In Spite Of Life's Seasons

(photo by Victoria Martin)

Counting our blessings in spite of life's longings...

In spite of life’s heartache

Summer disappears

Into a bold backdrop

Of autumn and years

In spite of life’s trouble

Flowers flame then fade

Where Hours, like leaves fall

Through memories made

In spite of life’s sorrow

And its kind prelude

Earth bears the fullness

Of seasons subdued

In spite of Imminence

And its Vast Unknown

Time holds no secrets

From God on His throne

In spite of life’s has been

Or yet still must be

God does not forget

Or forsake you and me

Life unfolds seasons

And God holds the glass

His Hands form the channel

Through which seasons pass

© Janet Martin

That's the thing about life; 

it happens in seasons.
What now is will not remain
Save the Love and Grace
of God

 See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, 

Redeeming the time, because the days are evil.  

Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord is.  

And be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit;  

Speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, 

singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord; 

Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father 

in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ;

Eph.5:15-20

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Thursday Thoughts and Shots on Thanks-living (posted on Fri. due to Thurs.internet issues:)

This Monday Canada celebrates Thanksgiving.

Come to the Sea

 OctPoWriMo day 9 prompt: Today I'm suggesting you think about the elements, how they affect you and about the duality and contrast in them.

We always come back; something ‘bout the roar

-ing sea draws us, metallic green-blue-gray

Though its ebb-rolling tug-of-shore-to-shore

Cannot return Past or wash it away

How pleasant is its sun and sandy fringe

That stays the deep; we come to dream and sigh

Out to the line where heaven is a hinge

Touching horizon holding up the sky

The sea steals and seals; still, it gives us more

Constant the lure toward its song, wild, free

As if it were an old-time troubadour

And we the lucky listeners at its knee

Come to the sea; leave all your cares behind

For cares can wait until another day

Come, listen to it glisten, silver-lined

Atonement washes worry far way

© Janet Martin

Autumn's Brigadoon

Moments amass; too oft we pass up opportunities

Leading to grass freeways and skies as wide as open seas

Edict of toil and soil foil plans fashioned by wanderlust

We grapple with life while wild apple trees spill, dust to dust

Time after time we climb the lower limbs of good intention

While bloom-bells chime, a pantomime of wealth and intervention

Time’s puddle that we muddle through is but a dash, a splash

A prelude to these wars subdued where good and evil clash

This spurt of dirt and hurt offers a longer, slower road

Where those less hurried trundle-tromp to destiny’s abode

The call to grassland freeways beneath blue, wide-open sky

Is autumn’s invitation; everybody should reply

Sometimes I wonder how much happier this world would be

If every gate would open to a garden and a tree

And shops would close up early because Autumn's matriarch

Spread every meadow like a quilt for picnics in its park

© Janet Martin

Hark to October's Song

Hark, while the busy flower flings its petal to the tree

And every hill of former green dons dazzling filigree

The winnowing of days fills skies with roseate and teal

The target of thought’s dream-some sighs lies somber and surreal

Hark, heaven lends suggestions of what waits beyond this clod

Of four-season investments scribbled on parchments of sod

Where sunlight splays its circle of gold high atop the earth

And mankind lays his winsome ways within its waning girth

Hark, while a seraphim of frond and limb unfurls its song

And all along the boulevard scuttles a scattered throng

Of quarter-notes and amber-threaded tatters from a coat

That flaunted fearless flowers and hours fond and remote

Hark, lest in our hasting we forfeit life’s finest things

For bits of boorish tasting and want’s temperamental strings

Where now the colored flame of dirt laughs like a clapping child

Before the taming wind that howls through bones and wooded wild

© Janet Martin

Sometimes one simply needs to get out there and enjoy it, or fall falls away like a leaf on the wind, untouched.

Pale Pink

OctPoWriMo day 8; Today's Challenge, Write a poem talking about a color and your memories attached to it. Bring us along for the memory's journey.

Your fingers 

kept getting caught

In soft pink shell-stitch

As you introduced

Your new-born mother

To a whole new, soft-pink world

Of love

Your mother,

A stranger to this world

Of pink booties and bassinets

Of little pink fingers and toes

Was about to discover

How this whole new world of love

Was also a whole new world 

Of sorrow

© Janet Martin