to keep 'my eye on the furrow 

and my hand on the plow'

but wow, not an easy task 

while poem-breakers surge 

 where leaf ballerinas twirl 

and wanna-be-ballads waltz !

Sometimes duty feels like a fence

Where obligation bars

The gate between toil's diligence

And pastures full of stars

Sometimes responsibility

And ballad-bearers clash

As seasons throb with poetry

Where hands of time are brash

But in a world so full of ways

To amaze and enthrall

It is enough to sing the praise

Of He who authors all

And should a breath or two perchance

Be wrangled into word

Pray it will stir the heart to dance

In worship to our Lord

Then, though duty does not resign

Where obligation bars

The gate, may thankfulness outshine

Yon pasture full of stars

Because the One so full of love

Where hope and mercy brim

Will overflow joy's treasure-trove

With the wonder of Him

© Janet Martin

Isa.25:1

O LORD, You are my God. I will exalt You,

 I will praise Your name,

 For You have done wonderful things;

 Your counsels of old are faithfulness and truth.

How Great Thou Art

Ink-Smiths

 

Yesterday's chores included reorganizing and tidying book nooks!

Oh joy! Why?

I made room for more😅

The ink-memento below was forged from the poet's perspective

With ink they praise

With ink they weep

With ink they groan and grin

And purge with phrase

What cannot sleep

Beneath a shroud of skin

With ink they love

With ink they thrill

With ink they try and try

To snare glints of

An escadrille

That marches through a sigh

With ink they pray

And beg and brood

Where heartache’s millstones press

The gold and gray

Of gratitude

Into scarred happiness

With ink they cry

With ink they smile

While forging cons with prose

To pacify

And reconcile

The thorns beneath the rose

With ink they wield

Thoughts tools of trade

Where parchment anvils bear

 Whispers soft-steeled

Against the blade

That fells fields of thin air 

  

© Janet Martin

Poem-tation

pōəm -ˈtāSH(ə)n/ Definition: Temptation to compose poem😉😊😍

Watching Tot chase bubbles reminded me a bit

of Poet chasing Poem...

The art of poem-tation seeps through every shade of sky

It vexes concentration in each leaf that flutters by

Four seasons worth of beauty with life’s troubles juxtapose

To cheer the thorns of duty with an unrelenting rose

The tug of poem-tation surges from dawn’s teeming brink

The clockwork of creation hoists premieres streaming with ink

Disparity twixt hand and heart, resumes its rivalry

Where charity pursues the part that authors poetry

The joy of poem-tation reels beneath the wheels of grief

A constant invitation to pursue hues veiled beneath

What meets the eye to stoke the sky and tint the glint of blooms

Soon lowered like a lullaby to stubble-stippled tombs

The wink of poem-tation is both flirtatious and grim

The fruit of inspiration bends the lyric-laden limb

Where words threaded together should do more than lilt and rhyme

Ah, pray they cheer and help us weather ups and downs of Time

The dust of poem-tation is stirred by a breath of breeze

That sparks a celebration shimmering in poplar trees

Rousing the strange impression of a river rushing where

Time’s four-season succession flows through shores of leaf and air

The prize of poem-tation dangles like a pendulum

Hope’s eager expectation wonders if the words will come

How cautiously Want clutches at inklings that start to drop

Lest, as soon as Thought touches it, like bubbles…

Poem

Goes 

‘Pop’

© Janet Martin

Soon lowered like a lullaby to stubble-stippled tombs...

Courage, With Joy

Below is a message from my friend Jane, sent to me years ago

after I confessed how terribly terrified I am to share the poetry publicly...

I printed and scotch-taped her reminder beside my computer screen

and it has been a powerful reminder more times than I can count...

Because of the prolific nature of this 'poem-porch' 

one might assume it's easy to hit 'publish' and bare heart-pieces to the world. 

But if it were possible to pull apart the place where feelings lie you would see

so much would-be insecurity, timidity and fear! 

However, whatever our creative outlet is, 

we only ever create with what God first has created. 

We are like children playing with His crayons 

and thereby we create 

and owe God an answer when He asks,

'What are you going to do with it?'

The most terrifying, exhilarating thing we will ever do

is to 'let go and let God!'

My friends host our church's podcast for women.

 Another friend is the guest on the latest episode 8.

I was so touched by her reminder that,

'as we are aware that we create with what He gives

creativity becomes a source and form of constant worship'

Yes, and

 This worship helps to fill life with constant joy!

George Macdonald wrote over a hundred years ago

"A poet is a man who is glad of something and

tries to make other people glad of it too"

That quote is still as true as ever

and reveals why an artist has the courage, with joy,

to share what they/we have created...

...to recognize with holy awe that all we are and touch

Is created and granted by He who loves us so much

We are so very diff'rent, yet still so very 'the same'

Created in His image to bring glory to His name

How loud doubt's voice would shout with fearful insecurity

Without His still small voice that whispers 'just do it for Me'

Then suddenly dark demons flee and joy transforms despair

As we honour His majesty with talents He put there 

Forbid, when face to face we give account for what we did

That pride or doubt or lack of faith kept our talents hid

Or that Comparison, (the deadliest kill-joy of all)

Would have succeeded in making us ashamed of His Call

So pray for courage to proceed with joy to glorify

The Giver with the gift that He has given you and I

Then, as we hold the crayons, may we be filled with sheer awe 

To feel His Hand over our fingers, teaching us to draw

Janet Martin

Let's all seek to bless others by glorifying the Giver

with our gift/s.

This poem could also be called

Why my to-do list grows longer and longer

because in the middle of Very Busy...a poem might nudge😊

The Poet's Plight-Fight-Fright-Rite/Write

I cringe beneath the critic's eye

Yet crave honest un-flattery

Lest I should run ink-rivers dry

With shadows of half-poetry

I blush to feel them crush the page

Splattered with pieces of my heart

While learning to embrace the wage

As rejection finetunes the art

I laugh and weep, am lost, then found

Drawn from despair's unholy brink

Toward the Holy Parchment Ground

Of a blank page begging for ink

Janet Martin

You Will Forget Me (when I'm gone)

PAD Challenge21: Here is Robert Lee Brewer's Prompt for Today

For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Me," 

replace the blank with a word or phrase, 

make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. 

Possible titles include: "Tell Me," "Forgive Me," and/or "You've Got to Believe Me." 

Of course, feel free to bend the rules 

and have a title like "Home Sweet Ho(me)" or "Pick a The(me)."

Okay, so I acknowledge,

my homespun scribblings will never grace the Literary World's Center Stage,

but it's still important to remember,

'that fields of ink may live from age to age'

These volumes below are living proof !

 

These few pages above are just a glimpse of 

this volume packed with ancient masterpieces,

as powerful/relevant today as the day they were penned!

My name will fade from thoughts and lips when I am dead and gone

The echo-world of 'us' will slip as Time’s Corp marches on

The bulk of my possessions and the things that I held dear

Will pass through hands; for we are all just brief sojourners here

All bound to be forgot, as generations disappear

Thus, here’s to poetry; its sea of passion undeterred

For though the poet may be gone, long lives the written word

The hand that held the pen, long after it returns to dust

May cheer some future fellowman, may buoy failing trust

May remind him or her though we are centuries apart

Time never really could deter the matters of the heart

Where love is our utter need and longing is its dart

Then write, dear poet, write; but bear in mind the grit of ink

Though we are gone a poem might live longer than we think

My name will fade like morning mist beneath the glaring sun

Soon all the faces that I kissed will to death’s tryst succumb

Who knows who waits to turn the leaves of Poet’s printed jot

What thread of influence will weave through some far future thought

Or who will glean the remnant sheaves of harvests, long forgot

Therefore, dear poet, as we plant the pastures of the page

Let’s not forget that fields of ink may live from age to age

© Janet Martin

Get In The Habit of Writing Your Own Headlines

PAD Challenge day 10:For today's prompt, take the phrase "Get (blank),"

replace the blank with a word or phrase,

make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

It’s not the media that writes the headlines of our lives

We are the ink of love’s insights; of joy which hope derives

We choose between fear’s torment or the strength of a wise word

We make the most or least of moments pouring undeterred

It’s not the world that works its wonders in the human heart

But grace and courtesy unfurled in priceless works of art

We are the hands and feet that author change we want to see

Of helping one another, of love’s vows kept faithfully

It’s not the headlines that dictate our state of happiness

We are the writers that create ‘Front Page-worthy Kindness’

It’s not the media that writes the way that we reply

To high and lows of love and life; oh no, it’s you and I

It all comes down to this; whether we are thankful or not

Whether we let the tether of fear commandeer our thought

Whether we hold accountable the person in the mirror

To write the kind of article that others want to hear 

History in the making grants a very sacred gift

The honour of partaking in moments soon set adrift

Pray when Day's Dust of Duty strews its aftermath, we find

Headlines that tell of Beauty of True Love For Humankind 

© Janet Martin

A few of yesterday's headlines in my world include;

Grandchildren Help Gramma Clean Up Yard...

Gramma Teaches Tots How To Make Indoor Smores...

Anonymous Angels Who Nominated Unsuspecting Recipients,

 And Hardworking Local Florist (credit posted on FB only for privacy protection)

 Work Together To Create Happiness For Forty Surprised Flower-bouquet Receivers!!

(I was beautifully blessed to be at the receiving end!)

This post shared by a friend on Facebook inspired the above poem...

What Pity is a Bitty Ditty Then or (A Peek Inside Poetic Passion)

Often I'm a little super awkward and tongue-tied

when someone compliments and expresses appreciation for

the poetry here. 

Often  the embarrassed thank-you or the stutter

does not reflect the appreciation for the kind words of encouragement.

But I want to say a sincere thank-you/welcome! to visitors from

all over the globe who stop by this little poem-porch

whether for the photos,

 the blurb before the poem,

( some not-so-much-poetry-lovers have admitted

is why they enjoy dropping by) 

or the poem

Also, I want to attempt to give you a bit of a glimpse into the reason

I pursue passionately the potential of ink!

This blog is the offspring of prayer.

I pray about the poem,

the scripture, the picture.

I pray for and to God

be the glory!

And I pray for you!

That you are encouraged, blessed and challenged!

So to all who have suffered my fumbled responses,

there is an ocean of emotion behind

 each very heart-full

thank-you!!

This is the view from my porch this morning;

Quite a white awakening!

Far deeper than the pleasure of the poem 

The poet appraises the flight of ink 

The essence of a butterfly, a storm 

More than a tug on ties of Feel and Think 

Far broader than the page a poem ought 

To span. For man is merchant of the mind 

And heart. The war twixt emotion and thought 

Is like summer and winter intertwined 

Far weightier than pen, the parchment’s toll 

From belfries, paper thin and commonplace 

To influence the sacred crux of Soul 

With more than a half-smile upon the face 

Far mightier than sword is the effect 

Of written word. Far deeper than the thrill 

When inklings and emotions rush unchecked 

By the invasion of the poet’s quill 

What pity is a bitty ditty then 

If ink is but an entertaining nod 

If wonder is the plunder of a pen 

Rather than an awakening to God 

© Janet Martin 

1 Cor.10:31

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, 

do it all for the glory of God.

The Poet/Poem's Charge

An unexpected day off means unexpected extra-poem time! 

Between more mundane mandates, of course 😀

But writing poetry is far more than easy, breezy rhyme time!!

The poet’s task 

Pours from a flask 

That holds a large 

Charter of Trust 

Thus, if we drink 

This sacred ink 

We bear a charge 

Most serious 

For poetry 

It seems to me 

Is more than mere 

Rhythm and rhyme 

It is the ilk 

Of malt and milk 

Poured through the sphere 

Of thought and time 

…for beck and call 

Of madrigal 

is more than paint 

With verbal laud 

A poem is 

A kind of kiss 

To reacquaint 

The heart with God 

© Janet Martin 

Colossians 3:17 - 

And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, [do] 

all in the name of the Lord Jesus, 

giving thanks to God and the Father by him.

1 Corinthians 10:31 - 

Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, 

do all to the glory of God.

Titus 2:7 - 

In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works: 

in doctrine [shewing] uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity,

What The Lord Has Done In Me

love this song and this version!

The Sound of Seas

Don’t scoff
And write me off just yet
As some rhyme-hyped-up maniac
I can’t explain
The need to rein
In, into ink life’s bric-a-brac
Of highs and lows
Wide smiles, oh-no’s
Good-byes, hellos,
Oh mercy me
This life, it seems
Runs rife with streams
Gleaming with would-be poetry
Don’t ask
And judge my ‘task’ at hand
While standing in your
Gifted Skin... 

I cannot ease
Or fully appease
The Sound of Seas
That roars within 

...But by the grace

That grants our days

I'll endeavor to

Taste and see

The goodness of

Mercy and love

And capture it in poetry

© Janet Martin

 

and because of these 'seas' my floor is STILL unmopped!! lol

. I WILL do it now she said,

I will. 

I will!

(while a would-be poem wriggles in her head)