Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Of Rendering and Response





When you come like this;
Reaching through darkness to crack its hold
Rolling in purple mist-oceans, then gold
Melting on muted mosaics of sod
Waking the morning with your whispers, God

…when you come like this;
 Murmured from regions thought cannot descry
Breaking the ribbons that fetter the sky
Washing the world with pearled morsels of dew
 Dawn is a shadow of Eden; Time-new

When you come like this;
Drenching the old with never-before-seen
Rending the fold of unmapped in-between
Holy unveiling on earth’s failing banks
All we can do is trust You and give thanks

© Janet Martin

Let’s choose to go forth, not in fear but in trust and thanksgiving.
Man’s mustered threats can never supersede our God, not of dead, but the living!

Here is a glimpse of what awaits the evil man starting at verse 25 in Job 15...

 ...because he shakes his fist at God
    and vaunts himself against the Almighty,
26 defiantly charging against him
    with a thick, strong shield.
27 “Though his face is covered with fat
    and his waist bulges with flesh,
28 he will inhabit ruined towns
    and houses where no one lives,
    houses crumbling to rubble.
29 He will no longer be rich and his wealth will not endure,
    nor will his possessions spread over the land.
30 He will not escape the darkness;
    a flame will wither his shoots,
    and the breath of God’s mouth will carry him away.
31 Let him not deceive himself by trusting what is worthless,
    for he will get nothing in return.
32 Before his time he will wither,
    and his branches will not flourish.
33 He will be like a vine stripped of its unripe grapes,
    like an olive tree shedding its blossoms.
34 For the company of the godless will be barren,
    and fire will consume the tents of those who love bribes.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Living-tide




 
Here It is
Only This
Intangible thunder
Microscopic
Masterpiece
Mighty moment-wonder

Here It is
Soft, soft kiss
Grace allotted glimmer
Ere the past
Receives its cast
Where vast Bygones shimmer

Here It is
Burden-bliss
Weightless weight of hours
Where its blink
Of touch and think
Fades like fields of flowers

Here it is
Mercy-mist
Love’s unfettered raining
Moment-metered
Living-tide
Ever, ever waning

© Janet Martin

Overcome with Wonder...





 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Ps.8:3-4


Sometimes the only worship
I can whisper
Is, 'God be merciful
To me, a sinner’

© Janet Martin

"But the tax collector, standing some distance away, was even unwilling to lift up his eyes to heaven, but was beating his breast, saying, 'God, be merciful to me, the sinner!' Luke 18:13

Super-power





Today...
We will leap from tall orders
And fly through the dark
Go where we could not
Save for faith’s spark

Today we will conquer
Whatever it sends
Nothing is bigger
Than God’s will, my friends

Today we are able
Not through fresh and blood
But by the One
Who IS greatest; our God

© Janet Martin
 



Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling, and to make you stand in the presence of His glory blameless with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. Jude 1:24

Expecting Miracles...





We’ve come to expect you
A routine array
Of never-before-ness
We simply call Day

On your skin of mercy
We tattoo our shame
Daring to expect you
None-the-less, all-the-same

Prostrate parenthesis,
Of east-sky elation
Yet ever your sameness
Deserves celebration

…but we’ve come to expect you
And always, you’re there
Running your whispers
Through night’s thinning air

…and every morning
Since God’s ‘let there be’
You fill earth’s awning
With His majesty

We’ve come to expect you;
God-granted gold-gray
Of grace-gilded miracle
We simply call Day

© Janet Martin

Rife with breath-stealing lines there was one line in the poem below that made me stop and re-read it slowly...'the miracle of day'...


Late September
by
Amy Lowell
Tang of fruitage in the air;
Red boughs bursting everywhere;
Shimmering of seeded grass;
Hooded gentians all a'mass.
Warmth of earth, and cloudless wind
Tearing off the husky rind,
Blowing feathered seeds to fall
By the sun-baked, sheltering wall.
Beech trees in a golden haze;
Hardy sumachs all ablaze,
Glowing through the silver birches.
How that pine tree shouts and lurches!
From the sunny door-jamb high,
Swings the shell of a butterfly.
Scrape of insect violins
Through the stubble shrilly dins.
Every blade's a minaret
Where a small muezzin's set,
Loudly calling us to pray
At the miracle of day.
Then the purple-lidded night
Westering comes, her footsteps light
Guided by the radiant boon
Of a sickle-shaped new moon.


This poem is in the public domain.