Friday, August 3, 2012
Easy to Love
It is not hard to love you
Philanderer of sunflowers and such
You seduce me with oceans of purple
As fields bloom beneath your touch
Your sapphire eyes, how they tease me
With butterfly-kisses you flirt
Running your fingers across my midday
And writing our names in the dirt
It is not heard to love you
Successor to esteemed July
Your arms spill with Wildflower Rivers
Earth’s heaven extends to the sky
You tug at my hands bound to duty
Insisting I pause recklessly
To lie with you on a hot afternoon
Under the willow tree
It is not hard to love you
I follow your passionate plea
Too soon the flask of chill Autumn
Will pour your demise on earth’s lea
It is not hard to love you
I relinquish yesterday’s tear
For joy has returned in the morning
It is easy to love you, August dear
© Janet Martin
Beholding Anew...
It rises and descends alike, in coral symmetry
Across the tasseled landscape rolls the morning’s misty sea
Up from the muted skyline; from the vaulted astral slope
The deeper hour dissipates in mercy-tinted hope
Shoulders that bore the somber mantle of a midnight shroud
Respond to whispers soft and gentle of the softened cloud
As Fingers gently smooth away nocturnal overtones
And darkest night is turned to day; pink river on the stones
It rises and descends alike; the overtures of prayer
From lips of men to heart of God; our triumph and despair
From dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn His power cannot fail
And soon our earth-dimmed eyes behold the rending of night’s veil
A multitude of miracles unfold each mortal hour
Pouring from Mystery’s bosom to earth’s sun and shadow bow’r
Up from the muted skyline; from the astral vaulted slope
We lift our eyes; behold anew the nail-scarred Hands of hope
© Janet Martin
That’s the way it was this morning; an ocean of pink-misted mercy
flooding the land as it fell from the sky…
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.
For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to anyone.
Lam. 3:32-33
Though he brings grief, he will show compassion,
so great is his unfailing love.
For he does not willingly bring affliction
or grief to anyone.
Lam. 3:32-33
Thoughts and Poemlets for Friday Thoughts
When we come to the end
Of our answers
We begin
The journey of faith
***
How swiftly comes
The turning page
A day, a month, a year
And as we cross
Its phantom stage
Of fortune, faith or fear
We realize
This fleeting leap
Offers no guarantee
But one
There is no plural
In the word eternity
Death does not seek
Simply the old
Not one of us can know
How many pages
We will turn
Before we’re called to go
Life is a gift
As is God’s love
His grace and mercy, free
We ought to call on Him
Before
That word; eternity
***
Gather your complaints in a bucket
And bury them deep in the sod
Gather your cares, your heartaches and fear
And carry them in prayer, to God
***
A storm is not forever
Only the Hand beneath it
***
We cannot comprehend the Love
That tries us in our sorrows
Faith is the mystic substance of
His hope for our tomorrows
We cannot glimpse the best of Him
In prosperity’s bubble
We only see the rest of Him
Until He sends us trouble
***
If I feel no ache for the hungry
Should I yet eat?
If I feel no sorrow for the lost
Am I yet found?
If I feel no pity for the weak
Dare I think myself strong?
If I do not weep with those who weep
Shall I yet rejoice?
If I do not pray for the fallen
Do I stand?
If I do not recognize need
Can I yet recognize greed?
If I cannot master thought
Will thought be my master?
If I cannot love God first
Can I yet love?
***
Thank-you God for morning
Un-splattered; a new sheet
Before I leave a footprint, Lord
© Janet Martin
Considering This...
I cannot serve my Maker
With my fellow-man’s tool
To wish for his talent
Is to think like a fool
But I can serve fully
If willing I’ll be
To use for His honor
The gifts He gave me
To covet the beauty
In my neighbor’s field
Is to shirk my own duty
And portend of its yield
Servant or master
It matters not
As long as we give Him
© Janet Martin
A Perfect Scale of Bliss
Who knew that doh-Rae-meh-fah-soh
Could leave me breathless perfectly?
Who knew that la and tee and doh
Could shift the earth beneath my feet?
There are no verbs or nouns yet heard
That move like sound without a word
Timeless Troubadour
My darling, tender, timeless troubadour
You come to me when deepened skies are still
No violin, no flute and no guitar
To soothe the sighs that press against my will
Oh mediator of the heart and mind
Oh, miracle of half-forgotten hope
Oh twilight troubadour, reckless yet kind
You stroll across the spirit’s silvered slope
With obscure fingers, softly you caress
The gilded latch, secured by daylight schemes
And easily it seems that you access
The storehouse of fond memories and dreams
Grand Maestro of entrancing, ethereal art
Oh lover of the tranquil midnight fell
You curve your melody around my heart
And move me in your transcendental swell
My darling, tender, timeless troubadour
I tremble ‘neath the movement of your touch
Oh gentle minstrel of the midnight hour
Tuning the breeze, the moon, the stars and such
Then, as you strum these astral instruments
And earth becomes a begging ball-room floor
You take me in your willing arms to dance
My darling, tender, timeless troubadour
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Be Still And Know...
Be still and know that I am God,
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I paint the trees that mark the trails
Where fleet deer rests and coyote wails,
I touch the clouds with coral hues
And brush with gold the azure blues,
Then as the night-shades softly fall
I wrap you in a starry shawl
Be still and know that I am God
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I guide the laughing brooks that play
Beneath the weeping willows sway,
I tend the minnows as they race
Within its bubbling, trickling pace,
I ruffle all the fern and flowers
Gracing shores and leafy bowers
Be still and know that I am God,
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I plan the hills and valleys too,
And promise that I’ll see you through
The winds that taunt the shifting sail,
The whispering breeze, the strongest gale,
The storms that toss you where you stand,
I hold them all within My hand
Be still and know that I am God,
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I plan the beauty and the pain,
The warm sunshine, the driving rain,
My grace sufficient for each need
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I paint the trees that mark the trails
Where fleet deer rests and coyote wails,
I touch the clouds with coral hues
And brush with gold the azure blues,
Then as the night-shades softly fall
I wrap you in a starry shawl
Be still and know that I am God
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I guide the laughing brooks that play
Beneath the weeping willows sway,
I tend the minnows as they race
Within its bubbling, trickling pace,
I ruffle all the fern and flowers
Gracing shores and leafy bowers
Be still and know that I am God,
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I plan the hills and valleys too,
And promise that I’ll see you through
The winds that taunt the shifting sail,
The whispering breeze, the strongest gale,
The storms that toss you where you stand,
I hold them all within My hand
Be still and know that I am God,
I plan the pathway that you trod,
I plan the beauty and the pain,
The warm sunshine, the driving rain,
My grace sufficient for each need
Janet Martin
As I wrote the previous poem I recalled this one written years ago...
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