When the Dark Creeps In...(and some belated Thurs. thoughts)

When the dark creeps in

Like slow discontent

Over hope’s gilded banks

And we would despair

But for God’s care

Filling its gaping blanks

When sighs and woes

Of life’s highs and lows

Cover its gold with gray

Still, as we give thanks

The dark on hope’s banks

Softly melts away

© Janet Martin

Thursday passed too quickly so here is a belated weekly splash of thoughts garnered from lessons I'm in the middle of learning;)

Everything we do is futile
if done for man
Nothing we do is futile
if done for God~

***

Joy increases
as want decreases
if we count our blessings~

***
Everyone loves to be loved
especially the unlovable
...and we are all unlovable at times

***

There are few pleasures greater
or more pure
than the laughter of a little child

***
There are few joys greater
than feeling forgiven
and knowing it; when your teen-ager smiles;) 

***
If we want to dance in the rain
we must learn to kneel
in the sun

***

Trust is that thing
we never fully recognize
until it threatens to leave

***

Yesterday I searched for information
on how to get information
on this Information Age

***

Love is mundane
only when we put
ourselves first

***

Beautiful, Brazilian ecstasy
found in the coffee
you poured
for me!

***

 I must go...
The rod of Duty
taps in humble,
household beauty:)

Have a blessed week-end!

We have been without couches in our main living-room for almost a month! With all the crazy weather shipment was delayed. Today we hope to pick them up; yay!!!
 

 

Why the Extra Fuss?

Someone special is coming to dinner, I say

And when they ask me who

I can’t help but grin a little

At their expressions as I reply, ‘you!’

© Mom/babysitter aka Janet

  

Then...

No tick of clock

No swift season-sweep

No moments pulsing

No waking, no sleep

No flesh and blood

No years fading fast

No dawn or dusk

Nor future nor past

 

No indifference

No unbelief, scorn

Nobody dies

And no one is born

No hypocrites

and no debate

When we pass through

That Final Gate

   

Then,

Heaven or hell

Is all there will be

In the home of the soul;

Eternity

© Janet Martin 

 Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. The earth and the heavens fled from his presence, and there was no place for them. Rev. 20:11

Age-old Analysis

 I was sorting a bunch of photos into folders and realized, no wonder winter feels long this year! It had an early start.(yet, I find it hard to believe we are over half-way through January already!)

So long ago it seems the trees shrugged autumn’s coat from shoulders bare

Prepared to don snow-shawls and collars trimmed with ice-lace fare

The silver-green of morning sheen shimmers in memory

Or recollection of a season drenched in poetry

The little brook that plays its winter-tune in hollow-nook

Longs for the generosity of sunbeams in her crook

Those crimson maple leaf pontoons are shriveled on her banks

Where dusk is swift to lay long shadows in blue frozen planks

Time loves to toy with poet-pens and little girls and boys

Its playthings scattered like the aftermath of childish joys

And we sift through its remnants searching for something to keep

If only in a poet’s rhyme or whispers ere we sleep

The hedge that holds the nest once held the eggs and baby-bird

But, ever in the pulsing heart a keener cry is heard

To press toward the sky where gleams a Thing in perfect form

Earth’s creature bent on suffering a dreamer’s silent storm

Many a year has passed, my love, and many a year may come

Of green-leaf tree and snow-bound lea on time’s frolicking loam

As we, ever the hunters cannot keep from falling prey

To spring-summer-fall-winter as a lifetime slips away

© Janet Martin

..back to muffin-mixing and other winter pleasures I dearly enjoy:)

Of Things Uncommon

 

Somewhere night’s gentle quiet pales

And from the far horizon hails

Life-lines, familiar yet quite new

…this day unlike our other few

For it has never warmed the lane

Before; and never will again

The pace of moments does not still

But molds the old with new until

Our farewell to earth’s common sod

As we go on to meet our God

Now, common morning sweeps earth’s shore

But never quite like this before

Soon trampled underfoot, its spoil

Through sabers of mute moment-moil

Will snag the hedge and tease our grasp

Whilst shaping memories we clasp

As Time is bent with the delight

Of common morning, noon and night

We do not live in days or years

But in moment-to-moment spheres

Ah, weaver of lifetimes; its ilk

Slips through the air in ether silk

Of dark and light; say, what is this

That warms the midnight with its kiss?

Is nothing new under the sun?

Aye, nay; yet virgin, every dawn

See how it softly seeps, unmarred

As we embrace her dancing card

This thing, so common unto men

Will never pass this way again

© Janet Martin

Sound of Midnight~

Sound of midnight fills the sky

Satin-opaque lullaby

Wind-song, vagrant and footloose

Slipping from moon-spangled noose

To ramble night’s argent hall

Spreading silence like a shawl

Save for sighing evergreen

Waving its four-season sheen

As fresh moments fall away

Jetty on ebony quay

Smooth and still its sonnets spill

Moon-halo, opiate trill

Tempest torn from its rampart

Waging, raging in the heart

And the air, tattooed with dark

Petrifies the snowflake spark

Amplifying somber hush

As a thousand echoes rush

Where sound of midnight fills the deep

And we would miss if fast asleep

J~

Of Good, Old Days I Miss~

Sometimes when winter winds howl blue

In every wee crevice

I pour a cup of ‘missing you’

And sit to reminisce…

And while I tromp its paradise

I see what yet remains

Of laughter in hope’s azure eyes

Music of midnight rains

The melody of holding on

Before the letting go

And knowing night precedes the dawn

Of what we come to know

I cherish home-fire vim and verve

And revel in the kiss

Of blessing I do not deserve

In spite of what I miss

Those daisy fields will bloom once more

And winter will fall prey

To Time’s bantering troubadour

Where sun-soft shadows splay

Stirring in throats of bluebell swell

…pastel forget-me-not

Flinging its foray to the dell

In periwinkle thought

For season-rivers ever roll

In tender give and take

Its echoes cavort and cajole
Across past’s frozen lake

And oh, I am not prone to weep

For what has slipped from me

We touch and taste, but cannot keep

Save, for its memory

But,

Sometimes when the wind howls blue

I pause to reminisce

…and then, my dear I think of you

And good, old days I miss~

© Janet Martin

Emily spent the other day here...at home:) It reminded me of what I miss while still being 100% happy for her!

Praise the Lord

We are enjoying a slice of Alberta Clipper today, so in my reading this morning the words, ice morsels, snow, hail, wind, frost, caught my eye:)
It's timely that I was reminded to PRAISE THE LORD!

Praise the Lord; do not withhold the due of Heaven’s hand

For snow and frost and storming wind fulfill His kind command

Sun, moon and stars His might declare, established in a realm

That cannot be surpassed; save He who reigns supreme in heav’n

Praise the Lord; He heals the blind and sets the prisoner free

The wound of broken-hearts He binds; lift up your melody

To He who numbers all the stars and holds the widow near

He watches o’er the fatherless and counts their sorrow-tear

Praise the Lord; ‘the wicked’, He declares, ‘I will destroy’

The cedar and the fruit tree and the mountains shout for joy

The Lord takes pleasure in the righteous; He prepares the rain

And makes the grass to grow and brings the bud to bloom again

Young men and women, old man, child; come now and praise the Lord

He casts forth ice like morsels then He melts them with His word

The Lord delights in those who hope upon his steadfast love

Happy, happy the people who believe in God above

© Janet Martin

Inspired by Psalms 141-150