Thursday Thoughts of Praise

Thank-you God for eyes to see

The beauty of the winter tree

Serenely sketched, blue on white snow

Or etched against the sunset’s glow

You thrill our humble, hungry gaze

With nature’s tried and tested ways

And as each season sweeps the sod

We see glimpses of You, oh God

Thank-you God, for ears to hear

Your powers drench the atmosphere

Wind in the willow, free and wild

Pure, carefree laughter of a child

Each season-surge original

The moody midnight madrigal

The canticle of nature’s laud

Are whispers of Your voice, oh God

Thank-you God, for arms to hold

Our children when life’s storms are cold

For in the warmth their hug imparts

We feel You touch our heart of hearts

And we can bear the searing ache

Of moments when our hearts would break

But for the hands that reach to heal

The hurts only a heart can feel

Oh, taste and see the wonder of

The One who fills us with His love

Oh, taste God’s mercy and His grace

Redemption’s sweet, sweet promises

Oh, see and hear and touch and taste

The beauty of each moment’s haste

Drawing us nearer to the Light

When faith at last will become sight

© Janet Martin

See: For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. Romans 1:20

Hear: Then he said, "Anyone with ears to hear should listen and understand." Mark 4:9

Touch; He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Ps. 147:3

Taste: Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him. Ps. 34:8

Victoria and I were driving home around supper-time today marveling at God's beautiful handiwork ; the stunning simplicity of a winter's dusk. After supper I pulled up a blank page and jotted down the four lines that bounced their way home with me. As Victoria and I worked on some preparations for her birthday on Saturday every so often I would wander out and peg down a few more thoughts. By Victoria's bedtime I had 'felt' my way through the first two stanzas, but I didn't start with the 'touch' verse because there are so many, many things one feels; then Victoria stole up behind me, wrapped her arms around my neck, hugged me long and hard and whispered, 'Mom, I hope this hug writes a really good poem for you'; the next stanza fell from my finger-tips/heart before her touch cooled.

Oh God, tune my heart to sing your praise

and never let it falter

Teach me to fully trust Your ways

and lay mine on Your altar

Time-share

 

Mommy, will you read me a story?

In a moment, dear little son

I have some things I must finish first

But I’ll come when the work’s all done

Mommy, can I try to help you

So we can have some fun?

Son, run and play with your sister

Then I’ll come when the work’s all done

Mommy, can you throw this ball to me?

Not right now, precious son

Mother is in a hurry

To get her work all done

…she sits in a chair by the window

Waiting for her darling son

He says he is going to call her

Soon, when his work’s all done

© Janet Martin

No matter what stage of life we are in, we should only have time to love.

Make this day a memory you will be glad of.

Image Source

On Awareness

 

We ought to hold dearly

Fully and sincerely

These loved ones we cherish so much

For one never knows

When the curtain will close

As they slip from beneath our touch

We ought to love gladly

Because someday sadly

The light in those eyes will grow dark

We never know

When that last wind will blow

Snuffing life’s flickering spark

We ought to live truly

Rendering duly

Love’s moments; and not fret or fuss

For we never know

When we need to let go

Or when God may call for us

© Janet Martin

Empathizing...

 

Woman, O, woman what maketh thee tick
I wish I could tell you I don’t give a lick
But the truth, painful truth, when it’s all said and told
Is that keeping thee happy is worth more than gold

It don’t give me pleasure when yer ridin’ yer broom
But I’m mighty good at clearin’ out of the room
‘Cause when Ma’s on the war-path we jes’ better run
An’ stay out of the house til her stewin’ is done

Yesterdays words brought me smiles and a kiss
I tried ‘em today an’ I don’t know what it is
But I thought you was goin’ to bite off my head
So out through the back door I hastily fled

Woman, O woman, if I had what it took
I’d write one of them thar best-seller books
Cause I’ve lived with ye mor’en twenty year
An’ there’s things I ain’t never gonna figure out, I fear

Woman, O woman, I can’t understand
When God created you from the rib of a man
Why didn’t he take another rib as well
An’ create an’ instruction manual?

Just for fun;) to all you men!
Last night I gave my son a playful push when he complained that his sister is driving him CRAZY! Then I winked and I growly- whispered in his ear...'get used to it my dear, cause we women drive you guys crazy for a long, long time!First it's your mom and sisters, then its your girlfriend, your wife...' he laughed.
  And then there's  those poor dearest hubbies who really do have to learn how to roll with the punches; aka mood-swings:). I dug this poem out of the archives, because the other night hubby shook his head and said, 'I'm never, never gonna figure you out'. I felt a sincere wave of sympathy and empathy because I don't have myself figured out yet either.

When a Poet Dies

When a poet dies

Even nature hangs its head

Mourning with earth’s fellow-men

For the artist that is dead

Honor-rendered beauty

Beneath his touch is still

No more are we delighted

By the nuance of his quill

When a poet dies

We cling to what remains

His heart spilled into images

And word-whispered refrains

Ah, when a poet dies

He leaves a legacy

Of tender, timeless portraits

Woven into poetry

© Janet Martin

A 'poetic-bloomer' has passed away. Our hearts, prayers and sympathies go to his family and loved ones.

Rest in peace Dyson Douglas Mcillwain

Sun-whispers...a Quatrain Cascade Poem

 (we are having our first serious sun-whispers of the season;)

I snitched the first stanza of a poem I wrote last night to try another Cascade poem. Poetic Bloomings is show-casing the cascade form today.

Sun-whispers softly grin

Where winds mutter, blue-cold 

And so this tug-of- war begins

Twixt gray and azure-gold

We long for the kind kiss

Of summer on our skin

And dusty lanes of bare-foot bliss

…sun-whispers softly grin

The dismal monotone

Of woodland's naked fold

Makes a body feel alone

Where winds mutter, blue-cold

Gold puddles warm the earth

Nudging the seed within

The womb of Mother’s nature’s girth

And so this tug-of-war begins

The firmaments declare

Winter is growing old

A duel provokes the air

Twixt gray and azure-gold

© Janet Martin

His Loving Proof

Poetic Bloomings invites us to attempt the Cascade form

(use each line in your first stanza as the last line in each following stanza)

The whisper of a new day yearns

On morning’s far ephemeral brink

The velvet veil of midnight’s deep

Dons pastel borders of soft pink

The past whereon we dreamed and danced

Is sealed, no refunds, no returns

But oh, the grace of second chance

…the whisper of a new day yearns

From astral streams hope’s halo beams

Time dips its quill into love’s ink

It’s signature of mercy gleams

On morning’s far ephemeral brink

The gossamer of purple mist

Embellishes the supine sweep

Of slumber’s bliss; mute murmurs kiss

The velvet veil of midnight’s deep

Ah, what is man that God approves  

Our offerings of splattered ink

His grace in glorious, loving proof

Dons pastel borders of soft pink

© Janet Martin

 When I consider your heavens,
    the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars,
    which you have set in place, 
 what is mankind that you are mindful of them,
    human beings that you care for them?

Ps. 8: 3-4

Arabesque Allure

Boldly you stare

Silver, like air

And lure me with

Beguiling grin

Ghostly you gloat

And like a fur coat

You beg me to slip in

To you, and do

Those things you ask

But this is not

Some plebeian task

That you dangle

You preen the bait

Sweet spangles

Tempting me to taste

And yield

But I embrace

The gift of grace

And hold it high

My sword and shield

For it protects me

From your charm

And guides me gently

On His arm

Leading me in

Each step I take

For you

Bad, sad habit

Are hard to break

© Janet Martin

Sometimes I still am tempted to stay up half the night 

and write, 

but it is a habit I have tried to break 

so I can be a nicer person during the day!;))

Tonight words whisper in my head

But I will…oh I will…

Go to bed.