A Self-help Exercise

Day 13 PAD Challenge; write a self-help poem.

Remember to
eat right,
take out the trash,
finish homework,
do laundry
pay the stash
of bills on the microwave...
remember of course
to pray
thanking God
for another day 
remember to pick up
the dry-cleaning, the kids
to pat your self on the back
because no one else did
remember to exercise,
oh, and to shower
remember to gather
for a dinner-hour
Remember to vacuum,
the house,
wash the car,
get groceries,
scrub bathtubs
oh, and rake the yard
but sometimes
when this list
feels like worn riff-raff
remember to
throw back your head
and laugh...
let it fill and thrill you
then oh, let it spill
up to the starlight
and out to the hill
feel its full measure restore
those old bones
feel how its pleasure
dissolves weary groans
Life is a list of
'do this and do that'
but always remember
to
take time to
laugh.

What? nothing makes you laugh??!!
Dare you to watch this without cracking a smile...

  

May you having a de-laugh-ful day:)

Janet~

A Self-help Poem

PAD Challenge; day 13

For today’s prompt, write a self-help poem. It can be written in the style of a self-help article or book. Or you can take it in a more subtle self-help direction.

If I help myself to the colors of love

and touch with awed reverence the gift of new day

If I pause to ponder the wonder of God

Spilling from heaven to thrill this meek clay...

If I stop to savor the air that I breathe

and drink from The Fountain we simply call grace

If I bear with honor the cross I receive

to  'fight the good fight and to finish this race'

...if I stoop to study the art of God's word

Forming the flower and filling the air

as over and over, each season is stirred

and over and over we gobble its fare

If I kiss the tender-warm face of a child

to touch the reminder that hope is not dead

If I slowly turn to see art dripping wild

From The Artist's paintbrush somewhere overhead

If I help myself to the whispers of Love

Not disregarding the things that I see

But knowing it spills from God's palettes above

Then I am a humbler and more thankful me

Janet~

 Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance?

 Who hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or being his counselor hath taught him? Isa. 40:12-13

...to whom then will we liken God? Isa.40:18

“To whom will you compare me?
    Or who is my equal?” says the Holy One. 

 Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
    Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
    and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
    not one of them is missing.

 Why do you complain, Jacob?
    Why do you say, Israel,
“My way is hidden from the Lord;
    my cause is disregarded by my God”? 

 Do you not know?
    Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
    and his understanding no one can fathom. 

 He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak. 

 Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall; 

 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.  Isa. 40: 25-31

Midnight Minstrel

The fog and rain exchange their doldrums for a stiff northerly squall

Tonight the dark is deep and lonesome though a skiff of starlets fall

And it seems we hear the moaning of a wanderer at loss

For he cannot find the leaf-song where the willow-timbrels toss

So the minstrel of the bower takes his fiddle and his bow

Lays them down among the flowers that have shed their summer-snow

Now he turns to tune the tempest; strikes the maple mandolin

Silver sparkles ‘neath the lamppost as a throng of stars join in

If the softer strains of summer must be done, then so it be

He hails to the restless drummer waiting where we cannot see

But without a second bidding he releases want and woe

Spilling to midnight marauders a silk canticle of snow

Charm, chimera and chimney smoke and unchained melodies

Of days gone by and autumn sky slips from his lips with ease

And suddenly the wanderer has found his rightful place

He fills the air with Christmas cheer and trims the trees with lace

We snuggle ‘neath our quilted covers, close to love or fire’s blaze

As we listen to the darkness where the midnight minstrel plays

© Janet Martin

November Eyes...

I am in love with you

You make my summer-heart race

Ever the moody fellow

With ponderous, beguiling face

Whether of gaze downcast

Or rugged, or scowling or blue

I can’t help myself

From falling

In love

With you…

You color the air that I breathe

The shade of your restless sighs

Broods outside my window

Until I get lost in your eyes

Then, you spill a reckless half-grin

Tease me with purple and gold

Some days a bashful urchin

And other days calloused and bold

Summer can never compete

Matador of sizzling romance

But you spill your tears at my feet

Lure me to forgive you and dance

Poet, philanderer, rogue

What is it about your eyes?

For I cannot resist you

My darling November skies

© Janet Martin

some crazily, cool sky goin' on today;)

Of Royalty and Robes

The paling sky has flung afar

Her robe that wore the evening star

And as She tossed its shroud away

Tomorrow then became today

Yester-morning’s mystery

Is now our latest history

The boys and girls of earth it seems

Are one day closer to their dreams

And now upon time’s sheer-less tide

A virgin ream of hours preside

Before Her gleaming gown is clenched

And its allowances are quenched

Here on earth’s porch beneath the sky

Our dearest hope should be to try

To take from heaven’s out-stretched hand

Her cloth, then do the best we can

For soon her gleaming filament

Returns the threads that Time has lent

Enfolding it to Past for aye

As today becomes yesterday

 

She never wears a hand-me-down

Each day a new and unsoiled gown

We ought to treat Her Royalty

With respect and humility

© Janet Martin

 Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Ps. 90:12

Two-for-two Tuesday

No, this is not a grand-baby; it is my friend's baby;)

Day 12 of Writer's Digest PAD challenge; It’s that time again. Time for another “Two for Tuesday” prompt. Do one, do the other, do both, whatever keeps you poeming this month:

1. Write a poem about your happiest moment. Well, doesn’t have to be yours actually. Just a moment that is someone’s happiest.
2. Write a poem about your saddest moment. Conversely, take happy, flip it, and make it the saddest moment.

After travail

A newborn wail

And the first breath

Of motherhood

She kisses with joy

Wee girl or boy

And whispers,

It is good,

It is good

…and she does not yet know

As she cradles and cuddles them so

That with that first kiss

Begins the lifelong

Bittersweet bliss

Of holding and

Letting go

© Janet Martin

Happy one month anniversary Rob and Emily.

The Cloud that Stirred the Sullen Sky is Gone...

The cloud that stirred the sullen sky

Is gone and where it touched the hill

The blue became so deep until

It brushed the little day awry

The leaf that scuttled o’er the park

Is tucked beneath a silver sash

The quiet night is all a-wash

With snowflake filament and dark

The moments we crushed in the wake

Of footprints scattered on the grass

Are sealed within an hourglass

That none can ever steal nor break

And all the woods are stark and bare

Where not so very long ago

We lay beneath the golden glow

Of autumn falling through our hair

The finger of fir tree and pine

Alone must strum the raven sky

And fill the night with lullaby

To taunt this summer heart of mine

© Janet Martin

It is so still save for a little whispering pine…

On This Tolling Tide of Seasons...

On this tolling tide of seasons

As the raindrop turns to snow

And we cannot halt the hasting

In life’s holding, letting go

Still beneath, above, around it

As Time’s fretting fingers steal

There is One whose love eternal

Keeps His hand upon the wheel

While we worry ‘bout the future

And the world-state of affairs

As we look about and wonder

*Where are men of courage; where?

Ageless is the loving promise

Everlasting Armistice

Nothing here can separate us

From the love of Jesus Christ

Though the battle-cry is grueling

And the price so hard to pay

Oh, this tolling tide of seasons

Carries us toward the day

When we will lay down our weapons

Like a tattered teddy-bear

Ushered through the gates of heaven

And there is no sorrow there

Thus we press with fervent passion

To a place certain, surreal

On this tolling tide of seasons

While mercy and grace appeal

And in turn we cling in fervor

To a blessed certainty

Where its sight will ever sever

Faith; In God’s eternity

© Janet Martin

*

Here is the final speech from the Courageous movie
    "There are some men who, regardless of the mistakes we’ve made in the past, regardless of what our fathers did not do for us, will give the strength of our arms and the rest of our days to loving God with all that we are and to teach our children to do the same—and whenever possible, to love and mentor others who have no father in their lives but who desperately need help and direction. And we are inviting any man whose heart is willing and courageous to join us in this resolution. God’s Word shows us that God desires for every father to courageously step up and do whatever it takes to be involved in the lives of his children. More than just being there for them or providing for them, he is to walk with them through their young lives and be a visual representation of the character of God, their Father in heaven. Who will accept the responsibility of providing and protecting my family? Who will ask God to break the chain of destructive patterns in my family? Who will pray for, and bless my children to boldly pursue whatever God calls them to do? 
In my home, the decision has already been made. You don’t have to ask who will guide my family because, by God’s grace, I will. You don’t have to ask who will teach my son to follow Christ because I will."


So where are you, men of courage? Where are you, fathers who fear the Lord? 
It’s time to rise up and answer the call God has given you and say, 
I will! I will! I will!