Closed Corridors

The perils of a pen and script

Can keep one fearful and tight-lipped

Lest one brave touch unveils the art

In corridor from head to heart

Where we try hard to keep intact

Those love-scarred walls of all we lack

But on a night of pale moonlight

When all is still save for the flight

Of mist-maned breeze lolling in trees

Thus stirring want and memories

It is not hard to yield one’s will

To invitations of a quill

I cannot speak with pen and ink

Those thoughts I hardly dare to think

And yet within me pounds a surf

Of poetry on guarded turf

Where I am too fearful to tread

…that corridor from heart to head

© Janet Martin

So It Goes

 Yesterday was one of those days I didn't want to end...but it did. My niece and her fiance(his family also friends of ours) got married. I love weddings! so much. As I listened to the speeches it struck me again how precious each day is and the memories we take from them as they take their place in The Past.

So it goes; life’s highs and lows

Are brushed to closures ether-wrought

Where the refrains of what remains

Unchains their strains in naught but thought

So it goes; one season flows

Into the next; a seamless spawn

Where laughter, tears, despair and cheer

Soon disappears in years bygone

So it goes; the bud, the rose

Will soon compose their after math

Where we return to learn or yearn

For petals scattered on Time’s path

So it goes; the zephyr blows

Where clocks disclose life’s give and take

We cannot cling to anything

Save for the memories we make

© Janet Martin

This God We Ought to Love

 More messages of God and Love here 
and here

This God we ought to love

Because He loved us first

Seems to be pushed way back in line

By other gods death-cursed

This God we seek to love

In ways hard to express

Knows our heart of heart and thus

Knows what we should confess

This God we yearn to love

But fumble in our reach

Forgives, His love is strong enough

To test and try and teach

This God is grace and love

And pleads on our behalf

Through Jesus Christ we can be saved

From death’s eternal wrath

This God is Love supreme

No other god can boast

A love so great that it saves souls;

Redemption’s uttermost

This God of gods is love

Though oft perceived unjust

He knows and calls each one by name

For He created us

For this great God of love

For all our shame and sin

Desires our love so we

May learn to love like Him

© Janet Martin

 All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. John 1:3-5

Of Fullness

Don't you just love this season of 'first leaf'?! The trees are like giant umbrellas and the other day this branch BEGGED for a swing(after I bumped my head on it once too often) so we made a one-of-a-kind pillow-swing. The little guys I baby-sit are delighted as they fight for turns;))

The tree is full of leaf

The morning full of spring

The throat of bird is full of song

The hour full of wing

The sky is full of blue

The earth is full of June

Thought’s poetry is full of praise

For bud is full of bloom

The hand is full of touch

The soul is full of need

Our eyes are full of the offspring

Where thought is full of seed

The dream is full of child

And hope is full of prayer

The heart is full of gratitude

For God is everywhere

© Janet Martin

The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. Psalms 24:1

Little guy I babysit: 'Janet, why did God make robbers?'

Janet, after thinking for a moment: 'God made people, and we choose to become...'

....a few minutes later,

Little guy: 'Janet, what do you call a polar bear in a jungle?'

Janet, after thinking a few moments; 'I have no idea'

Little guy, with a twinkle in his eye; 'lost'

...the child is full of questions and we are full of laughter:) and  grave responsibility as they weigh our responses.

Reminder of Who We Are

 This garden always begins with irises...

The hours like flowers unfold

…a garden of season-span

Where Time’s array of gray and gold

Silences little man

For boldest endeavors of thought

Gifted by One greater far

When placed beside a little bloom

Reminds us who we are

© Janet Martin