No Fickle Trickster, God

PAD Challenge 10; Here is our next prmpt from Robert Lee Brewer at Poetics Aside!
Wow! We’re already one-third of the way through this challenge, and I’ve been impressed (as usual) by the creative approaches to each prompt. It never fails to amaze and delight me to see a prompt take life once in the hands of poets.

For today’s Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

1. Write a deal poem.
2. Write a no deal poem.

Imagine being at the mercy

Of a God we could not trust

Known for shady business dealings

Stealing, trickery and such

What if seeds were stripped of bearing?

Or the bud bereft of bloom

Or the sun slipped from its mooring

And ricocheted off the moon

What if night might stay forever

Morning, an uncertain thing

What if just for fun He ordered

Winter again, after spring

Imagine being at the mercy

Of a God that we could prove

No bigger-than-mortal-answers

No unfathomable love

What if grace was just a fable

And faith didn’t need our prayers

Everything spread on a table

Like a merchant selling wares

What if, with vile angst and trembling

We, without His Word assured

Approached death with nothing more than

Maybe soul will be secured

Imagine being at the mercy

Of a fickle, two-faced God

Who, instead of dealing kindly

Gave us just what we deserved

…where the air would scar our faces

With the curses we have spewed

As He deals with the excuses

Explaining ingratitude

© Janet Martin

 He has not dealt with us according to our sins,
            Nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.

Ps.103: 10

 Whether you've read it 100 times or never...

Please, read the whole glorious chapter here!

Psalm 103 

Trying To Touch The Moon

Sometimes when silence silvers the sliver of moon at dusk

And daylight ebbs from rivers like a silk and satin husk

When blue-brusque tusk of north wind tugs at twilight’s edge and wins

And slips a cloak of velvet black across empyrean skins

When worlds slip from my windows save a wisp of crescent moon

And everything is quiet save the echo of high noon

I feel the reel of teal, maroon and amethyst enmesh

Like steel of whispers tattooed in the fabric of my flesh

And Thought is like a hunter thriving when the light is lean

Yet thought is like The Hunted plying senses quick and keen

And Night is like a body without bearing, breath or form

Yet wraps earth in its shadow taking heaven’s stars by storm

The tumult of tomorrow waits to seal its breadth to naught

Where now I spy with guessing games the outcome of mere thought

...a dot beneath the crescent moon, this spot where I am bound

Trying to touch the tip of it with both feet on the ground

© Janet Martin

Battle-ships (for moms)

PAD Challenge day 9:For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Battle (blank);” replace the blank with a word or phrase; make the new phrase the title of your poem; and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Battle Tested,” “Battle of the Sexes,” “Battle of the Bands,” and “Battle of the Bulge.”

You know those days…

the ones where you don’t look at the bill ‘cause you just wanna keep on feeling good a little longer.

The ones with question we don’t ask because we’re afraid of the answer.

The ones that reminds us Time and mirrors do not flatter.

The ones when it seems every room hounds Housekeeper with “hello, over here…dust, dirt, foot-finger-prints?!!”

( even though it feels like you live with a vacuum, mop and cleaning cloth attached to your hand?!)

I was having one Of Those;

…then Judy posts Practice Resurrection

 and blesses the blah right out of the mess

and happiness of mother/housewife-hood! 

Hard to watch

you dig a hole

you seem determined

to see through

And learn to let go

and let God,

like our mothers

had to, too

We reconcile

The smiles we wear

To lines that never

Used to be

We teach of faith

Though faith in God

Will always be
a mystery

We pray, oh-ho

We pray

Often tongue-tied

and oh. so. small.

Stunned by what

Once we thought we knew

But never

Knew at all

We reach for skies

crawl, where good-byes

rattle the heart

soft caged

in the human breast

like a little nest

withstanding the winds

that rage

...where we grasp chores

like sturdy chairs

Anchored by Duty's

emblem

through battles we bear

like our mothers before

and their mothers

before them

© Janet Martin

Hope's Pilgrimage

Sometimes we run the danger of blaming Someone amiss

For trouble’s trial, terrible; adverse to mortal wish

But, He who sets the night at ease with magenta and rose

Is the Rock in life’s tragedies; the Solace in our woes

First Impulse is a rebel and sometimes a liar too

It stirs us to ask questions that there are no answers to

The way of trust is hard, but authored by the nail-scarred Hands

Of He who suffered every sorrow, so He understands

The hurt and heartache common to we, sojourners of earth

Are but a shadow of the pain that wrought Salvation’s worth/birth

And sometimes we forget how much He cares and loves us so

Where faithful to His promises He is our friend, not foe

Love lends to us all that we have but no one ever owns

This Passage we call Time and Life, like sacred stepping-stones

Where mercy knew the dark valleys Hope must pass through before

We reach The Promised Land where nail-scarred Hands will ope the Door

© Janet Martin

This Hymn written by William Cowper is a go-to when I don't understand...

Esp. the 4th and 6th stanza!

1. God moves in a mysterious way
   His wonders to perform;
   He plants His footsteps in the sea
   And rides upon the storm 
2.  Deep in unfathomable mines
   Of never failing skill
   He treasures up His bright designs
   And works His sov’reign will.
3. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
   The clouds ye so much dread
   Are big with mercy and shall break
   In blessings on your head.
4. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
   But trust Him for His grace;
   Behind a frowning providence
   He hides a smiling face.
5. His purposes will ripen fast,
   Unfolding every hour;
   The bud may have a bitter taste,
   But sweet will be the flow’r.
6. Blind unbelief is sure to err
   And scan His work in vain;
   God is His own interpreter,
   And He will make it plain.

The only way God's promises can offer hope or help

is if we know them

and believe! 

Do you ever find yourself crying like that boy's father,

"Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!"?

Mark 9:20-25

A link to some of His Faithful Promises

Mist-kissed Past-Cast

Patrick Reed Wins The Masters 2018

 

The Winning Shot! 

More moments...

Thank-you Jordan Spieth and Rickie Fowler, for adding the nail-biter finish as our hearts soared and fell with the score, depending on who we were cheering for!

...and then the Past comes slipping in

To brush to nothing-more-than-mist

the bloom and blush of grin 

and groan and moments

tear or laughter-

 kissed

Where all

that yet remains from

pain and pleasure's mighty itty-bit

is the remembrance  of the moment

and what we  have learned from it

Janet~

Rory offers congratulations he dreamed perhaps, of receiving...but not this time. 

The common fellowship of we who slip and trip and fall

Is that we feel true sympathy for those who know the pain

Of broken dreams and hope that seems, at the moment, so small

But makes us brave enough to stand up tall and try again

***

Another twilight fades to shades that snuffs the countryside
 Where history is made with what we did with what we held
Then each today turns into yesterday on time's swift tide
And shapes the view we look back to as twilight shadows meld