Time's Other Side

Today we stand on Time's out-stretched hand...

But Time is subtle, sinking sand

While we make plans we would be wise

to look beyond what satisfies

this mortal tent in which we bide

until we reach time’s other side

The plans we ponder here below

are subjected to change, we know

But, One appointment waits astride

this passage to time’s other side

Without a doubt someday we’ll stand

before Love’s reaching nail-scarred hands,

Will we ignore this certain tide

that leads us to time’s other side?

Time’s other side of timeless deep

cups this wee gasp of moment-sweep,

Earnest, sincere we should prepare

while on this side of ‘over there’

© Janet Martin

 Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned. Mark 16:16

Midnight's Battle-wounds

The middle night is dark and deep and sages sleep while poets fight

Rife tides that never slumber but humbly beseech their hands to write

And so they do, sail out into a frost-fraught solitude where thought

Is stirred and drifts from word to word to find the very one it sought

The middle night is like a lake and moments break in ripples where

The frigate of vast centuries is harbored in its laden air

The undertows of highs and lows tug at a poet’s searching pen

To spill from quill the tempest-will of tug-of-warring minds of men

The middle night unbars the stars soldered by daylight’s polished poise

Now torrents of both loss and love thunder through thought without a noise

Then, softly falls upon the page, its madrigals of ageless age

Like blood-drops from the battle-wounds in wars that only poet’s wage

© Janet Martin

As In Olden Days, Dusk Splays...

As in olden days dusk splays it wonderment on western hem

And we are awed by Holy God and twilight’s lavish diadem

Then, suddenly time’s spending spree is hushed it seems where glory gleams

In satin streams and all our dreams are dull beneath day’s dying reams

…as here and now become somehow not far removed from days of old

Beneath the sweep of coral deep where progress cannot alter gold

Of heaven vaults and man exalts, not other men, with breath-some praise

But pauses awed by Holy God for His vast and unfathomed ways

…and as in olden days, we gaze and cannot find a curve of ink

To tell full-well how twilight spells farewell in swells of ether pink

To this blue dot of unforgotten desperation; man looks up

To see a sea of majesty spill rampantly from Heaven’s cup

© Janet Martin

Emily dropped in on her way home this evening, knowing my love of sunsets and said, mom, there's a sky happening that I think you'd like to see' so Melissa and I hopped in the van and drove up the road, (we can't see sunsets from our place) to a place where we paused, awed by God, just as in olden days...photos never do Him justice!!

 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Ps.19:1

Of Christmases Past...

 This is a collage from Christmases past...still waiting for them to be home so we can decorate the tree together! I'm keeping my fingers crossed (aka praying!!) that maybe tonight before Matt's hockey-game and after Melissa decides she's not going back to TO(Toronto) to visit friends...we can do it.

Someday my child, your thoughts will fill with scenes of long ago

I wonder what you’ll find within their Time-amended glow

When you look back someday, to tender-heartedly recall

The Christmases of childhood; what will deck your memory-hall?

Will it be gifts or The One Gift that makes your joy-bells ring?

Ah, will the windows of your mind be filled with tender things?

Will they be scented with the warmth that only kitchens boast?

I wonder, child, when you look back what you’ll remember most

Will it be sugar, spice and firesides or will it be

The night we all would gather ‘round to decorate the tree?

Or will it be the carols that spark tender thoughts of home

I wonder child, when you look back what memories will come

Today as I prepare to celebrate the Christ-child’s birth

Lord, help me in this corner to bring peace upon the earth

And not with rushing, pushing, panic-stricken sigh unfurled

Forget the reason for this season of Joy to the World

Child, someday when you turn to peer through window-frames afar

I hope the pictures that you see will cheer you where you are

Those ginger-scented echoes, oh, I hope they’ll make you smile

But most of all I hope that you’ll remember Christ the Child

© Janet Martin  

Reflections and Ripple Effects...

The sea reflects the sky

The hand reflects our thought

The sky cannot be veiled but veils

The Mystery of God

The eye reflects the heart

Its colors of desire

Are visible though skin may veil

The crux of vision’s fire

The sea reflects the sky

The eye reflects the heart

The sky cannot be hidden, nor

The mirror of thought-art

The splash of touch soon fades

But its ripple effect

Like colors of the sky on sea

Reflect, reflect, reflect...

© Janet Martin