Thursday, August 9, 2018

Purpose Galore

When we find Purpose
we find joy


It is not enough simply to do...
The 'Who' we do it for makes all the difference!

 ...and 'getting air' is way more fun when someone is standing there applauding!
(yes, Youngest 'got air' too, my camera click just missed it!)

 Boast-rights broken...grace is the token whereby we serve!


For it is by grace you have been saved through faith, 
and this not from yourselves; it is the gift of God,
not by works, so that no one can boast.
For we are God’s workmanship,
 created in Christ Jesus to do good works, 
which God prepared in advance as our way of life. 
Ah, what Purpose...when work becomes an act of worship to He who grants us strength and joy!


This is a sacred day before our Lord.
 Don’t be dejected and sad, for the joy of the Lord is your strength!”


Primed for perhaps-es not yet come to pass
Morn runs its measure through time’s hour glass
Ah, who could bear it; Unknown’s rise and fall
But for awareness of God over all

Love keeps us humble and hope keeps us glad
Pride makes us stumble and lust drives us mad
Grace frees the captive where guilt held command
Then fear finds freedom through God’s faithful hand

No one finds peace through the pleasure of ‘stuff’
Ah, who could bear it; time’s grave-stricken toll
But for Salvation’s Saviour of the soul

Doubt finds a foothold where demons conspire
God’s word is faithful; the devil a liar
Belief is proven not by words we spew
But by the fruit of one little word; do

Works cannot save us or else we would boast
But after grace renders its uttermost
God, in advance ordained Purpose Galore
Doing good works He created us for

Love one another; a 'disciple's decree'
Is the work order He gives You and me
Ah, who could bear it if no one would prove
This fruit of the Spirit ‘the greatest is love

© Janet Martin

 But the fruit of the Spirit is 
love, joy, peace, 
patience, kindness, goodness, 
faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 
Against such things there is no Law.

Wednesday, August 8, 2018

Sh! Let's Listen to the Rain!


One of my top ten favs… much-needed-rainy summer morning!





Suddenly we slip on slippers
Sip that second cuppa slow
Tempo of teeny tap-dancers
Putting on a first-class show

Suddenly a trillion runnels
Run where yester-dust swirled up
Pitter-patter, precious jewels
Filling pond and petal-cup

Suddenly the whir of traffic
Dons the shush of plush footwear
Hunger humbled by the music
That tumbles in answered prayer

Suddenly we feel at home, oh
Rain-rhapsody, what a thrill
Rousing in the pen a poem
That no strictest scold can still

Suddenly, summer seems slower
Laughter laps up heaven’s tear
Taming haste of come and going
With the taste of Now and Here

© Janet Martin

Yet...


 Have you noticed
...how much earlier Day is turning in?!
But, it isn't time to say farewell to summer...yet.
Isn't 'yet' one of the most happy-sad words in the English vocabulary?!
(depending on what it is hinged to)
It suggests there is still more to come!

 I have not had my second coffee...yet



“Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it... yet?”
L.M. Montgomery


I can’t bear the thought of it…yet
The way Past keeps moving in
Mapping moments, happy, haunting
To primed canvases of skin

I can’t think about farewell…yet
The way Time tugs at the heart
Twisting touch and taste to echoes
Where soon three seasons apart

...summer will be heaped and gathered
Death, a leafless silhouette
Etched upon the early twilight
I can’t think about it…yet

© Janet Martin

Tasting August


For me, a southern Ontario-an, I think August is Time's Magnum Opus







August drizzles days with sunshine
Expectation is fulfilled
Where Queen Ann’s lace fringes fence-lines
Golden fields are flower-frilled
Where the cricket tunes morn-noon-night
Where cicadas drone and buzz
Where leaf-canopies hide sunlight
Where sow-thistle turns to fuzz
Where the garden blooms with supper
Where earth’s cupboard overflows
Where we linger, summer-lovers
Hooked on anything that grows

August sizzles on the sidewalk
Startles us with scorching heat
Lures us to the cooler climate
Of shade tree or pool-side seat
There to swab the salty rivers
Trickling down face, neck and backs
There to revel in the favors
Of words like ‘chill’ and ‘relax’
There to mourn the quickened murmur
Rife with life’s soft severed strings
There to celebrate sweet summer
 And the simple gifts it brings

August melts like minty ice-cream
Pools in petal-passion spent
Fools us with a blue-sky daydream
Then we wonder where it went
Treats us to timeless traditions
Heatwave ripples, goldenrod
Wheat-field stubble, watermelon
Sunsets hand-painted by God
Flowers fading, apples plopping
Plum-pear-peachy ecstasies
Ripe tomato with a topping
Of black pepper if you please

August unravels red roses
Often stopping us mid-stride
To appreciate the moments
Sparkling on time’s hasting tide
Where morning to morning meters
What will soon be out of reach
Where we surf a surge that peters
Like a wave washed to the beach
Make the most of almost morrow
Where each flower tolls a bell
Where August is the sweet sorrow
Leading to summer’s farewell

© Janet Martin