Friday, June 5, 2015
Behold, Now...
Before the After is the Now
What Awesome Import this
For we hold not the thing that was
Or will be but What Is
What Is, is Now, no more or less
Will ever bless our touch
If we bear this in mind we would
Not worry quite so much
Like transient gold the Now we hold
Dissolves but is restored
In breath-by-breath allotment from
None other than the Lord
© Janet Martin
Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of
salvation. 2 Cor.6:2
Little People...
(It is taking me a ridiculous amount of time to read Little Women but there are so many layers to Louisa May Alcott's writing so I meander rather than race through pages...)
According to the talkers of today we are deceived
Insisting God is not Supreme like forefathers believed
And that belief in Jesus is akin to fairy-tales
While morning pours from Outer Shores to More’s uplifted
grails
According to the talkers we are wiser now than they
Who sought a Higher Power; they see no reason to pray
But scoff that holy sacrament and toss God to the street
While bud to bloom unfolds from ordained holds beneath our
feet
According to the talkers we are shells without a soul
Then what is faith, hope, love and trust if death is living’s
goal?
The intellect of godless fools like blind leading the blind
Insists there really are no rules for hapless humankind
According to the talkers we are gods, this world a throne
The kingdom-power-glory something everyone can own
And never mind the rhetoric of hell or heaven-joys
According to the talkers satisfied by word-wise noise
…while floodgates holding morning spill and fill night’s
dark with light
To Existence, a mere coincidence of science; right?
While Reason seeds and feeds the needs from sustenance of
sod
According to the talkers creed, today we don’t need God
© Janet Martin
A local council has opted for 'a moment of silence' rather than prayer at their council meetings...one speaker reported that he expected a far stronger opposition to the suggestion than they got, and 'it's really no big deal!'
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and
when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and
thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.
After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
And
lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the
kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
How Soft a Summer's Day...
How soft a summer’s day
Can ease the light away
And tease the air with twilight where
The stars come out to play
How swift a summer’s noon
Falls prey to vesper-tune
Like the romance of love’s first glance
In a slow-dance called June
How soon a summer’s worth
Of flowers deck the earth
Where bloom succumbs and thus becomes
The full-circle of birth
How still a summer’s tears
Can seep away in years
We linger where its painted stair
Lowers and disappears
How smooth a summer's sky
Can wring an hour dry
Where whispers slip in moments drip
-ping to the by-and-by
How soft a summer’s day
Can strum a life away
Beneath a brush where eons rush
In rivers gold and gray
© Janet Martin
...When It Is Summer
It's wikem-day! hurray!
... but when it is summer in the Northern Hemisphere it is winter in the Southern Hemisphere, and vice versa. wikipedia
... but when it is summer in the Northern Hemisphere it is winter in the Southern Hemisphere, and vice versa. wikipedia
It’s silver-frothed laughter a-drift on gold dusk
Soft-clothed in chambray of red roses and musk
A mist mantled meadow, dew-dust elixir
Of dawn dipped in diamonds when it is summer
It’s dinner aboard flora-frigates of June
Its pink morning moorings and high blue-sky noon
Where dog-days and heatwaves and green free-ways blur
And we are all neighbors when it is summer
It’s bare-feet in flip-flops, time’s sun-sparkle splash
It’s lingering on maple-drawn shadow-sash
Its cricket-choirs, camp-fires, earth-wide garden-rooms
Its Color unstoppered from flasks filled with blooms
It’s shores washed with sea-song and corridors hung
With ponds full of children and fronds jewel-strung
Its bracken-strewn hollows where bronze breezes stir
The lap-lap of hours when it is summer
© Janet Martin
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