New Day; Altar and Battlefield

Raven, tree-silhouettes are sketched

Etched on a backdrop of new day

New day is like an altar stretched

Upon time’s rudiments of clay

And we who bear the yoke of toil

Lay on it, shrines of loss and spoil

Skylines and front-lines reappear

We refer to sight, sound and touch

But battle with bonds that adhere

To elements of faith and trust

As modern-day goliaths jeer

And we tremble with doubt and fear

The Name that David lifted high

Bestowed courage to see him through

With that same Name, ah, you and I

Can face our greatest giants too

And march into life’s battlefield

The name of God our strength and shield

© Janet Martin

 Then David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied.  This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head. And I will give the dead bodies of the host of the Philistines this day to the birds of the air and to the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel,  and that all this assembly may know that the Lord saves not with sword and spear. For the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you into our hand.” 1 Sam.17:45-47

Ink Soloists

Day deepens; then it disappears

Into the thick of Eon's vest

To join the ranks of yester-years

Its maiden journey laid to rest

Sometimes the bliss of blue and gold

Rolls up the afternoon with stars

Until the only sounds it holds

Are ticking clocks, crickets and cars

The homestead wears a light or three

And is there anything more fine

Than the familiarity

Cradled within its vague outline

Night wakens words that sleep by day

And soloists of ink reply

They ravage worlds black-wrapped and gray

To hang new poems from the sky

© Janet Martin

This Granted Life...

 The tomatoes in my garden this year are smallish...

but abundant!

This granted breath we fill with death

Of winter-spring-summer and fall

Inhales, exhales, life's ether grail

Spills and refills time’s ebbing drawl

This granted Bit of grace and grit

And plea to pause its pantomime

Bids us slow-taste noon’s sun-sweet haste

And savor the flavor of time

This granted come and go, yes, no

This teasing, easing day-to-day

This fleeting hold of moment-gold

Can fold a granted life away

© Janet Martin

We are definitely savoring a gorgeous 'sun-sweet one' today!

Gracious Bestowal

The Father of compassion sees and knows

He understands man’s stuttering, poor-weak

Then in kind mercy graciously bestows

Perfection to the prayers we cannot speak

© Janet Martin

Hallelujah, He hears all those words we cannot find!

In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; 

for we do not know how to pray as we should...

Rom.8:26

Autumn's Woman...

She dies with dreams, then like a phoenix

From the ash of summer spent

She rises, soft-brushes the onyx

Arabesque of discontent

From her shoulders; now she is bolder

Older than she was before

Lessons of summer season, mold Her

Into Wisdom’s troubadour

Leaves whisper; brittle bronze-y omen

Sallies-slips-drips-swivels-swirls

To kiss the cheek of autumn’s woman

Born of summer’s yester-girl

© Janet Martin

'o-o-o-h, I love fall', sighed Victoria yesterday in a morning sharp with its suggestions,
'its comfy sweaters, jeans and tea...'
We look at each other and grin in mutual delight while Jim tries to straddle the gap twixt venus-mars