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

It IS...

It does not make distinction

Between prestige

Or skin-color

Or age.

It is free but with great price

Sacrifice

No one can be fulfilled without it

Yet it is worthless when kept.

We cannot hold it in tightly clenched fists

And dictators cannot put one finger on it

to control its power.

It does not recognize distance

It cannot be withheld

For if it is withheld

It is not what its boast proclaims

It speaks, but often in silence

It shouts in breath-prayers

It heals wounds inflicted by it

It humbles both the giver and the receiver

It quiets the wanting when given away

It comforts when shared

It is not a thing, yet it is everything

It is love.

© Janet Martin

School Girl

Two left feet and

four eyes

inspired master-pieces

from the architects

of cruelty.

As jeers swarmed
in the September sun

she glimpsed it's tears

caressing

golden maples

June was only

nine months away

and words could not steal

Heaven unfolding

before her eyes

© Janet Martin