But If We Had No Silly Ways...

But if we had no silly ways

And we were all good and devout

Doing those things we know we should

…whatever would we talk about?

If no ill-fortune spilled its brush

No slip or stumble sought us out  

To keep us humble, as we blush

…whatever would we laugh about?

If we had everything we want

And didn’t need to do without

But every wish was fate’s command

What ever would we dream about?

...and if we had no rainy days

No disappointment-provoked pout

No wakened joys to prompt our praise 

Whatever would we sing about?

If we knew without being taught

And life’s unknowns were all poured out

And suffering, a foreign thought

Whatever would we pray about?

© Janet Martin

Yesterday we sisters and mom celebrated my oldest sister's 50th birthday with a tea-party at one of our houses. As 'Birthday-girl' posed for a photo I remarked 'still beautiful and slim'! Of course, this spawned a 'help, I'm getting fat'  conversation, one which our mother soundly scolded as she reminded us we are healthy and weight dare never be a god/idol or how are we to set an example for our young girls...!! (once a mother, always a mother;) She is right. None of us are over-weight but we live in an appearance-OBSESSED culture and the pressures to look a certain way are everywhere! As we chatted I realized if our lives were perfect we would have nothing to talk,laugh,dream,sing, pray about!

Of Life-happinesses and Heart-recesses

There’s a part of the heart where we keeps time’s postcards

Ever a measure of pleasure

But then, there’s a place deeper in love’s embrace

Where we store its sacred treasure

Life’s this-and-thats make for fine, friendly chats

‘Round evening’s dinner-table

We cannot keep one fair hour from sleep

The heart is a sweet, sacred gable

…for there we enfold moment-glitters of gold

Echoes of life-happinesses

Little girl-curls, boyish grins, laughter-swirls

Find their home in heart-recesses

We never can tell when love’s grieving farewell

Ushers from us what we’re seeing

While ever the heart in its uttermost part

Seals chapters into our being

© Janet Martin

Time's Touchdown

A quiet rush of ruby fills the air

Time’s touchdown spills in warbler-trills

We dare not linger where

We laid aside our busyness of care

To sleep and pray, for yesterday

Has no doorway from here to there

 The quick ability of tick-and-tock

Declares its might in dark to light

And petals on the walk

We change our plans; trust God for that and this

And none can force His hand, of course

We try; ah, foolishness

We have no choice; the frigate of an hour

Soon bears away both gold and gray

In muted moment-power

A quiet rush of ruby dissipates

The sun, like Heaven’s shepherdess climbs high

To pastures without gates

And we, its charge to keep cannot afford

To brood in chains for gilded strains

That yesterday has stored

© Janet Martin

This Grand Abyss

This grand abyss from whence a day is drawn then brushed away

Ignites scrawled shadows on the lawn and fills its dark with day

While we, the journeymen of hope and heartache deftly link

Our years upon Time’s beveled slope toward an Awesome Brink

My, my, the doorway to another day swings easily

Our dashing feet soon scar the street of mercy’s sympathy

And the abyss where all Time is, is vast and undefined

A drop within the eon of this Thing that slips our mind

We pile up books to teach or reach to places strange and far

We dream a little dream perhaps and wish upon a star

We drink our coffee, live, laugh, love and learn toward a Door

That when we have passed through no one can return anymore

We gaze in wonder at the thunder from a broken sky

Knowing full well we cannot quell what waits in yonder ‘nigh’

Ah, Lord of mercy, stir our souls; this awesome brink is sure

Eternity is more than endless nothings to endure

This grand abyss where future gives the filament to past

Is but a vapor on the air; a stair to what will last

Our diligence to recompense is not a futile quest

Thus we should strive each day we live to give it our best

© Janet Martin

Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. 1 Cor. 15:58

A Poet's Profession

Painting pictures

Free

For the Reading

Weaving wonder

With

Word-bleeding

Finding fortune

In

A flower

Ah, this is

A

Poems’ power

© Janet Martin

Jen's poem is such a feel-good poem for poets it inspires poetry:)