We Pass This Way but Once

 ( I do not know the author of the above quote, but I like it)

Poetic Bloomings indulges The Sonnet today.

We pass this way but once, no trial run

Time is a live-and-learning entity

It doles in moments its shadow and sun

While we accept that what must be will be

Do moments spiral; do they drip or glide?

Where is the fount of Time’s ceaseless discourse?

Without consent we join its forward-slide

Age keens the senses to its soundless force

Intangible, its urgent undertow

Stirs apathy to sudden consciousness

Of moment-dispensation’s virgin flow

Into the grasp of human wantonness

We pass this way but once and we must choose

The handling of pure moments; use, abuse

© Janet Martin

One Certainty Abides...

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt The Sonnet.


The SONNET is a poem, properly expressive of a single, complete thought, idea, or sentiment. It consists of 14 lines, usually in iambic pentameter, with rhymes arranged according to one of certain definite schemes. In the strict or Italian form it is divided into a major group of 8 lines (the octave) followed by a minor group of 6 lines (the sestet). An a-b-b-a, a-b-b-a pattern became the standard for Italian sonnets. For the sestet there were two different possibilities: c-d-e-c-d-e and c-d-c-c-d-c. In time, other variants on this rhyming scheme were introduced, such as c-d-c-d-c-d.
The English form break the poem into 3 quatrains followed by a couplet. Each line containing ten syllables and written in iambic pentameter, in which a pattern of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable is repeated five times. The rhyme scheme in a Shakespearean (English) sonnet is a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g; the last two lines are a rhyming couplet. Alternate Rhyme Scheme: a-a-b-b, c-c-d-d, e-e-f-f, g-g

Future does not conform to fantasy

We cannot glimpse the portend of its will

Nor does it murmur hints of good or ill

We press in moments to its mystery

Desires of the heart will ebb and flow

And fickle are the wishes of our want

The past seeks to remind, to teach or haunt

The wise man learns to learn then let it go

One knows our future’s intricate design

While we were still a whisper in the womb

He shaped the numbered days of our bloom

Into His perfect will our wills resign

One certainty abides in our defense

From seeds of choice we reap its consequence

© Janet Martin

Of Grace, Hope and Truth

God’s truth is not annulled though centuries

Of sun and rain, of toil and spoil pass by

Though mortal passions rise; like summer’s breeze

Soon they are gone; to sleep beneath earth’s sky

An acorn struggles to its pinnacle

Time is the master of its little jot

The mighty oak tree, nature’s miracle

Crumbles to dust again and all is naught

But heaven’s truth; eternal and secure

Though generations pass; it shall endure

***

What is man’s hope beyond earth’s sullen grave?

What is the measure of moments that slip?

Earth’s transient gold and silver cannot save

Their worth is but a crumb upon the lip

God is not mocked; what He has said will be

And demons tremble at His Holiness

His sacred passion spans eternity

A fool despises Truth and Righteousness

His grace abides; we hope beyond life’s loss

Time cannot void the power of the Cross

***

Did heaven’s Darling die to save but few?

What is the hope sustaining mortal breath?

I could not breathe one joy, but for this Truth

His Grace will be enough in life and death

Failure would be man’s single Surety

But for a perfect Lamb to satisfy

The Love of He who died to set us free

And there are none who do not qualify

He died for sinners; sinners all are we

Time does not change this Truth that sets us free

***

His love is not a ball-and-chain duress

He does not bind us; no one is His slave

But servants we, in humble gratefulness

Choose to believe; His blood alone can save

Us from eternal hell; our just reward

But Perfect love beheld our hopeless dread

In Love’s compassion Jesus Christ the Lord

Offered Himself to die in our stead

In Him alone we know that we can face

Both life and death; for we are saved by grace

***

Eternity; a vast uncharted sea

Not marked by moments or hours or years

A day, a thousand years; how can it be

That they are equal where Time disappears?

This life is but a vapor on the wind

Soon we will bow the knee before His throne

As every earthly boast is left behind

Each man will meet his Maker one on one

And only we will answer for our Choice

Did we say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to Heaven’s Voice?

***

Three-score-years and ten or perhaps four

This is the span of man’s mortality

Dare we to turn our backs; coldly ignore

The Voice of He who died to set us free?

The fool says in His heart ‘there is no God’

Pity the one who chooses evil’s lie

Though ‘dust to dust’ claims flesh back to the sod

The soul within will not and cannot die

To all who accept His truth and believe

To them, eternal life they shall receive

***

Will we spurn hope’s lone Truth; challenge or laugh

At Love; and coldly spit against His face?

While mercy’s offering pleads on our behalf

And Love expands Time’s gasp and thus His grace

Will we in blind indifference ignore

The Call of He who paid our debt of guilt?

Will we despise His knocking on our door

And seal our fate; regardless of Blood spilt?

Oh, who can bear His Wrath when grace shall cease?

Or who can fathom Heaven’s sweet release?

 © Janet Martin

Little Boy

'There's no such thing as a bad boy' (Father Flanagan in Boy's Town)

We love you so

The freckle-nose

The mischief, spontaneity

The reckless grin

The dimpled chin

The well of curiosity

The cause and cure for mother’s woe

Oh little boy, we love you so

Robust and sun-tanned leap of joy

How we love you, little boy

Our pride and joy

Dear little boy

Mother’s laughter and her tears

So we hold you

And we scold you

Innocence soon sheds its years

Time has such quick impatient feet

Oh little boy, precious and sweet

We must train you while we can

For soon, too soon you’ll be a man

© Janet Martin

One of my all-time favorite movies is Boy's Town. (Spencer Tracey, 1938) for so many reasons.

I agree with him, there is no such thing as a bad boy...

a child learns from what he is taught by what he observes.

Train up a child in the way he should go: 

and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Prov. 22:6 

Teach me how to Pray

Don't Let Go...

For every up there is a down

For every high there is a low

For every love there is someone

Hold my hand and don’t let go

For every joy, oh there is grief

With every wonder there is woe

For every bud there is a leaf

Hold my hand and don’t let go

For every smile there is a tear

For every tear there is a crown

For every hope there is a fear

For every up there is a down

For every triumph there’s despair

For every gain, something to lose

For every trouble there is prayer

It’s up to you and me to choose

For every high there is a low

Only, only love secures

Hold my hand and don’t let go

Hold my hand and I’ll hold yours

For every night there is a day

For every day a night to rest

For every doubt there is a way

For every better there is best

For every road there is an end

For every yes there is a no

And for each other, there’s a friend

Hold my hand and don’t let go

Oh darling, hold my hand

And

Don’t let go

J~

By Grace

My sins would bury me

As failure digs my grave

Doubt and guilt would jeer and sneer

And I would be a slave

To all the fortune it would boast

Discouragement, despair

Confounded to the uttermost

Crushed by its weight of care

But then, kind arms of mercy

Gather me in Love’s embrace

Banishing sin’s curses

I am a sinner

Saved

By grace

 

© Janet Martin

 For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:
Eph. 2:8

A Cup of Tea with a Friend...

We may travel the wide world over

North, south, from end to end

But it cannot measure the pleasure

Of a cup of tea with a friend

Many are life’s vast achievements

And many kind hands it extends

But none can replace the contentment

Of a cup of tea with a friend

© Janet Martin

Intangible Satisfaction

You warm me,

Not with cloak or shawl

Nor with sweaters of wool

Or quilted blankets

In nostalgic hue

But,

With the beautiful

Intangible

And ever irreplaceable

Thought of you

You touch me

Not with gentle brush

Of fingertips

Nor with the

Pleasing whisper

Of your lips

But you

Touch me

Like flesh can never do

In the beautiful,

Bittersweet

Satisfying

Thought of you

© Janet~

October Lullaby

The weightless leaf grows heavy ‘neath the tears of autumn’s sky

Filling leaf-swollen levies; fall exhales a lullaby

Of heaven-tinted awning dropping soundless to a berth

Where the echo of the ages slumbers, layered in the earth

A metaphor of moments trickles from the weeping limb

Relinquishing the beauty of the bud and blossomed scrim

The hour adjusts its images to nature’s perfect rule

And mortal searches, scrimmages for shadows on its pool

There is no bugle blowing; no salute to Time’s demise

As sod and stream are flowing with the tears of fall good-byes

But quiet preparation glimmers in the silver air

In raw juxtaposition of keen triumph and despair

The weightless leaf grows heavy; soon the laughing tree is mute

As winds scatter its bevy of bygones without dispute

And we behold the Truth within its stark and unclad form

The summer of fair youth is but the prelude to life’s storm

© Janet Martin

The Hand of Time

Kindly in time she removes the shards

And the thorns that mar her being

She softens realities once plain or hard

Until the picture we’re seeing

Glimmers; a sweet, soulful reverie

In a beautiful memory

The ‘good old days’ even now are being made

As daylight slips into the quiet dark

And as the echo of our hurried footsteps fade

Sealing in history their ethereal mark

We sense her stoical empathy

Preserving a beautiful memory

Surely the epitome of kindness forms her bearing

She does not care to keep our polished woes

Beneath her touch their ache is disappearing

As we hold the filament of mercy close

Gently, her brushstrokes help us see

Nothing, but a beautiful memory

© Janet Martin

Every autumn I am so reluctant to trim off the plants
in my flower-garden...
There is beauty in the broken and in blooms that weather the storm.

    

Dancing in the Rain

Yiruma always makes me feel like writing:)...love songs

Let me love you

Darling, let’s stop keeping score

Starting over

Is not what I am asking for

But just another

Day-opportunity

To love you, darling

Like I thought that love would be

Let me love you

What if this day were our last?

Would its memory

Be the one that we hold fast?

It’s so easy

To forget what we live for

And all I’m asking

Is for one loving-you-day more

Let me love you

Only death makes it too late

To keep on trying

Let me love you, then today

This flesh-blood offering

Is all that I can give

But oh, my darling

Let me love you thus

Each day I live

…and let me love you

Like a slow-dance in the rain

I want nothing

But a day-chance to try again

Starting over

Is not what I’m asking for

But just to love you,

Oh my darling

Just to love you one day more

© Janet Martin

In the Winter-fire Glow

I would do it all again

This trial-and-error slipping of the feet

Is not in vain

Even the errors we repeat

Do not spell failure

If it simply means we tried again…

In spring wildly we cling

To summer’s luring dream

In summer, softly we begin

To hear autumn’s requiem

In autumn, oh tis then we know

How swift life’s years slip past

And in the winter-fire glow

We hold its memory fast

© Janet Martin

So We Pray...

So we pray

Not as some frantic ‘last-resort’ request

But, with hope

We trust and obey

Leaving our care with He who knows best

© Janet Martin

Pray without ceasing. 1 Thess. 5:17

Beautiful Ordinaries

Embrace them,

All those beautiful ordinaries

Shaping our toil and strife

Embrace them

For beautiful ordinaries

Shape a life

Embrace them

The endless clean-up

and clutter

The chatter, the scatter

Of shoes, back-packs,

The scolding of Mother

Embrace them

The beautiful ordinaries

To which we become blind

Because in the still of retrospect

The ordinaries bind

The scattered fragments

Of duty’s strife

To color the pages

Of a beautiful life

© Janet Martin

It's Saturday,

My beautiful ordinaries are calling:) .

There She Remains...

…and there she remains

In the crook of belonging

Love is life’s beauty

There is nothing more

So there she remains

To touch with thoughts reaches

And cover with prayer

Those who part from her door…

There she remains

Sweet, tender assurance

Even as hours

And miles spin their years

There, on the Shoulder of Love

She embraces

The beautiful Knowing

That Love conquers fears

© Janet Martin

Love bears all things...

My kids don't know (actually, maybe I should tell them) that my prayers follow them each time they leave and cover them while they are gone...

Before We Ask of Him

Sometimes we do not know the words

To shape our prayer and beckoning

But our God knows; He has heard

Even before we ask of Him

Then, as we cry and beg and plead

In fear and angst and wondering

He sustains our every need

Even before we ask of Him

Our lives are not our own

A gift bestowed; no reckless whim

He reaches to us from His throne

Even before we ask of Him

With God there are no accidents

No unknown hovers vague or dim

His tender mercies intercede

Even before we ask of Him

© Janet Martin

How swiftly an accident can shift our ordinaries

As life becomes a sudden dark vale

But injury, sickness and death cannot pluck us

From Hands of love that will never fail.

We stood, watching the orange chopper (air ambulance) circle over our property as it turned to face Toronto or Hamilton, knowing it lifted off from my cousin's farm and not knowing why …we watched as the chop-chop-chop grew faint and the orange dot disappeared, and all we could do

Was pray…

My cousin, a farmer, a dad, a hubby, suffered a farm accident yesterday, losing a limb.

He is in serious condition. I do not know many details at this point other than he lost a foot or leg. Please, if you read this could you pray for him and his family?

Update: He lost his foot at the ankle. He is doing as well as can be expected at this time. they will need our prayers for a while.

 

Echoed Refrains

The year is closing in

As silently its door

Will seal within Time’s resting-place

Retrospect’s nevermore

Fearless, the moments pass

As future moments urge

Like whispers in life’s hour glass

Or autumn’s stricken dirge

Thought wings in shadow flight

Across the wending year

How quick the bud turns white

How soon winter is near

Nature’s sage interment

In solemn stillness weeps

The lowered shadows bent

Where resurrection sleeps

The Year is closing in

How swift the daylights wanes

And twixt its rising, setting sun

We write love’s rare refrains

© Janet Martin

Joy-shapes

Who can explain the shape of its cup?

These moments of joy that we hold up

To our Maker; as we dance and laugh

On summer’s tangled after-math

Even the chill wind cannot dull

The song in our heart and mouth; thankful

Thankful for the golden walnut tear

Marking the close of another year

Thankful for duty, never-ending

For the colors of farewell softly blending

With nature’s response of mute, barren trees

Stoking the moan of the wandering breeze

Thankful, yes, even for the aching sigh

Spawned by love and the tear in our eye

Who can define its measure of worth?

Humble design;  startling treasures of earth

Shaped in a smile, or the driving rain

As we dream from the dry side of the window-pane

Shaped by the leaf dangling from a limb, brave

Before spiraling, drifting to its umber-musk grave

Or else, by the madrigal of bronzed corn

As it rustles; once emerald, now brittle, forlorn

Shaped by the reaper bent on filling his sheaf

With the scattered remnant of sun-flower grief

What is the shape of summer-end joy?

Of bittersweet, beautiful autumn alloy

Of moment-drops melting away soundlessly  

In prelude to the music of memory

© Janet Martin

What is Longing?

What is longing, this inferno

Burning, yearning hunger

This groaning internal reaching

For what?

Is longing

Self-induced affliction

Carnal appetite?

Or is it holy hungry

Of things spiritual,

out of sight?

What is longing?

It cries, un-heard

Un-hushed

Weeping in the dead of night

Moaning in the noon-day rush

What is longing?

Is it folly?

or is it real?

Is it perchance, earth’s lonely sorrow

That only Heaven can heal?

© Janet Martin

Equations~

Life is a drop

In Time’s vast sea

Time is a drop

In eternity

Janet~

His Word IS...

Sometimes as I gaze upon you

Dear child, young woman, man

I wonder who will lead you

When from this nest you’ve flown

Then a sure sweet assurance

Surges from within

For His word IS, forever

And ever on, amen

His Word IS, not fleeting

Like flesh-tongue salutations

His Word IS, not bound by Time

Or parchment imitations

His Word IS, pure, faultless

And changeless through the years

A rod and staff, sure, ageless

A comfort in our fears

His Word IS; creation

Its tangible first-fruit

But it will reign forever

Though it was flesh and blood

It IS; death could not conquer

Or dis-annul its power

For His Word IS; not something

Transient as earth’s wee hour

His Word IS; true, faithful

In every age to come

His Word IS a beacon

To guide the pilgrim home

His Word IS; eternal

Dear child, young woman, man

His Word IS; infallible

Forever without end

© Janet Martin

Morning...

 This morning the sun-rise looked like a pink heart-cloud:)

Awesome God

Morning in triumph rends night’s raven bar

Mercy and grace have not withdrawn their hope

Ascending over earth’s need-stricken slope

Opaline glory flings its gates ajar

To shed upon this toil and trouble strand

Not judgment, void of love’s long-suff’ring plea

But from the backdrop of life’s mystery

Holy compassion lavishes the land

From porticoes not marred by flesh and blood

He bathes the dark with heaven’s hallowed flood

Marauders of covetousness and lust

We gaze from sepulchers of want and greed

To He who for mortal’s Primary Need

Put on a robe of humble, human dust

And Immortality with arms wide spread

Upon rough timber, cried out ‘it is done’

He satisfied The Need for everyone

Redemption once for all, His blood was shed

And all He asks of us is to believe

In Him; and everlasting Life receive

He does not leave us pining in the Dark

But lights the Way for everyone to see

For Truth and Life lead to eternity

And Hope is more than a translucent spark

His faithfulness and mercy lights the dawn

Forgiveness flows; sacred, sufficient stream

Not sealed within death’s mute, mystic requiem

But pouring from the power of the Son

As Light in triumph rends night’s heavy veil

His mercy, grace and love will never fail

© Janet Martin

 

Refocusing...

God, help me to remember

Every moment, every breath

Is part of a bigger picture

We cannot behold on earth

Remind me, when I lose focus

That success is so much more

Than the ‘what’ that we are doing

It’s the ‘Who’ we are doing it for

© Janet Martin

Three things I can always count on...lots of laundry,
lots of dirty dishes and
lots of big beautiful sky in whatever hue the Creator decides!