Thursday Thoughts~

 He walks on water...the Keeper of the storm

Even the wind and the waves obey Him

...how much more then, ought we?

It is only when we come to the end of ourselves

That God can begin…

For all the good it does not do

Sometimes she wonders

What might have been?

Salty tears

A great heart-cleanser

To love is not the same
as being 'in love'
 

Though duty may shorten its leash

It cannot keep the sun from smiling

Or nature from spilling its art

Through my window; nor can it quell

In the busyness of toil

The music of love in my heart

Come sunlight or shadow

Come high tide or low

God IS; ever changeless

Wherever we go

The Rock of Ages is Ageless

I cannot see the way ahead

Its portend or its girth

So I will put my faith instead

In God of Heaven and earth

He leads me

..Sometimes I am too stubborn to follow

He guides me

…sometimes I am too blinded by self to see

He loves me

…sometimes I forget just how much

Until I remember Calvary

Some friends flutter by

Like a butterfly

…and some are a fly in life’s butter

Some stick, not like honey in your hair

But closer than a brother

 Janet~

Thoughts Gleaned from a Dandelion Field

…on prayer

There is power in numbers

And power in prayer

Together they form

A gossamer stair

With angels descending

In legions sublime

More countless in number

Than seeds on the wind

…on attitude

Self-pity blights the single bloom

Compassion enriches eons

Its after-effects filling earth’s living-room

Like ocean’s of dandelions

…on planting

The bud, the bloom, and back to seed

So is this life in thought and deed

…on harvest

These are not solitary blooms, the deeds we do

Or moments to be taken for granted

But gifts to be cherished for some day we will view

The field that once we planted

They drift upon the winds that play

...the kind words you spoke

yesterday...

If we could count each dandelion seed

I wonder how many there'd be

No matter the number it would be nothing more

Than a wink in eternity...

© Janet Martin

For this reason we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away from it. Hebrews 2:1

Softly Touching Our Hands

Gold fingers reach from a cloak gently softening

Over serene valley, blue-brimming with mist

Into the meadow, where its humble offering

Is threaded with diamonds of dew-silver kiss

The brook winds its sash across spring's emerald garment

Through pastoral wood-lot and out to the sea

Forgotten ponds burst with songs of the season

Turquoise-jade patches on earth’s rugged knee

Gentle breeze rouses the bird from its slumber

Nature’s choristers fill somnolent space

As over the earth spreads a heavenly wonder

Of unmarred perfection; a new day of grace

Yester's red sun, as it slipped from our visage

Tugged with it the day, into history’s embrace

Now it rises again; yet is not encumbered

With past’s soiled attempts; but a new day of grace

And we turn to the Master-piece dazzling the acre

Where grace has allowed us a dot on time’s sands

Thankfulness rushes through our hearts like pure water

As a new day of mercy softly touches our hands

© Janet Martin

It is not difficult to see His beauty on a morning like this…

This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Ps. 118:24

Ah, Redemption

Ah, redemption

The athlete cries

As his feet cross over

The finish-line

Ah, redemption

The student cheers

As he waves his diploma

With joyous tears

Ah, redemption

The believer weeps

As he casts his crowns

At Jesus feet

© Janet Martin

"Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things.
Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an IMPERISHABLE CROWN. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air. But I discipline my body and bring it into subjection, lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified." (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

Of Most Loved Moments

…to languish in the magnificence of dust

where miracles leap from sources untouched

…to savor long the invisible bliss

of haunts revisited in thought’s tender kiss

…to bear the searing ecstasy and grief of love

because we can never have too much, or even enough

…to touch you, hold you, caress you because I cannot wait

and tomorrow holds no guarantees but one; it could be too late

J~

Awesome Acknowledgement

Oh God, who can paint on an infinite nothing?

Has ever a man brushed his thought on the air?

Who on this earth can arrange the vast heavens?

Or shift nebulosity with naught but a stare?

Who can design, from the seed its fulfillment?

Man can do nothing but what you allot

The fruit of the field, of forest and garden

Blooms by the measure of Creator’s thought

Who teaches the bud of flower to open?

Or tells the tree its season to leaf?

Has ever a man plucked the rain from the heavens?

Or ordered the wind’s velocity to cease?

How fearful the greatness of our dependence

But for a God who loves us so much

That not one pebble escapes His vigilance

Hope and forgiveness exudes every touch

…and He who arranges the colors of heaven

Or stuns man’s babble to quieted awe

Seeks ultimately, intimately, the best for His children

For in Heaven and earth there is none like God

© Janet Martin

No one is like you, O LORD; you are great, and your name is mighty in power. Jer. 10:6

We gathered there...some on the bluff, others down on the beach
each with our own version of  'watching the sun set...'

Of Blind Pursuit...

How vain the blind pursuit of man

How feeble is its cheer

How pithy the desires that span

This transient hemisphere

Of dust and lust, of sin and sod

If our trust is not in God

A little joy, a little grief

A little youthful glance

Each season of existence brief

We laugh, we weep and dance

But oh, what futile scope we plod

If our hope is not in God

Disappointment and delight

A gasp upon the air

A gathering of day and night

Of dreaming and despair

But oh, what purpose fills our thought

If we have put our faith in God

© Janet Martin

 He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet

 no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end;

I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.

Eccles. 3:11-12 

I Know...

I do not know…

before the sun

cajoles the western sky

what will befall,

but this I know

the Lord keeps you and I

I do not know 

what waits beyond

the dark and distant hill

but this I know

before me goes

a Father's perfect will

and this I know

the unknown waits

and I, a shell of dust

can simply place

my hand in His

and in His wisdom trust

© Janet Martin

Wordless Truths

 

You moved me with your pretty speech

It left me somewhat stirred

For there is much allurement

In the sentiment of word

But I am getting older

And the truth; I’m learning well

There is much more told in action

That word can never tell

© Janet Martin

Torrents from Above...

We offer you our mangled blooms

Of bent and broken stem

The remnant of vague promises

So common unto men

We lift, in blushing guilt and shame

Our stammered salutation

As we seek hope within the Name

Of mercy and compassion

We repeat our confessions

At the alter of His grace

Unworthy of the miracle

That flows to human race

For in return He gives to us

In torrents from above

For our debt His pardon

His forgiveness and His love

© Janet Martin

Of Mystery and Mornings...

The quiet leans in closely

As the early light expands

And navy yields to the caress

Of morning’s gentle hands

Angels in silken garments

Brush the line twixt dark and day

With effervescent whispers

They ease deeper shades away

Mystery treads the stillness

Of the unknown like a bloom

Starting to press the barriers

Of its darkened waiting room

We step onto the shoreline

Of a mighty river’s flow

As He who holds this day’s design

And gives the sun its glow…

…assures us in the solitude

Of grace that will not flea

And He knows every petal

That drifts into Time’s vast sea

The quiet leans in closely

As this hushed and sacred hour

Nudges from the bud unfolding

A new and perfect flower

© Janet Martin

Wait on the Lord and keep His way

And He shall exalt thee to inherit the land.

When the wicked are cut off thou shalt see it. Ps. 37:34

When Trying to Appease Wanderlust remember...

Way out there

On the other side

Of where earth and heaven meet

Is someone's

Ordinary day

On an ordinary street

Way out there

On that ethereal line

Where the sea touches the sky

Is another gulf

Of open space

Stretching to the by and by

Way out there

Where the timber-line

Bars the dreamers view

Another piece

Of land and sky

Exists- same green, same blue

© Janet Martin

Cherished Moments~

We know too well

What must be will be

So cherish each moment

Then set it free

Waste not and want not

Fulfillment is this

To cherish each moment

Of fleeting ‘what is’

We cannot reach

What was or will be

So cherish the moment

That rests on your knee

A life well-lived

Is done, not in years

But in cherishing moments

Before they disappear

Softly and tenderly

See how they slip

Sweet, cherished moment

From life’s fingertips

The thought of forever

I cannot grasp

So I’ll cherish each moment

Of you, in my clasp

© J~

A week ago the dandelion fields were a sea of gold...this week silver.

Spring-song

Speak to me in floral sonnets

Sing, oh joyous feathered throng

Nurture me with rippling oceans

Where the pasture leaps with song

Brush your lips across my temple

Zephyr who has known no care

Warm me, sun-beam, with your candor

Stir in me a summer-prayer

Wrap me in your emerald whisper

Cradle me in your embrace

Dance with me on God’s fresh garden

Metaphor of hope and grace

Pleasure me, jasmine and primrose

Starlight gleaming in the dirt

Kiss me, tender sanguine noon-tide

Banish from my thought life’s hurt

Soothe me, periwinkle twilight

Breathe your vesper on hushed sod

Springtime, nature’s quadrille-darling

Spring, a testament of God

© Janet Martin

Liebster Award

Thank-you Sara @ purpleinportland, for a nomination of the Liebster Award.(love the name...may I say Ich Liebe dich:) I am so happy to pass it on.

The award isn’t voted on by any kind of committee; instead, it is passed from one blogger to another, to recognize fellow bloggers...

 Now that you have been nominated it is your responsibility to:

1. link back to who nominated you
2. nominate five blogs with fewer than 200 follows (see below)
3. let nominees know by leaving a comment on their sites; and
4. add the award image to your site

Here are my nominations: To blogs I read and writer's I so appreciate and admire...

Inspirational Daily


In The Corner of my Eye

Metaphors and Smiles 

The Happy Amateur 

Vanyieck's Last Stand

Universal Plea...

Love me…not for who you wish that I would be

But love me because it is enough that I am me

Love me…not because of some grand and virtuous deed

But because love is within us, a never-ending need

Love me…just as I am without criticism or complaint

But simply because I am me, love without restraint

Love me…not for what you hope is yet to be

But simply in this moment, because you are you and I am me

Love me…in spite of everything that I am not

Love me, not in forced action but in the out-pouring of thought

Love me…not for who you wish that I would be

But just because you are you and I am me

© Janet Martin

No Condemnation

Failure with cold, heartless judgments

Raises an angry fist

Its sentence of horror is certain

With my name at the top of the list

For beneath every accusation

Is written a verdict of guilt

But hark; there is no condemnation

For those washed in Holy Blood spilt

Grace…what a blessed assurance

I cannot fathom its breadth

Without it my feeble endurance

Would daily be swallowed in death

Failure with all of its judgment

Would haunt in demonic flood

But God who is rich in mercy

Has banished my guilt with His blood

Often I falter and stumble

But He who has pardoned my sin

Will never leave or forsake me

And thus His peace whispers within

For there is no condemnation

To those who are saved by His grace

Who will reject such salvation

Or shun redemption’s embrace?

Failure with all of its judgment

Raises an angry fist

Justice pronounces its sentence

But hark; what message is this?

There is therefore no condemnation

To those who are in Christ

My heart over-flows with thanksgiving

For love’s redeeming sacrifice

© Janet Martin

Romans 8:1

Love...

Image Source: turnbacktogod.com
 

Love…such a heavy load to carry

We should give it away

Love…a pair of well-worn shoes

Because second miles can be unpredictably long

Love…a beautiful picture

But so unlike anything we visualized

Love…we give it as a gift

And never remind the recipient of the cost

Love…refined by fire

Treasure the melting-pot

Love…a race with no finish-line

Quitting is not an option

Love…never a weapon to inflict pain

But a faithful shield

Love…patient and kind

A glimpse of God revealed

© Janet Martin

Love: 1Cor. 13

Authentic Belief

When morning nudges through the dark

To break on virgin shores

May I resolve to trust in God

And ask for nothing more

Then as the new day rises up

To test the thoughts I pray

May His love be my true response

And not just words I say

When sunlight melts in golden bars

Through every shutter-crease

May His soft whisper stir my heart

And fill the day with peace

© Janet Martin

The kids laughed and asked if I rhymed on purpose...'what do you mean? I asked as I said amen,...oh, you rhymed when you finished the prayer with 'may you truly be our Guide today and not just empty words we say'I laughed, 'no, I did not realize that it rhymed'...and out the door they went to school while Mother prayed that oh, somewhere through-out the day they would remember.

Gain

When the blanks that we call ‘tomorrow’

Have been filled in with the past

When its allotment of joy and sorrow

Are nothing but dim shadows cast

When wisdom has offered her virtue

And proven in us who we were

…a student of world-class knowledge

Or a scholar bound for higher shores

…when the temporal treasure we gather

Returns to its birthplace of dust

Because nothing in this world is worthy

To be transported with us

When we exhale our parting

And exit this transient plain

Will we know that we are not dying

As Heaven becomes our gain?

© Janet Martin

Spring Symphony

Allegro of sunbeam dapples the slope

Where winter has gentled its stance

The gale now softens her harsh calliope

As nature responds to its glance

Warm, eager fingertips strum rigid spires

Rousing the bud from its sleep

As umber fallow surges with desire

Embraced in a dark, restless deep

Subtle adagio breathes on the sod

Earth trembles as its naked shell

Responds to the Maestro, Creator, God

For no man His music can quell

And into the crypt of buried decay

Heaven’s wondrous melody seeps

As from entombed chambers of yesterday

Resurrected choruses leap

Pure intonations of violet and gold

Of periwinkle, magenta, blue

Rippling with passionate abandon bold

Across earth’s dormant avenue

Emerald rhapsody covers the hills

Woodland and meadow reply

Sweeping the landscape its harmony thrills

Humble, dust-formed passers-by

© Janet Martin

It seems as if, over-night the landscape has erupted into exotic bloom. 

The NAANI

Poetic Bloomings invites us to try writing a NAANI

The NAANI is one of India’s most popular Telugu forms,  Naani means “expression of one and all.”  It consists of 4 lines, totalling 20 to 25 syllables. It is generally untitled, although the subject may be inferred in the first line. The poem is not bound to a particular subject, but is often about human relations. The form was introduced by one of the renowned Telugu poets, Dr. N. Gopi.

 

While I tally

My scores of failure

She climbs into my arms

Hugs me and falls asleep

***

The television does not

Drown out the silence

Yet, newspaper walls

Can be impenetrable

***

Yesterday, today, forever

He IS, the only Way,

The only Truth

And Door to eternal life

***

Darkness thickens stealthily

In countless layers

But one tiny flame

Dispels its utter blackness

Janet~

Of Hidden Tempests...

Clark Little Photography...

Against the shoreline of my thought

Your ceaseless whispers swell

No pious benediction

Will its timeless surging quell

Well-rehearsed intonation

Melts unnoticed on the hour

But raw untried emotion

Clutches me within its power

The ebb and flow of moments

Tunes the timbre of a sea

Surging in a mammoth ocean

Somewhere deep inside of me…

J~

Mountain-climbing

To reach the top

We are guaranteed

Darling, I know if we keep climbing

To give up or to stop

To release you

It never was my intention

I struggle upward and pray

From vows of my youth

Dangling precariously

While moments slip away

Gripping the truth

I cling tenaciously

So when it comes to us

Love weathers all weather

And when it comes to the heart

When it comes to love

Than to be apart together

I prefer to be together apart

Not compelling resistance

I release the hour

That is the way of love

Without creating distance

Expanding history

Moments push between us

© J~

Hello down here…are you confused? Congratulations! You just read this poem backwards…we are mountain-climbing so we must begin at the bottom(as with all things in life:) and work our way up! I felt like having a little fun:)

No Wasted Days

As long as love

Fills the heart

There will be no empty days

As long smiles

Adorn our mouths

There will be no darkest days

As long as duty

And desire blend

There will be no futile days

As long as you

Remain my friend

There will be no wasted days

Janet~

Pour Me Another...

The poetic notion of over and done

For me, has ceased to exist

The aching essence of love lingers on

Like the afterglow of a kiss

Memory is like vintage wine

We savor its warmth on our lips

Today’s moments are fruit on a vine

Tomorrow its harvest we sip

 I hold the aura of you on my tongue

Its ambiance soothing my thought

Forever old or forever young

To me it matters not

For the poetic notion of over and done

Is for moments, not memories

Pour me another; love lingers on

In moments such as these

The fingers of time run over my skin

Darling, what must will be

Time cannot touch moments sealed within

The vault of memory

J~

In Poetry

Because I am a lover of simple things

I find great allure in the translucent strings

On which a tender thought is hung

And thus, a legacy is strung

In poetry

Because I am a lover of simple things

I am content as the robin sings

And the green unfurls on distant slope

And suddenly the world is a beacon of hope

In poetry

Because I am a lover of simple things

I love the pleasure too lowly for kings

As I pause in a meadow of ten-thousand suns

Lifting their exuberance to everyone

In poetry

Because I am a lover of simple things

The music of heaven unceasingly rings

In a calliope of present then past

As I hold the treasure of a memory fast

In poetry

Because I am a lover of simple things
I thank God daily for the mercy He flings
In nameless moments of intangible verse
...of hope and love as thoughts immerse
In poetry

© Janet Martin

Mother's Day Thoughts...

Oh, that my life would be

A humble, loving legacy

When time and life have slipped from me

…their Mother

What will my children say

On some distant Mother’s Day

As they recall their childhood play

…and Mother?

Will the unyielding sod

Not quell the path I trod

Because they learned of God

…from Mother?

And will my memory

Somehow thread tenderly

Through generations still to be

…of a godly Mother?

Oh, that my life would be

A humble, loving legacy

When time and life have slipped from me

…their Mother

© Janet Martin

Yesterday morning at church an elderly gentleman shared memories of his mother, long gone and suddenly I wondered what my kids memories will be when they are asked to share something about their mother...

They do not know

as I draw them to me

of the tug-of-war beauty

surging in me

and they do not know

that I fight back aching tears

realizing suddenly

how the thief of years

snatches vapor-moments

from longing fingertips

turning wee girls to women

as time ceaselessly slips

from the before to the after

covering the ground

with the joy of love's laughter

and the tender-sweet sound 

when the night is quiet

on the mist-tinted air

...I hear a song hovering

of a rocking chair

As I held wisps of heaven

in the dark, stilly-deep

While rocking and humming

my babies to sleep...

 

Chosen Generation

We are not just ‘playing house’

As we toil and plant earth’s sod

But we are treading moments

On a stairway up to God

We are not just biding time

Twixt rise and set of sun

But we will give account to Him

For every deed we’ve done

We are not flesh shadows

Skimming time’s brief, pallid glance

Nor drifting flukes of nature

Victim’s of circumstance

But we are precious creatures

Born with a living soul

For whom our pure Creator died

So that we may be whole

And we are born with purpose

Not meaningless off-spring

In a field of dandelions

We are children of a King

...born in His wondrous image

Knit together by the touch

Of a tender heavenly Father

Who loves us very much

© Janet Martin

 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. Gen. 1:27

 

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. 1 Peter 2:9

For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. ^{John 3:16-17}

Glorious and Free

Some week-end frames of 'God's country...'

God's country; is what my daddy called it

As rolling hills in a country-drive slideshow

Moved across the screen

Of the station-wagon window

…this panorama of meadow-rich green

Creased by woodlands and marshes

The meandering stream

Rolling to the big blue sea

This is surely what God’s country must be

And the farmer’s eyes roved the blazing west

Imbuing his soul with renewed hope and zest

For surely the one who painted our rural plot of sky

In a whispered masterpiece

Would provide the needs for he and I

His mercy would not cease

Ah, in this we found peace

So, the farmer whistled with a spring in his step

And the corn fields rustled beneath twilight’s fingertips

…and the little girl stood proud beneath red and white

And sang ‘Oh Canada’ with all her might because Daddy was right

‘Oh Canada' included the little thumbprint of Southern Ontario

Where apple orchards bend and bronze wheat fields glow

And where the Great Lakes, in turquoise gems

Gleam, a grand and glorious diadem

Crowning God’s country;

This 'true north strong and free, of timber and loam

Will forever be my home sweet home

© Janet Martin

 Poetic Bloomings asks us to share a piece of where we call home!

A Mother's Thoughts

Dear God you’ve seen fit

To grace me with the good

and beautiful gift

Of motherhood

Let me never squander

Love’s whispers of gold

But cherish with wonder

This treasure I hold

…in a name more lovely (and daunting)

than any other

As children look to me

And call me

Mother 

Janet~

Mother's Hands ...A re-post

Not because of gold or silver
Not because of jeweled bands
Not because they’re soft and perfect
Do I love my mother’s hands
But because these hands once held me
Tenderly close to her breast
And because these hands would point me
To the path she knew was best

Mother’s hands so gladly labored
Mother’s hands so seldom still
Never seeking her own favor
Giving always her free will
But the thing of greatest beauty
As she tended to each care
Was her source of strength for duty
Mother’s hands were hands of prayer

Mother’s hands would clap to praise me
For a good deed I had done
Mother’s hands were there to save me
When my deeds had hurt someone
And my mother’s hands would teach me
What is right and what is good
Mother’s hands would always reach me
When no other hand e’er could

Mother’s hands so full of power
When her load was hard to bear
Even in life’s darkest hour
Mother’s hands would fold in prayer
Oh, no matter where I travel
Or how great the sights or grand
There is none to make me marvel
Like my mother’s praying hands

Praying hands can reach her children
When they’ve gone so far away
Mother knows that God will reach them
As she folds her hands to pray
Gracious Father, up in Heaven
Bless each mother everywhere
In each country, tribe or nation
Bless the hands, the hands of prayer

Janet~