Tuesday, March 25, 2014

What Is This Span of Seasons Strewn?





What is this span of seasons strewn
On sweep of sand or through rock hewn?
Of lily-laughter lacing dust
Or shadow tracing wander-lust
Daybreak climbs to high noon, then soon
Dusk pins the dark with crescent moon

What spins this sacred swoon of air
Where we press on…to what? To where?
Is this day-night-to-day a hoax
Of hours strung on sun-rise spokes
Before the west burns quietly
With one more page of history?

…and is the awe of nature’s best
Mere wonder-frames of moment-jest
or Miracles without a God?
Is Time but silliness of sod,
And all its battles that we brave
But for the glory of the grave?

Ah, what is this which rends the flesh
And mends the heart with loneliness?
If we are beasts without a soul
Then what is joy or living’s goal?
And is our guerdon Death, cold-grinned
As ashes drift upon the wind

…and then, is Calvary a tale
Of nothing but fireside regale?
Ah, what is life? Skin, blood and thought?
No, no! Touch earnestly Time’s sod
Life is the road that leads to God

© Janet Martin


Monday, March 24, 2014

His Name is Jesus




(I’ve used this title before but this Greatest Name of All Names bears repeating for ‘in him was Life and that life was the light of men’.

In Him was life
The One who died
Descended to be
Crucified

He who said,
They despised
And instead
Rejected, led
Jesus Christ

His flesh loathed, torn
They smote, spat, crowned


This One, Jesus
With ‘it is finished’
Set man free
Obedience
Conquered Death,
How can it be?

In Him was Life
The Light of men
A rockbound tomb
Could not contain

He broke death’s chains
Victorious
What is His name?
His name is Jesus

© Janet Martin

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." Matt. 1:21





Student Card





With new-born breath we are enrolled
Into the School of Life
Where no one is too young or old
To taste Time’s joy or strife

Life spills its lessons in the moil
Of toil’s everyday vaunt
Its students we, of sorrow’s spoil
Of have and hold and want

The hunger of life’s loss and love
Begins on birth’s first page
First touch, first step, first word, we move
From age to age to age

…as from one class we graduate
Only to humbly find
New lessons laid on learning's plate
To test heart, hand and mind

The Teacher is a tree, a child,
A thousand voices veiled
Within the winsome and the wild
Of battles won and failed

The Master is a loving God
Not harsh or cruel or grim
He scrawls our lessons on earth’s sod
To prove our need of Him

The wise take heed and ever learn
The wonder of it all
While foolish loathe, spurn and return
 A wasted, crumpled ball

Once more Time opens up its door
This day the Lord has made
Invites us to learn and explore
Toward our passing grade

© Janet Martin

I held a new-born recently marveling at her response to touch, her need as she whimpered in hunger...
Her Grandma shares a burden of sorrows for a daughter being tested beyond understanding, yet filled with joy at the wonder of new life; ah, the spectrum of life-lessons, intense, hard, beautiful...

Journey of A Mother's Heart as Her Daughter Turns Thirteen



 While I was picking up a few groceries on Sat. Victoria surprised me with a fresh Spring center-piece on the dining-room table.

(this week's Saturday muffins; carrot-raisin-nut)

A mother’s heart can tiptoe soft
The pencil-line shadow of Thirteen
Stretched all the way to the evergreen
As child, but not for long, waits for the bus

A mother’s heart can clench sweet agony
As floral cup touches lip
Where Thirteen discovers the friendship
Found in a cup of mango-tea

A mother’s heart can follow like a prayer
That arm-and-leg dreamer and dancer
As Time, ever a smooth romancer
Courts Thirteen without a care

A mother’s heart can break and heal
In one quavering inhale, exhale
Where Thirteen, tumult of smile-tear regale
Teeters twixt woman and girl

A mother’s heart can bend and bear
Love’s fabric, as Thirteen grins
Oblivious to worlds beneath a mother’s skin
And that long, slow, seamless tear

© Janet Martin

 Something about Thirteen that gets me every time! Victoria turned 13 a few weeks ago and suddenly she just seems older.



The Newness of Nothing New





There is nothing new of sun and rain
But on the other hand, how can that be?
This pastel backdrop rising from Time’s sea
Unveils before our gaze newness again

The wonder of new morning fills a scope
Where what is seen will soon be something more
Yet we must wait while newness draws the door
Ajar to filament of mortal hope

Summer and winter’s repetitious clime
Is nothing new, they say, yet from its sheen
A virgin hour unravels from a skein
Where none before have touched this thread of time

The moorland mead is bathed in burnished bronze
And we have never seen it quite like this
How just a bit of sun and morning mist
Transform night’s doleful dark to golden ponds

Nothing is new, said the old Prophet of yore
Perhaps ‘tis true in the grand scheme of things
But oh, the wonder that new morning brings
Stirs in the human heart new hope once more

© Janet Martin


 What has been will be again,
    what has been done will be done again;
    there is nothing new under the sun.
Ecclesiastes 1:9

Even in our 'nothing new's', there is so much 'new'!
 
'Oh mom', they laugh as I stare transfixed. 'It's just another sunrise!'
'No', I reply, 'It's never 'just another sunrise' because we have never seen this one before and we never will again so look, look long before it is gone...forever!'



Sunday, March 23, 2014

Thank-you Card





Light cleaves to air where just a while ago
Midnight clung to each ridge in boundless black
Dawn breathes its glory o’er time’s testing track
Grace scrawls deliverance in burnished gold

Creature complaint though common unto man
Falls mute beneath this ether evidence
Of God extending patient providence
Above this marred and sullied sorrow-span

…for morning is each longest night’s reward
Mercy does not withhold the hope of dawn
God holds love’s beacon as we journey on
And all that we can say is thank-you, Lord

© Janet Martin

 Worship the LORD in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth. Ps.96:9

Saturday, March 22, 2014

As Long as Earth Remains...





Raise up glad offering of praise and fill the air with song
The gracious Keeper of our days does not forsake His own
And He has promised nevermore to curse the ground again
Though we are rotten to the core and arrogant and vain

As long as earth remains, God said, I will not wipe away
Seedtime and harvest, summer, winter; night will turn to day
So lift hope’s hymn of gratitude; By God’s goodness man lives
And though his heart is wicked yet God’s gracious love forgives

Hallelujah, even as relentless winter seethes and moans
We will praise Him lest His worship rises from the stones
For as long as earth remains the Lord our God assures
Winter will turn to summer for as long as earth endures

© Janet Martin 

Gen.8:20-22...
 Then Noah built an altar to the LORD, and took of every clean animal and of every clean bird and offered burnt offerings on the altar. The LORD smelled the soothing aroma; and the LORD said to Himself, "I will never again curse the ground on account of man, for the intent of man's heart is evil from his youth; and I will never again destroy every living thing, as I have done. "While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, And cold and heat, And summer and winter, And day and night Shall not cease."

Yes, I'd Settle for Dandelions Too




"The first day of spring is one thing, 
and the first spring day is another.
The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month."
~ Henry van Dyke

Found the above quote on  Pamela's blog and needed to share it on this stormy Saturday morning...but if you're hungry for some spring pics hop over to her optimistic post:) She mentioned she would even settle for dandelions! I think here we would all settle for dandelions too...anything but white on white on white...

I'd settle for dandelions although I've tugged them tenaciously from each garden row
Or trampled without much appreciation, their sassy yellow-fellow grin
Our eyes are winter-weary, though we don smiles bravely stretched to cheery
We pine vehemently for tender touch of sun-warm kisses on our skin

I'd settle for rain-song rolling from leaves into gutters and gullies and eaves
And about that picnic we planned; I'd smile though it must be postponed a while
Spring vistas are darling and ever-green-sweet even when enjoyed from a window-seat
We crave vivid shades on the Artist's palette; to tease and please and beguile

Bedraggled bushes and mud on the mat; why, I would even settle for that
Because it simply means that earth is preparing for colors like green and gold
As rivers and streams rush and gush with the demise of winter's spent reams
While we kick off shoes and winter blues prepared to bid adieu to its cold

Janet :~)

Hubby just called to remind me that yesterday was March equinox meaning in 3 mos. the days start getting shorter!

...yes, I'd settle for dandelions!