Beautiful Blessing

You touch me and tease me

Console and cajole

You know how to reach to

The depths of my soul

I wander, I squander

And ponder your worth

For you are a drifter

Yet salt to the earth

You ravage my senses

Barter with my heart

You are the painter

Of thought’s tender art

You chatter and chortle

You plead and you moan

You flow like the ripple

Of brook over stone

You speak every language

You know every mood

You comfort and nurture

You beckon and brood

For you are a soul-mate

Of perfect passion

A river of longing

And satisfaction

 You cause me to wonder

To laugh and to weep

Your tender-sweet murmur

Will lull me to sleep

You are my hunger

And my coming home

You are the beautiful

Blessing of a poem

© Janet Martin

The Darkness...

 

The darkness covers up the hills

And fields of spring’s first, fairest green

It mutes the outline of frothed rills

And snuffs the blue from rambling stream

The darkness croons a lullaby

To those who pause to hear its tune

It trickles from the sable sky

And ripples from the crescent moon

The darkness splays its solitude

In layered shades of ebony

The rush of middle-day subdued

By minstrels that we cannot see

The darkness tucks this day to naught

A glint in history’s diadem

All that remains are lessons taught

And what we choose to do with them

© Janet Martin

Slowly it obliterated the familiar beneath its soundless descent...

When the Tea-kettle Sings

Sometimes when the tea-kettle sings

I think of life’s most lovely things

Of mint leaves sprouting by the brook

Of poetry sipped from a book

I think of summer garden-strolls

The midnight wind as it cajoles

And vexes poplar tress and thought

I think of spring’s forget-me-not

The laughter of a child at play

The whispering of willow’s sway

The pit-and-patter melody

Of rain and night-song harmony

I see the home-scenes of the past

A farm-girl who grew up too fast

Of kitten's hiding in the loft

With velvet tongues all pink and soft

I think of August's dog-day noon

The sultry haze of locust tune

I hear a tender lullaby
And baby coos of days gone by

Sometimes when the tea-kettle sings

I feel the joy of simple things

A soulful, sweet serenity

When the tea-kettle sings to me

© Janet Martin

  

Here in the Morning...

Here in this morning’s quiet hour

Where rain consoles the budded limb

And sings across spring’s verdant bower

I lift my song in praise to Him

Here in the morning’s hallowed hush

Before the daybreak takes command

And duty hands to me its brush

I reach to touch the Master’s hand

Here in the morning’s muted mist

I cannot see what will unfold

Before this little day is kissed

And tucked into Time’s ether hold

Here in the morning’s silver-blue

Where pitter-patter anthems weep

I breathe a tender prayer for you

And pray the Lord your way to keep

© Janet Martin

...often I pray the Lord to bless those who pause on this porch today. J~

I Love You Too

 

As they sugar our faces with kisses and smiles

And whisper ‘I love you’

Love eases the weight of life’s weary miles

As we reply ‘I love you too’

Life is a volley of testing and trust

Hope is a long avenue

Yet, we bear gladly those things we must

Just to say ‘I love you too’

These four most wonderful words in the world

Are better than three, tis true

For it’s when those three best words are told

That we reply ‘I love you too’

© Janet Martin

Last night it was Victoria who replied, 'I love you too'. I asked her if she realizes that she just said the four most beautiful words in the world. She thought for a few moments then smiled, She understood, to say those four words we must first hear three 'I love you'.

...unless of course its a teenager then you might still get three mumbled word replies...'love you too'

He Will Come Again...

The truth abides; we do not hope in vain

One thing remains in Love’s eternal plan

In clouds of glory; Heaven’s Son of Man

As He has gone away will come again

Lift up those weary feet; do not despair

Though scoffers scoff and doubting doubters jeer

We do not labor for man’s glory here

Someday the Son of Man will fill the air

And every knee will bow low to the sod

And every tongue confess that He IS God

As in the days of Noah, long ago

God tells us this is how the end will be

Few will believe; living in vanity

But what He promised surely will be so

This is the day of grace; do not delay

For just as He ascended He will come

To take the wretched, ransomed sinner home

There is no second chance on Judgment Day

Look up; for lo, deliverance is here

And soon the Son of Man will re-appear

The Shepherd knows His sheep; the Groom His Bride

But grace and mercy plead on our behalf

He died so we may live; the careless laugh

Love pours more Time into this vapor-side

For He desires that none should be lost

Time trembles on an ephemeral string

Eternity is such an awesome thing

We cannot comprehend denial’s cost

Dare we the blood-shed love of Jesus spurn?

As He has gone away He will return

© Janet Martin

Happy Ascension Day to all!


May we live with this in mind; He is coming soon!

What's Missing?

   

Image Source   (...and info on program)

The facts are book-written

To teach and re-tell

Tell me, what is missing

In the message we sell

The facts fill graveyards

Penitentiaries

But somewhere we’re failing

Miserably

The facts do not lie

The writing’s on the wall

Yet something is missing

In spite of it all

The facts speak in rhetoric

Of verbose truth

Why is the message

Lost on our youth?

The facts are there

In word well-designed

But a trusted example

Is much harder to find

© Janet Martin

Let’s set an example our kids can follow!

I was looking through my daughter's D.A.R.E. book filled with facts teaching our school-kids the dangers of drugs, alcohol, smoking and how to deal with peer-pressure when confronted with the choice of yes or no. This book is packed with examples of situations and what to do or what not to do. I also see many of these kids who took the course a few years on…somewhere the message is being lost, not on all but on too many! Why? Part of me admits a sad answer, again not all but too many…bad examples.

 …But be you doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves. For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like to a man beholding his natural face in a glass: For he beholds himself, and goes his way, and straightway forgets what manner of man he was. …James 1: 22-24

Of Home...

  

Image source

May home be more

Than a roof overhead

Or a place to sleep and eat

As living’s footprints

Come and go

Oh, may its echoes be sweet

May home be a place

Not just to pass through

On our way to the great big world

But, of may it be

A solace where

Love’s banner remains unfurled

May home be more

Than just a word

Of love and family

May it be the hearth

Where once you learned

Of God at your mother’s knee

© Janet Martin