Of Green-leaf Joy

The still of noon will soon be brushed
With melody of sighs
Though now the park is haunted, hushed
Beneath the warming skies
It won’t be very long until
The oriole, lark and whippoorwill
Their crystal choruses will spill
From green-leaf paradise

…and then the stark and stringent air
And all the quiet cold
Will melt as limbs, budded and bare
Their petal-notes unfold
With rustling joy their hymns caress
The moan of wooded emptiness
In lacy, green-leaf happiness
And whispers fresh and bold

…then they will spread their shadow, glad
Upon the grassy slope
The naked skeleton re-clad
With songs of emerald hope
Beneath their flaunt of lacy limb
And earths refurbished diadem
We revel in the glorious hymn
Of green-leaf calliope

© Janet Martin

Poetics Aside Prompt: Shade/shady

Happy Easter

Come shout the news

His hope proclaim

He is alive

Oh, praise His name

He conquered death

Carried our shame

He is alive

Oh, praise His name

Yesterday, for aye

The same

Alive, Alive,

Oh, praise His name

Janet Martin~

Handel's Messiah: Hallelujah...

That's Not All...

 He came to earth

In lowly birth

Laid in a cattle stall

As shepherd’s came

To worship him

But that’s not all…

From door to door

He sought the poor

The weakest and the small

Healing, reaching

Touching, teaching

But that’s not all…

Throngs spoke His name

His unsought fame

Filled kings and scribes with gall

Gall turned to hate

And vile debate

But that’s not all

With plans well-laid

Judas betrayed

The One of tender call

Disciples fled

In fear and dread

But that’s not all

Beaten and torn

God’s only Son

Was led to Pilates hall

He was released

To human beasts

But that’s not all

Upon a tree

On Calvary

Midst jeers and angry call

They crucified

Love; and He died

But that’s not all

In tomb of stone

Lay Heaven’s own

But earth is far too small

To keep for long

God’s only Son

So that’s not all

And from the tomb

In glorious bloom

Arose our All in all

Jesus fulfilled

God’s perfect will

But that’s not all

His sacrifice

Has paid sin’s price

And saves man from The Fall

He is alive

His grace forgives 

But that’s not all

 

Each one must choose

Accept, refuse

When they hear His Voice call

His love is free

Eternally

That is all

© Janet Martin

John 1:12 Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God--

Look at the Cross...(from my Front Porch Poetry Blog)

Look, look at the cross, no, no don’t look away
See love's sacred offering on gruesome display
See the thorns, wicked thorns so humbly worn
By the One who loved all; All the sick and forlorn,
The foolish, the wealthy, all those who would scorn
His dear name; so look at the cross on public display,
Not in some dark corner tucked dimly away
But up on a hill for the whole world to see
Perfect love, awesome love for you and me

Look, look at the cross, at the dear Lord’s face
Bearing the shame of public disgrace,
A face that was spat on, yet knew only love,
The face of a King from a kingdom above,
A face which has power earth and heaven to move
In a whisper; yet on it flow crimson tears
As He weeps, not in pain but in love so sincere
He calls out to His father from upon this tree
The symbol of hope for humanity

Look, look at the cross, at the hands that are bleeding,
Pierced through with nails and yet He is pleading
That man will find mercy in this holy flood,
Forgiveness and hope in a perfect Lamb's blood,
Redemption pouring from the Son of God
His hands stretch out for all to see
That this is He who sets men free
Hands that ministered to man’s most humble need
Have fulfilled their greatest work indeed

So look at the cross, behold the Lamb
The beginning, the end, the Great I AM
Look at his body, pierced and bleeding
Love flowing down for all who are needing
The hope of a Savior, as still He is pleading
Forgive them; and as darkness and thunder descend
His cry is heard through all the land
‘It is finished,” and now there is hope for the lost
If we look at the cross, if we look at the cross...

...and if we look at the cross, at the out-stretched limb,
Behold the blood and the suffering,
If we gaze on His love and the wonder of Him,
Will we think to be saved on that final Day
If we look, turn our backs and walk away?


Janet Martin

Shall I crucify your King? Pilate asked. John 19:15

Red

 

From Calvary’s cross

Redemption bled

And covered our dross

In rivers of red

“It is finished”

He bowed His head

As grace poured freely

In rivers of red

“Oh, look and live”

Hope is not dead

God forgives

In rivers of red

© Janet Martin

NaPoWriMo Prompt: Write a 'color' poem

 "For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell,
and through Him to reconcile to Himself all things,
whether on earth or in heaven,
making peace by the blood of His cross. " - Colossians 1:19

Song: The Wonder of the Cross

Silver

Silver night

Casts silvery sigh

On the silver shadows

Where willow-limbs lie

Silver oceans

Cover the grass

Where silver moments

Stilly pass

Silver silence

Wrenches the sky

I didn’t know silver

Is the shade of good-bye

…as silver breezes

Offer silver cheer

In a silver world

Through my silver tears

J~

NaPoWriMo Prompt: A 'color' poem

Wordless Conversation Poem-lets

I have held an ocean stirred

in the absence of mere word

and I have melted in the wile

of your suggestive, faint half-smile

***

When Mother starts to look at you

You feel a presence in your pew

As suddenly you catch my stare

And quickly bow your head in prayer

***

He sets his mug down

And looks up

His wife pours

Another cup
Not in compulsion
Or stiff duty
But in the pleasure
Of love's simple beauty 

***

From across the room

Our eyes meet

And only heaven

Can compete

With the blissful

Thought we share

As love and longing

Keen the air

***

His smirk

Sparked her ire

And she saw red

He’s got

The couch now

And she’s got the bed

***

Janet~

Poetics Aside Prompt: Wordless Conversations

And the Winner Is...

Battling now

Two innate desires

To close my eyes now

Or to stoke the fires

While slumber is pleasing

It cannot compete

With the tender-sweet teasing

As word and thought meet

The trickling of moments

The ticking of time

Are the musical meter

Of rhythm and rhyme

So here is the quandary

To sleep or not

But I feel my Muse curving

Against my thought

And I have never

Had the will to resist

The luring endeavor

In a word’s cunning kiss

© Janet Martin