Music of Heaven...

 Sound of the Rain

Mellow they drop

Like soft notes of a song

Reviving the laughter

Of hillside and lawn

Somnolent cadence

Of murmuring splash

Urging to radiance

Spring’s emerald sash

Silver epiphany

Sacred refrain

Sudden renewal

Surges again

Softening edges

Stirring the sod

Tuning the earths cape

With whispers of God

Like a heart transformed

By the touch of His hand

The music of Heaven

Restores barren land

© Janet Martin

Meant to Be Enjoyed Slowly~

When I read you

I cannot rush

So I save you

For the midnight hush

Some I appreciate

In broad daylight

But you, I save

For the deep part of night

To grasp every meaning

That you never spell

And to hear every whisper

That you never tell

Janet

On Planting

If you plant peas, my dear
You will not get beets
The fruit that will sprout
Is the off-spring of seeds

...just as in life
Deeds are seeds of fruit
We cannot plant evil
And expect to reap good

Janet~

In 'not-so-loving' memory of Gwen

 Poetics Aside asks us to write an animal poem.

Her name was Gwen
She was black and white
And how she would smile
In devilish delight
As the little ‘milk-maid’
Would splash and slide
Through grass and weeds
And fresh-made ‘pies’
No shout or slap
Would alter her gait
As she looked back and laughed
At the little milk-maid

Co’ boss, co’ boss,
My sing-song plea
Seemed to be lost
On ‘her royalty’
In old rubber-boots
Two sizes too small
The milk-maid would beg
And the milk-maid would call
Co’ boss, co’ boss
Won’t you hurry please?
With a toss of her head
Gwen would pause ‘neath the trees

They say there is 'one'
In every crowd
And Gwen wore that title
Sedately and proud
A yell and a poke
And a slap on the rump
Did not even cause
Her ‘royalty’ to jump
Through the gate at last
Prodded into place
Gwen lifts her muddy tail
And slaps my face

Janet Martin

This was back in the day when dairy cows were turned to pasture
and for a while it was my job at 5:00 p.m to help bring in the cows, tie them up,
assemble the 'milkers' and after supper...milking.
Gwen and I were arch-enemies...I did not like her and she did not like me!
...oh! and 'muddy tail' was the polite description... it was more like manure-drenched
at milking time if she lay in the stall and let her tail drag in the gutter! Ah, good times:)

He Makes Us Beautiful

Bruised and battered,

Disappointed,

Riddled with

Discouragement

Dreams are shattered

Tears anoint

The ragged fringe

Of hope’s garment

But in spite

Of our failure

Jesus makes us beautiful

As we raise hope

To His window

And His Light shines

Through the holes

© Janet Martin

The Daily Bread ‘Thought’ today is…

God doesn’t remove all of our imperfections

But he makes us beautiful by shining through them

Ephemeral Farewell

See the Beam from yonder portals

How its bleeding colors splay

Lifting hearts of weary mortals

At the waning notes of day

See it flood the earth in purple

As He draws the lucent scrim

In deft moments, smooth and subtle

Over present growing dim

Light divine, Celestial Ocean

Drawing to its shore our eyes

Turning thought from earth to heaven

From this toil to paradise

See the glimmer of a Kingdom

As the twilight cools our brow

See the lowlight ‘neath the curtain

Etch the skyline in its glow

Hear the cooling vespers murmur

Rising in dust-fragrant dew

Serenading the departure

Of another stanza through

Sweet the fading sonnet lingers

Dangling from the crescent moon

Feel it trickle through your fingers

Soft, ephemeral farewell tune

© Janet Martin

My 'Every-day Heaven'

It waits for tender touches

Of loving care

The begging of Duty

Hangs on the air

I gaze at the mountains

Of mundane spoil

Shaping my moments

Of prayer and of toil

As I thank God above

For all He has given

In the clutter of love

My every-day ‘heaven’

© Janet Martin

…trying to ‘spruce up’ the place a little and get some major cleaning done for some up-coming events we are hosting…the question... How much, how soon? Cleaning can be un-done very quickly here!

Imminent Mystery

Gazing toward the sky-line

I wonder what lies beyond…

…beyond the curve, the dip, the bend

That everlasting yawn

Yet, though I push toward it

I never reach its crest

But remain in the epicenter

Of north, south, east and west

So I’ll drink in the green and the purple

Of spring’s temporal diadem

Embracing the imminent mystery

Of the moment I am in

© Janet Martin