What of this Vast Unknown?

Writer's Digest PAD Challenge, day 15; For today’s prompt, take the phrase “What (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

We balance on a fulcrum twixt

What is to come and what is past

This paper cup that we lift up

Will snare wee drops of unknown’s cast

And then we drink; Unknown to known

Our footsteps fraught with faith or fear

From mystery to memory

While still the Unknown hovers near

Perception’s possibilities

Inspires us to dream, explore

We paint the passion of our pleas

On castle wall or prison floor

Yet, we are never nearer to

Unknown’s elusive clarity

Confined it seems, to dream our dreams

On what is past and what will be

What of this vexing, vast Unknown?

Its fantasy perplexes thought

Yet, we are ever poised upon

What yet will be and what can not

Fear would persuade my dreams to die

Save for our God upon His throne

Therefore, by His blessed Grace go I

Into the vexing, vast Unknown

© Janet Martin

What is It?

PAD Challenge, day 15

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “What (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: “What Luck,” “What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas,” “Whatever You Say,” and so on.

What is this thing that drives us to

The tarmac of another day?

A desperation gentle, true

That drives us to our knees to pray

What is this force that rushes through

Our beings; violent, soft as dove

Compelling us to hold, let go…

Oh, I think it must be love

© Janet Martin

 

Ink-Allies

We share a bond

You and I

We know what it is

To wander the sky

In search of a perfect word

To jot

The taste, sound, touch

Of a thought

We share a kin-ship

Unlike any other

Knit together

Like sister or brother

Because we suffer

Unlike other men

Beneath the calling

Of the pen

With ink we bleed

While others sleep

We bear the need

To dredge the deep

Not for the loot

The miser hoards

But for the fruit

Of perfect words

© Janet Martin

Exploring...Love

 Writer's Digest PAD Challenge, day 14

For today’s prompt, write an exploration poem. Maybe you’re exploring a new land, the depths of quarks, outer space, the mind, the soul, etc. Your call. In fact, it could be said that most poems are an exploration of one sort or another. So get at it.

Sometimes it is not enough

To search your eyes behind closed doors

Sometimes I need to touch, taste, feel

The moment- melody that pours

Tossing in disarray the leaf

Or teasing tender grass with frost

And then my little unbelief

Repents; Belief returns full force...

The exploration of Your thought

Has no beginning and no end

Beneath dusk’s painted skies, my God

I know I’ll never comprehend

The fullness of Your wonderment

No one can claim Your highest praise

For who has ever touched the tent

Vaulting above man’s meager days

…and who has placed their wooded jot

Of tree against the evening air

Or spoken to fruition, thought

To explore You, God; who can dare

Then place their trust in lowly dust?

Ah, sometimes it is not enough

To search your eyes behind closed doors

Sometimes I need to touch Your Love…

© Janet Martin

“Look, oh look at the beauty of it” I begged her to take her eyes off of the gadget in her grasp. “Look at the way the light falls, outlining every tree in gold; look at the vivid shades of Creation! Who, on their own could dream such beauty? Oh, what an honor to be called to serve such a God as this.”

 Last night and this morning beneath the big sky the words of David whispered to me, 'when I consider the heavens....what is man that you visit him?

 

Thursday Thoughts

Life is a battle of choices

They break us or make us strong

But we should weigh well our responses

Because Eternity is long

***

Life is a glimmering twinkle

How sad to choose the wrong

To savor a pittance of moments

When eternity is so long

***

The gods of this world cannot save us

One true God saves everyone

Today is the day of grace and salvation

Tomorrow we could be gone

And Eternity is long…

***

No man can serve two masters

We choose who we serve, not with voice

Yet no one conceals their answer

For action reveals the heart’s choice

***

Sing a song of gladness

In the wilderness

Nothing lasts forever

Except God’s promises

***

Do not despair, fellow-traveler

Though perhaps we’ve done wrong

Even a stumble if we are humble

Can serve to make us strong

***

Guilt

Yesterday you yelled at me

And I yelled back; I hang my head

For all the perfect, pious words

Cannot erase those words I said

Redemption

Yesterday I wept to hear

Another Voice tenderly say

For You I died and with my blood

I washed your hopeless guilt away

***

This never-ending thought

Almost too much to bear

I realize in sudden peace

Is my deep heart-held prayer

***

We cannot control the actions

Of those who are angry and cuss

But oh, our reaction

Is entirely up to us

***

Do not despise life’s testing flame

Nor question God’s desire

Gold is refined, not on the crown

But only in the fire

***

Pity the one whose life is spent

Serving the man in the mirror

The god of self is never content

And ever joy’s sad superior

***

This is no ordinary thing

That rends the morning sky

This is the day the Lord has made

Then gave to you and I

 ***

We ought to pray

Yet, never shirk

The diocese

That we call

Work

***

Change is not some sweet future endeavor

Where dreamland waters flow

Change is the action of those who labor

Here in the very now

***

Tall grew the walls that he built to the skies

To protect him from life’s punch in the chin

Too late he looked up to realize

That somehow he had barred himself in

© Janet Martin

Tomorrow...

You are the poem I will never quit writing

For I cannot see you the way I long to

Miles fill the hollow between us, my darling

And are your eyes brown; are the green; are they blue?

The words to spell you have not yet been created

Rush of the wind and sun-sparkle of sea

Dew on the midnight and mist of the morning

Kilimanjaro as dusk bathes its lea

Sometimes I picture you having your coffee

Slipping from flip-flops to stroll on the beach

But over and over though I feel you near me

You are the poem still out of my reach

Sanguine of summer and sweep of the ocean

Whisper of wanting as I feel you sigh

Samurai sunsets and love in slow-motion

Willing your kisses to fall from the sky

You are the poem that keeps on inspiring

The hunt is the thrill of it; yes, it is true

Miles cannot keep hearts apart, oh my darling

Are your eyes brown; are they green; are they blue?

© Janet Martin

To Whom It May Concern...

They are our greatest charge

Their winsome innocence

Is shaped by what they see and hear

By we, their first conscience

They are life’s greatest joy

And they deserve our best

Each precious little girl and boy

Depends on each of us

They are the best there is

Look long into each face

And never dare to choose something

That gives them second-place

They are a holy charge

How swift the little flight

From cradles and sweet mother’s arms

To forge their way in life

They are the future; oh,

Be patient, love them, then

Remember today’s children are

Tomorrow’s women; men

© Janet Martin

Oh, how often I fail, but I will not quit!

 Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.Prov. 22:6

Half of the Harvest In...

As I drove home this morning there seemed to be an urgency in the sound of the combines and tractors.  This has been a drenching fall and many fields are still waiting to be harvested. Today the ground is frozen and they can finally get into the fields.
...this half-harvested field evoked a bigger picture in my thought...

What if the Lord of the vineyard

Weary of sickness and sin

Called us to ‘Come’ and we only

Have half of the harvest in?

What if we looked up to see Him

Pull back the Great Doors of Heav'n
And then saw the fields, still heavy
With only half of the harvest in

...and what if He left while we stood there
Shocked to see what could have been
If we had not waited with only
Half of the harvest in

Janet~


 Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness.  When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.  Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” Matt. 9: 35-38