To all of you who wonder Is She Insane?!

I do not expect anyone to read
every drop of ink I bleed
but each drop falls with a little prayer
that it will find the right heart
somehow
somewhere...

Janet~
  Every emotion we feel is not uncommon. J~

A few more reasons...

“It was when I was happiest that I longed most...The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing...to find the place where all the beauty came from.”
― C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold 


 “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.”
― Martin Luther

 “You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth.”
― William W. Purkey

 “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”
― C.S. Lewis

 “Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results.”
― Albert Einstein


and last but not least...

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway

...and so I write.

Regarding Gifts...

How I admire the artwork of others

Whether formed of paint or string

Tapestries, canvasses, pottery, sweaters

Each answers their own calling

I love to knit and paint and weave

But not with acrylic or thread

Each works with gifts that they receive

So I choose words instead

I sift through adjectives and phrases  

Searching for the perfect shade

Blending consonants and vowels

Until a little thought is made

And by the power of ink-swirled letters

Little poems and pictures form

It’s fun to gather them together

Painting solace or a storm

Some words are like cozy sweaters

Knit in a hug to the heart

Words paint all manner of pictures

Vivid airbrushed works of art

I’m glad God gifted His children

Each in their own special way

Whether with cook-books or palettes
or string or clay
With music or camera,
surf-board or pen
He gives, as befits
His gifts to men...

May we give Him our best each day

© Janet Martin

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit. 1 Cor. 12:4

God Forbid...

God forbid that I should worship

Temporal gods of clay and rust

Gathering in my groping visage

Treasure-chests of painted dust

God forbid that I should journey

From the cradle to the grave

Only then to find in horror

They are powerless to save

God forbid that I should hunger

In the wantonness of things

Choosing never to discover

Heaven’s sacred offerings

God forbid, as centuries trickle

Through the clouds above a stone

That I should thus remain forever

Bound by gods without a throne

© Janet Martin

Testing one, two, three...

Testing, testing, one, two, three

If all others forsook

Would you still love Me?

And if they would turn

With rocks in their grip

Would you stand firm

As Stephen did?

Janet~

A few years ago I read this poem and saved it.

and never forgot it's challenge...

Perhaps the hands that held the stone

If the truth were really known

That Stephens thought of hope that day

Heaven is just a stones throw away.

(I wonder if I could be such a man) 

anonymous~

Homemaker's Prayer

Lord, bless these walls that we call home

And may it be a place

Where love forgives what others judge

And covers it with grace

Lord, bless the feet that come and go

And if you should see fit

Oh, bring them home at eventide

To gather here a bit

Lord, keep this home within Thy care

And may it ever be

A mirrored hope of portals where

We’ll dwell eternally

© Janet Martin~

I am a stay-at-home mom...
sometimes it feels like I'm always waving to someone
or telling them not to get home too late, or 'be careful'
and always a little breath-prayer to lead them home.

Thank-you God for Your mercies.

Purposed Peace

For all the thoughts we cannot tell

For all the loves we cannot hold

For all the dreams that softly fell

Beneath the sod where death lies cold

For all the grief that loving brings

For all life’s comfort and despair

These are the dear and temporal things

We lift to Father God, in prayer

© Janet Martin

Room for Me?

Darling, will you always

Make room for me there?

If I should come knocking

Will you pull out a chair?

And if the long night

Is too silent and still

Could I squeeze in against you

And rest there until

The dew on the garden

Or the gold sunlight seeps

Through half-open shutters

Where we lie asleep?

Or should the spark die

On the cold midnight hearth

Will the spark in your eyes

Twinkle softly with mirth?

Will you push aside gladly

Those things that you touch

To make room for somebody

You love so much?

Oh darling, I think

I should die of despair

If I knocked on your heart

And you no longer cared…

© Janet Martin

Sky-lover...

I long to reach out to touch you

Or at least, hear the beat of your heart

I do not know why I love you

We are heaven and earth apart

But you taunt me from low-flung lintels

A vast ever-changing sweep

And sometimes I wish I were able

To fly through your smile with a leap

You hover above me at present

Tucking this day to the past

A deepened blue, somnolent essence

Garnished with a star-studded cast

I remain your quiet admirer

You remain grandly unaware

As I fling unspoken desire

Into your infinite stare

© Janet Martin