Saturday, January 18, 2014

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!!!
 

 



Friday, January 17, 2014

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~

Thursday, January 16, 2014

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