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(this is my favorite commercial on TV right now...) It got me to thinking...

If this is all that there would be

The sun melting against the sea

In ruby-rendered rhapsody

How futile were its glory

And if the mountains coral-kissed

Or dell swathed in soft silver mist

Were preludes to death’s vast abyss

How vain would be love’s story

If pleasantries and ecstasies

Of babies bouncing on our knees

Or midnight moonlight melodies

Would be life’s utmost splendor

And if the loved ones we embrace

And all their memories we trace

Would be the pinnacle of grace

How trite its touch so tender

If all the best life could suggest

Would fill time’s scope from east to west

To satisfy the heart’s request

Yet holds no consolation

To comfort us in parting’s pain

Before that final mystic main

That we must cross as pulses wane

How crass this brief elation

The crux of hope and joy and love

Is not a mortal dust-shaped glove

Slipped over souls; nay, One above

Has sealed beyond earth’s garden

Of whispers where sun meets the sea

In golden-ruby rhapsody

More than this glimpse of what will be

If we have claimed His pardon

© Janet Martin

 Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved." Acts 4:12

 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. John 14:3

But This We Know...

So little do we really know

Of He who makes the seed to grow

Drawing a garden from the mud

And fragrant flowers from a bud

So little can we ever tell

Of He who stands twixt heav’n and hell

Pleading in patient mercy-flood

For all to be washed in His blood

So little do we know of Him

Who, as the dirge of dusk grows dim

Abides in darkness as in light

And nothing blots us from His sight

So little can we understand

Of He who holds us in His hand

Though fiends of sin and hell assail

His love is sure and will not fail

So little can we ever grasp

Of eons beyond Time’s swift gasp

But this we know; His Word is sure

And in His love we are secure

© Janet Martin

Our thoughts and prayers are with those in Boston.

Two for Two Tuesday

PAD Challenge:
Today’s prompt is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. Here are your options:

• Write a possible poem.
• Write an impossible poem.

It is possible

In a plethora of words

To say nothing

And it is possible to say

Everything

With nothing

But a

Smile

***

It is possible

To hastily

Busily,

Breathlessly

Waste

A lifetime

Serving self

***

It is possible

To serve Him

Fully

With a cup of

Water

Offered in

His name

***

It is impossible

To serve

God of heaven

and

gods of leaven

***

It is impossible

To love

Others

Too much

Or never need

The tender touch

Of others loving

Us

***

It is impossible

Though some may debate

To say we love

Yet harbor hate

***

It is impossible

To love others

Without listening

How can we love

Yet turn a deaf ear

Or blind eye

To tear-drops

Glistening?

© Janet Martin

Do We Hear Him?

Do we hear Him whisper in raindrops free-falling?

Do we hear His promise parting dormant deep?

As up from dawn’s ebony, ether horizon

Mercy and goodness in grace-fathoms sweep

Have we heard Him move in mute midnight’s vain groping?

Oh, have we listened to His tender tones

Soothing the silence where heartache and hoping

Shapes into prayer our raw, anguished groans?

Do we hear Him murmur in poplar-tree tresses

Or sigh in the sway of a willow at noon?

Oh, have we felt Him in sun-beam caresses

Brushing the chill from winter’s farewell swoon?

His power thunders from sprouts in a garden

His whisper rocks the foundations of earth

*Tetelestai seals our eternal pardon

Filling us with His love’s blood-purchased worth

Do we hear His utterance shatter fear’s dungeon

Or blot from the darkness despair’s troubled tear?

Soundless and boundless, I AM's declaration

Cradles the universe, oh, do we hear?

© Janet Martin

This morning I was constantly, calmly reminding Matthew that he needs to hurry because it’s almost bus-time. He continued to celebrate and cheer as he scanned the score-board. “Reimers had a shut-out. (Toronto Maple Leaf’s goalie) The blue-jays won!”

…a few minutes later, THE BUS! I keep reminding him that I mean what I say even when I am not using my ‘loud voice’.

The Truth abides whether shouted or whispered. Are we listening?

'Jesus answered, "I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.' John 14:6

*Greek for ‘It is finished’.

'They Grow Up Fast' (Rob and Emily are Engaged!)

 Rob and Emily are engaged! Emily is our oldest daughter. They are engaged to be married on Oct. 12 2013.

I took this photo last night right after they told us!

a Mother's thoughts the morning after...

Back then I didn’t know

Eternities were so short

‘They grow up fast’ other mothers said

And I nodded, kissing your newborn fingers

Curled tightly around this new

Mother-finger of mine

Glad there was an eternity

Twixt then and now

‘They grow up fast’ other mothers said

And I blinked back the tears

As you climbed on the bus,

And we both waved vigorously

I, so glad that between Kindergarten

And Commencement

Spread an eternity

‘They grow up fast’

Commencement; years past

While tears shape a mother’s

Joy-drenched grief

Because there are no eternities on earth

Only gasps

They grow up fast

…and you laugh

High on love and dreams

As you show us your ring

And you teach us new words

Like ‘plan a wedding’

And you think six months

Is an eternity

© Janet Martin

All her Dad can say is 'I'm not ready for this!' (though he is happy for her/them)
Are any of us ever truly ready?
Congratulations and God bless you, Robyn and Emily.
Love, Mom and Dad

Precious Agony

They cannot see

How

Translucently

Its tender pieces are strewn

Like perfumed petals

Decking the grass

On a sunny afternoon

And they cannot feel

Time's soft breeze steal

With caresses

Part by part

The ever-expanding

Ever-decreasing

Pieces

Of a mother’s heart

© Janet Martin

Image source; pinterest

Infestation Poem

PAD Challenge: For today’s prompt, write an infested poem. There are many different infestations–from physical infestations to infestations of the heart and soul.

The world is infested

miserably

with a little worm called

me! me! Me!

Imagine how much 

good we could do

if we fought 'me'

with you! you! You!

Janet Martin

Things done for me
Dies with 'me'
things done for others
lives in eternally!

 

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.Matt; 25:40

Ice Princess

When my neighbor said there would be more 'beauty' in the morning we had no idea it would come at a price...no hydro. Our electricity is back after 3 days; for many it is not! Oh what bliss to be able to wash my face with warm water!

...and she screamed her arrival
no poise or grace
did she attempt
this ice-princess
tapping her nails
in noisy descent
sealing the landscape
in a glass tent


Janet

Evening, Come Gently

 As I took these pictures a few minutes ago I told the neighbor I'm trying to find the beauty in this! He replied that there's going to be a lot more 'beauty' come morning:))Alas, the evening is not so gentle now; it sounds like someone is flinging pebbles at the window.

Evening, come gently and soften the gale

Binding the landscape in icy travail

Subdue the mistral of howling lament

Whisper your kisses against its torment

Remind Old Man Winter his time has expired

Then evening, come gently, the trees are so tired

Evening, come softly and gentle away

The pelting of ice tears and land-seas of gray

Cradle the country-side ensconced in glass

Smooth back the ocean of winter’s last blast

The half-budded limb has grown heavy with grief

Pausing the vim of a newly born leaf

Evening, come tender, with motherly love

Hush the snow splendor that weeps from above

Comfort the wee bird hunkered in its nest

While over, around him the wind-demons jest

Evening come gently with sweet lullaby

Soothe the wild tempest screaming from the sky

© Janet Martin

Waiting for Spring

Flirtatious breeze, where hast thou fled

And when wilt thou return?

Thy touch for which we keenly yearn

Is clutched in gales of lead

Ah wooly wind, when wilt thou don

Once more thy winsome way

To tease the bleating lambs that play

On verdant meadow yon?

Sweet zephyr, voice of willow-song

Must thou so bashful be?

The night without thy melody

Is deep and dark and long

Dear vesper, crooning daylight’s dirge

Wilt thou be ever still?

Thy duet with the whip-poor-will

Thrills retrospect’s soft surge

Flirtatious breeze, the somber spire

Hungers for spring’s caress

When wilt thy kiss unfurl the tress

Of wood-land’s gladsome choir?

© Janet Martin

  

In Case of Cabin Fever

In case of cabin fever when the gate is barred

To sun-splashed trails or dappled yard

I cherish the comfort of the common quill

Where footprints of fantasy roam at free will

…and there, in the clutch of tardy spring’s ice-fist

I have been rampantly, recklessly kissed

With laughter of lilac and twinkling mischief

Caught in a dew-drop on thought’s summer leaf

I’ve touched with mien of scribbled ink

The faint horizon-lines mute brink

And defied laws of gravity

To fly where feet can never be

I’ve held you close; suffered the bliss

Of farewell’s wild and pleading kiss

And in the thrill where ink-drops bleed

Its foot-prints spill in poetry

© Janet Martin

Poetics Aside Prompt: In case of ...add the ending.

In case of Discontentment

April PAD Challenge: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “In Case of (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles could include “In Case of Emergency,” “In Case of Oversleeping,” “In Case of Snoring,” or something else.

In case of discontentment

I keep a mental list

Of sweet and simple blessings

For I am heaven-kissed

Beneath the crumbs of living

Beneath its muddy tracks

The peace of simple blessing

Atones for what life lacks

© Janet Martin

 

Beyond our Control

We can fuss and kick and scream

And shake our fists up at the sky

We can beg, wheedle and scheme

Or sit upon the floor and cry

We can plan, predict and pray

Plead and ponder and cajole

In the end the truth remains

The weather, we cannot control

© Janet Martin

We can plan many events but never the weather to go with it.

The school kids are happy today. Buses cancelled, schools closed. 

I can't remember this ever happening this late in April!

Perfect Strength

Poetics Aside prompt; write a suffering poem

I've seen it...that  Perfect Strength

When his mother (of a large family) spoke of being 'carried'
after losing everything in a house-fire,
after losing a son in Afghanistan,
after losing her husband suddenly a few years later...

I've seen it as my cousin tells me
he wouldn't go back to the 'before' if he had a choice
if it would mean giving up what has been given in place
of the leg he lost in a farming accident last fall...being carried

I saw it it today as I hugged her, me choked up
and she calmly  saying those words
...words like chemotherapy, second treatment today,
radiation, hair falling out and I knew
she was being carried in the arms
of Perfect Strength

Janet~

1Cor. 12:9

I Will Sing of Your Strength

But I will sing of your strength, 

in the morning I will sing of your love; 

for you are my fortress, 

my refuge in times of trouble .Ps. 59:16

I will sing of your strength in the morning

Oh Lord, I will sing of your faithful love

See how Your mercy rolls back the dark awning

Of midnight in shades flung from heaven above

I will sing of your strength in the noonday

While toil and temptation trouble and test

Surely your goodness and mercy will succor

Until the eventide bids us to its rest

I will sing of Your strength in the evening

When shadows fold over life’s weary way

You are my fortress, my refuge in trouble

God of the golden and God of the gray

Lord, I will sing of Your strength at midnight

Lest in the silence of darkness and space

Fear should persuade be to doubt in the kindness

Of Your everlasting goodness and grace

© Janet Martin

Middle-age Blues...

Today's PAD Challenge; Suffering poem

He lights a cigarette

Waiting until

They flip the sign

At Toney’s Bar and Grill

He’s slapped on

Just enough after-shave

To dull the truth

And make him brave

Cause he’s still got it

Cool dude in new boots

And he’s not suffering

From middle-age blues

No he’s not ready to

Wear ‘old-man shoes’

And he’s not suffering

Middle-age blues

His Ford F150

Is parked outside

He just needs a babe

Looking for a ride

So he’s flirty and dirty

Tries his sexiest grin

Man, this used to charm them

As he’d reel them in

But now an eye-roll

Is the best he can do

And trust me

Tonight he’s gotten a few

But he’s not suffering

Those middle-age blues

And it’s their loss

If they refuse

Mr. Hot-shot

In new,

Rawhide cowboy boots

He swivels on his bar-stool

Scanning the place

Hoping for a fresh

Unfamiliar face

But he’s seen them all

And well, the truth

Is, they’re

Crowding those young bucks

With nothing

But youth

And dreams

And time

Aw, pitiful crime

The thief of years

Won’t reimburse

Those innocent fears

An’ if he were a cursin’ man

Well, he’d curse

But he doesn’t;

After all it could be worse

He’s got a cool truck

And the sun’s just goin’ down

With enough time to make it

Over to the next town

Because it’s just this way

Beggars can’t choose

And he’s not suffering

Those middle-age blues

No how, no way, crank up the tunes

He’s not suffering

Middle-age blues

© Janet Martin

This poem is entirely fictional...any reference which seems to apply to you is completely accidental;)) I decided to have a little fun with the hapless fellow having a smoke outside  Smokin' Tony's on my way home today:))

Sweet Suffering of Love...a Sonnet

April PAD Challenge: For today’s prompt, write a suffering poem. A person or animal in the poem could be suffering. The poem itself could be suffering.

The sweet suffering of love, my darling

Splays its ache in blood-streams where

We gladly partake of its rendering

Clawing to glean from Time’s gossamer stare

Her passionate, perplexing persuasion

Daring to wear her stripes and her scars

For one blissful, half-grin invitation

To touch the tresses which cradle the stars

And though we know joy is lined with sorrow

And though we suspect its pleasure veils pain

We gather love’s moments for no one can borrow

From yesterday’s archives its measure again

Though laughter today turns to tears tomorrow

We suffer its sunshine to dance in the rain

© Janet Martin

 

In the Dark in my Thought in the Rain

Serene Eternity of summoned sighs

Madrigal-murmur of lingering good-byes

Drifts on the fringe of first-flower tinged dusk

Imbibed with draughts of blue rain-song and musk

Futile, the fervor to beg of its dark

To reimburse one little flicker or spark

For hands cannot clench or re-capture once more

The moments that ripple to memory’s shore

Truth is a constant; its stance un-beguiled

Though seasons may ravage, determined and wild

It does not bend beneath Time’s moment-flow

Or flounder beneath bully breezes that blow

And we cannot cleave to our breast what is gone

Save for the echo of day that is done

Save for the tremor of love’s tender tear

Save for the whisper of those we hold dear

Serene Eternity of summoned sighs

Keening the gasp of immortal goodbyes

Here in the dark, in my thought in the rain

We surpass ramparts to dance once again

© Janet Martin  

  

Exphrastic Poetry...on Roadsigns, Rebellion and Rambling

 Poetic Bloomings Prompt: Ekphrastic Poetry 

An old highway-sign

Scarred with weather and lead

Won’t teach you to drive

Or put sense in your head

***

We tripped over the sign on our way to the top

of the hill where the daisies were starting to bloom

but thirty five miles is much too fast

for grass highways in God’s living-room

so we dragged it as best as we were able

to the top and used it for our picnic table

***

Time flies they say

And so will we

If we don't obey

The posted speed

***

This is the spot

Where she did not heed

The caution of

The posted speed

Now all that is left

Is weather and years

In a little place

Called the vale of tears

***

Don’t drink and drive

Don’t play with guns

And if the cop is chasing you

DON’T try to out-run

Them

***

That sign in the grass reminds us

That Time will pass; so why do we fuss

Over all that will drift as a seed on the wind?

Let’s just laugh, love, live and be kind

Rambler of Moments

Ah, wayfaring rambler of moments

Where will we wander today?

The eaves of the skyline are heavy

With spring’s restless palette of gray

But I hear a song in its hollow

And I feel a tug in the air

Where pastures of winter-worn fallow

Beckon that we should come there

Time is a smooth operator

See how it cunningly slips

Over the cup of a season

It rushes, meanders and drips

And we are its wayfaring ramblers

Grasping the moments that seep

Through our ephemeral hunger

We laugh, love, worry and weep

And we think that we are too busy

To squander upon the south slope

An hour to commune with violets

Or other such emblems of hope

The brook-song released from its bondage

Tumbles through earth’s verdant lea

Charging no fee for our pausing

To list to its melody

Duty is a tireless master

And we are a whisper of dust

I think we owe it to nature

To revel in its wanderlust

© Janet Martin

Wander your moments wisely

They do not pass again

Two-for-Two Tuesday

PAD Challenge; Today is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. Write one of the following (or both):

• Write a hunter poem.
• Write a hunted poem.

Hunter…

I love to hunt in the dark

…for your eyes, your neck

Your lips

Darling, beware the weapon

Of finger-tips

Hunted…

I love 

when you hunt 

in the dark

…for my eyes, 

my neck,

My lips…

Janet~

Renewal

Create in me a thankful heart

And do not let my thoughts fall prey

To discontentment’s cheerless ploy

To pine for dust-and-rust decay

Create in me a loving heart

Not for stuff’s cold, unfeeling dirt

But for life’s kindred flesh and blood

For hand outstretched and hearts that hurt

Create in me a gentle heart

Revenge and rancor are not mine

But help me to forgive offense

And strive to let love’s pure Light shine

Create in me a humble heart

Lest I be blinded by my pride

Forgetting that because of me

And at my hands you bled and died

© Janet Martin

Thoughts while spring-cleaning...

Everything but Love 

and the recourse thereof

 will return to dust-bunnies

and other such stuff

The Whisper of His Outer Fringes

The shadow of His Holy Majesty

Imbues the lowly filament of sod

As nature’s faithful handiwork of God

Stuns the spectator to humility

He threads the bud upon the dormant tree

And probes the seed within earth’s patient clutch

As barren flourishes beneath His touch

Where bird and leaf-song swells in harmony

Each cloud He spills inspires rainbow hue

As petal-cups are filled with fragrant hope

Delighting winter’s weary stricken slope

With violet, daffodil and meadow-rue

The whisper of His outer fringes quells

The babble of our vain, repulsive selves

© Janet Martin

 And these are but the outer fringe of his works; how faint the whisper we hear of him! Who then can understand the thunder of his power?" Job 26:14

Preludes...No Assembly Required

April PAD Challenge: For today’s prompt, write an instructional poem. Your instructional poem could list instructions. Or it could capture an instructional moment.

Darling, meet my gaze, not by chance
Steal my breath with your half-grin glance
Rush through my senses, undo my heart
With intimate, just-between-us mind-art
Place your whisper over my sigh
Write your poetry over the sky
Ravage me darling, as wishes and needs
Coalesce keenly where thought intercedes

Janet~

Oh, What a Beautiful Heartache

Oh, what a beautiful heartache

If this were the best there would be

The sun climbing over the tumbled ridge

And out to the edge of the sea

Oh, what a bittersweet being

If ever the best here on earth

Would be our pitiful boasting

And utmost acclaim of worth

Oh, what a beautiful heartache

To know that the rush of a breeze

Tumbling with spring’s heady laughter

Through pink-blooming wild-apple trees

Or murmur of dusk on the fallow

Where farmer and wanderer delight

Would be hope’s vertex of pleasure

Before death’s indelible night

Oh, what a beautiful heart-ache

Love’s staggering wonder would be

If flesh was our quest for redemption

Or zenith of ecstasy

What futile and feckless existence

If when this brief being is through

We hear His heart-shattering utterance

“Depart, for I never knew you”

© Janet Martin 

 The Vision on the Island of Patmos
"And I turned to see the voice that was speaking with me. And having turned, I saw seven golden lamp-stands; and in the middle of the lamp stands one like the Son of Man, clothed in a robe reaching to the feet, and girded across His breast with a golden girdle. And His head and His hair were white like wool, like snow; and His eyes were like a flame of fire; and His feet were like burnished bronze, when it had been caused to glow in a furnace, and His voice was like the sound of many waters. And in His right hand He held seven stars, and out of His mouth came a sharp two-edged sword; and His face was like the sun shining in its strength. And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as a dead man. And He laid His right hand upon me, saying, 'Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living One; and I was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of death and of Hades." (Revelation 1:12-18).

Compositions of Air

 

You play my mind

Mantra undefined

Beautiful melancholy

Of bitter-sweet memory

You play my heart

Breath-notes of stunning art

Amorous melody

Shaped in a memory

J~

Make Mine Vanilla

Oh, but there are no vanilla-moments
Of nothingness, you see
Time shapes without awareness
Accountability
And in each flavor-choice we make
There is nothing free
We are masters but of this
Accountability

Janet Martin

In the End It Always Ends

Because every thing ends...

the tree from an acorn

expanding its shadow

over childhood's lawn

...the blush creeping

over frost-diamond meadow

in the first trembling hour of dawn

the love song, the laughter, the picture-show

in spite of half-breath bliss

is a moment by moment surrender

to its  farewell kiss

for the beginning of all things mortal

will end; its destiny

nudging us ever forward

to eternity...

 

...so treasure each timorous moment

falling like petals of mist

drink from time's ethereal fountain

revel in its bubble-bliss

for each end is a new beginning

each beginning is not the end

and its not the beginning
but how we finish

that ultimately counts, my friend

so, suffer its stumbling and fumbling

 the ends that ever must be

before life's surging vapor reaches
its final destiny

of endless eternity

Janet~