We Pass This Way but Once

 ( I do not know the author of the above quote, but I like it)

Poetic Bloomings indulges The Sonnet today.

We pass this way but once, no trial run

Time is a live-and-learning entity

It doles in moments its shadow and sun

While we accept that what must be will be

Do moments spiral; do they drip or glide?

Where is the fount of Time’s ceaseless discourse?

Without consent we join its forward-slide

Age keens the senses to its soundless force

Intangible, its urgent undertow

Stirs apathy to sudden consciousness

Of moment-dispensation’s virgin flow

Into the grasp of human wantonness

We pass this way but once and we must choose

The handling of pure moments; use, abuse

© Janet Martin

One Certainty Abides...

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt The Sonnet.


The SONNET is a poem, properly expressive of a single, complete thought, idea, or sentiment. It consists of 14 lines, usually in iambic pentameter, with rhymes arranged according to one of certain definite schemes. In the strict or Italian form it is divided into a major group of 8 lines (the octave) followed by a minor group of 6 lines (the sestet). An a-b-b-a, a-b-b-a pattern became the standard for Italian sonnets. For the sestet there were two different possibilities: c-d-e-c-d-e and c-d-c-c-d-c. In time, other variants on this rhyming scheme were introduced, such as c-d-c-d-c-d.
The English form break the poem into 3 quatrains followed by a couplet. Each line containing ten syllables and written in iambic pentameter, in which a pattern of an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable is repeated five times. The rhyme scheme in a Shakespearean (English) sonnet is a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g; the last two lines are a rhyming couplet. Alternate Rhyme Scheme: a-a-b-b, c-c-d-d, e-e-f-f, g-g

Future does not conform to fantasy

We cannot glimpse the portend of its will

Nor does it murmur hints of good or ill

We press in moments to its mystery

Desires of the heart will ebb and flow

And fickle are the wishes of our want

The past seeks to remind, to teach or haunt

The wise man learns to learn then let it go

One knows our future’s intricate design

While we were still a whisper in the womb

He shaped the numbered days of our bloom

Into His perfect will our wills resign

One certainty abides in our defense

From seeds of choice we reap its consequence

© Janet Martin

Of Grace, Hope and Truth

God’s truth is not annulled though centuries

Of sun and rain, of toil and spoil pass by

Though mortal passions rise; like summer’s breeze

Soon they are gone; to sleep beneath earth’s sky

An acorn struggles to its pinnacle

Time is the master of its little jot

The mighty oak tree, nature’s miracle

Crumbles to dust again and all is naught

But heaven’s truth; eternal and secure

Though generations pass; it shall endure

***

What is man’s hope beyond earth’s sullen grave?

What is the measure of moments that slip?

Earth’s transient gold and silver cannot save

Their worth is but a crumb upon the lip

God is not mocked; what He has said will be

And demons tremble at His Holiness

His sacred passion spans eternity

A fool despises Truth and Righteousness

His grace abides; we hope beyond life’s loss

Time cannot void the power of the Cross

***

Did heaven’s Darling die to save but few?

What is the hope sustaining mortal breath?

I could not breathe one joy, but for this Truth

His Grace will be enough in life and death

Failure would be man’s single Surety

But for a perfect Lamb to satisfy

The Love of He who died to set us free

And there are none who do not qualify

He died for sinners; sinners all are we

Time does not change this Truth that sets us free

***

His love is not a ball-and-chain duress

He does not bind us; no one is His slave

But servants we, in humble gratefulness

Choose to believe; His blood alone can save

Us from eternal hell; our just reward

But Perfect love beheld our hopeless dread

In Love’s compassion Jesus Christ the Lord

Offered Himself to die in our stead

In Him alone we know that we can face

Both life and death; for we are saved by grace

***

Eternity; a vast uncharted sea

Not marked by moments or hours or years

A day, a thousand years; how can it be

That they are equal where Time disappears?

This life is but a vapor on the wind

Soon we will bow the knee before His throne

As every earthly boast is left behind

Each man will meet his Maker one on one

And only we will answer for our Choice

Did we say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to Heaven’s Voice?

***

Three-score-years and ten or perhaps four

This is the span of man’s mortality

Dare we to turn our backs; coldly ignore

The Voice of He who died to set us free?

The fool says in His heart ‘there is no God’

Pity the one who chooses evil’s lie

Though ‘dust to dust’ claims flesh back to the sod

The soul within will not and cannot die

To all who accept His truth and believe

To them, eternal life they shall receive

***

Will we spurn hope’s lone Truth; challenge or laugh

At Love; and coldly spit against His face?

While mercy’s offering pleads on our behalf

And Love expands Time’s gasp and thus His grace

Will we in blind indifference ignore

The Call of He who paid our debt of guilt?

Will we despise His knocking on our door

And seal our fate; regardless of Blood spilt?

Oh, who can bear His Wrath when grace shall cease?

Or who can fathom Heaven’s sweet release?

 © Janet Martin

Little Boy

'There's no such thing as a bad boy' (Father Flanagan in Boy's Town)

We love you so

The freckle-nose

The mischief, spontaneity

The reckless grin

The dimpled chin

The well of curiosity

The cause and cure for mother’s woe

Oh little boy, we love you so

Robust and sun-tanned leap of joy

How we love you, little boy

Our pride and joy

Dear little boy

Mother’s laughter and her tears

So we hold you

And we scold you

Innocence soon sheds its years

Time has such quick impatient feet

Oh little boy, precious and sweet

We must train you while we can

For soon, too soon you’ll be a man

© Janet Martin

One of my all-time favorite movies is Boy's Town. (Spencer Tracey, 1938) for so many reasons.

I agree with him, there is no such thing as a bad boy...

a child learns from what he is taught by what he observes.

Train up a child in the way he should go: 

and when he is old, he will not depart from it.

Prov. 22:6 

Teach me how to Pray

Don't Let Go...

For every up there is a down

For every high there is a low

For every love there is someone

Hold my hand and don’t let go

For every joy, oh there is grief

With every wonder there is woe

For every bud there is a leaf

Hold my hand and don’t let go

For every smile there is a tear

For every tear there is a crown

For every hope there is a fear

For every up there is a down

For every triumph there’s despair

For every gain, something to lose

For every trouble there is prayer

It’s up to you and me to choose

For every high there is a low

Only, only love secures

Hold my hand and don’t let go

Hold my hand and I’ll hold yours

For every night there is a day

For every day a night to rest

For every doubt there is a way

For every better there is best

For every road there is an end

For every yes there is a no

And for each other, there’s a friend

Hold my hand and don’t let go

Oh darling, hold my hand

And

Don’t let go

J~

By Grace

My sins would bury me

As failure digs my grave

Doubt and guilt would jeer and sneer

And I would be a slave

To all the fortune it would boast

Discouragement, despair

Confounded to the uttermost

Crushed by its weight of care

But then, kind arms of mercy

Gather me in Love’s embrace

Banishing sin’s curses

I am a sinner

Saved

By grace

 

© Janet Martin

 For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:
Eph. 2:8

A Cup of Tea with a Friend...

We may travel the wide world over

North, south, from end to end

But it cannot measure the pleasure

Of a cup of tea with a friend

Many are life’s vast achievements

And many kind hands it extends

But none can replace the contentment

Of a cup of tea with a friend

© Janet Martin

Intangible Satisfaction

You warm me,

Not with cloak or shawl

Nor with sweaters of wool

Or quilted blankets

In nostalgic hue

But,

With the beautiful

Intangible

And ever irreplaceable

Thought of you

You touch me

Not with gentle brush

Of fingertips

Nor with the

Pleasing whisper

Of your lips

But you

Touch me

Like flesh can never do

In the beautiful,

Bittersweet

Satisfying

Thought of you

© Janet~