While We Work...

Sometimes task upon task can cast a ho-hum shadow over would-be hallelujah-hymns, 

...but only until we turn our work into worshipping the Author of salvation!

Slice-dice-chop

slip in a splash we slopped

wipe the sweat from 'not-done-yet'

and give, nay live praise to God

Hope, for all its hurt and hunger

Finds fresh footholds, wings to fly

We who believe will be stronger

Than they who doubt and deny

Praise the Author of creation

Far above our mortal ways

He bestows love’s celebration

To life’s commonest of days

Mercy flings its floodgates open

Everybody qualifies

Dares us to desire more than

That which we see with our eyes

Hallelujah fills our ho-hum

Stills despair’s demons that lurk

Puts purpose into this sojourn

If we worship while we work

© Janet Martin

 ...but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. 

They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, 

they will walk and not be faint.

Isa.40:31

Awe-Shucks or For Summer Lovers or August Morn

Started this poem before-sun-up on Monday morn...

but...

...and much more, made Monday's poem Wednesday's poem😀

Broad daylight births from blushing bands stirred on earth’s eastern edge

Where hints of higher hierarchy soft-singe the countryside

With tints that wake awareness to the ink of summer’s pledge

And leaves its lover lingering in hunger’s honing tide

From Maker to partaker day’s decanter is refilled

Where dusk had drained the last drop, fervor streams from dawn’s carafe

To replenish full colour like a Painter’s palette spilled

It leaves its lover wonder-struck at Mercy’s autograph

Ah, August’s glad-to-be-alive brims in the hymn of morn

It flowers in a bower brushed with brume of beggar’s bliss

The bud bares all its secrets in a flare of rose and thorn

To leave its lover torn between hello and farewell’s kiss

Time’s seasoned traveler treads with more tenderness, it seems

Its greener revelers splash through August’s haze like school boys

Where days are far too long for feet chasing tomorrow’s dreams

Which soon leave summer’s lovers agape with shucked sorrow-joys

© Janet Martin

Happy Wednesday!

State/Plate of Bliss...

 This poem was inspired after asking my sister, 

(who posted lovely photos of her and hubby in an artsy town on an anniversary get-away)

'how does she get hubby to stop in teeny antique-y towns...or is it simply love?'

She replied, "I think a combination of love and an empty stomach!

We saw a sandwich bistro😉😊"

(inspiration to create a really good lunch/supper salad-sandwich?!)

Tell me,

What makes you happy

What gratifies your bliss?

What makes you feel at home-sweet-home

No matter where it is?

What satisfies your taste-buds?

What makes enough, enough?

Is it the Thing we have and hold,

Or is it simply

Love?

© Janet Martin

Ta-da!

Like a Song in the Sun...

(another August poem because there is no way to savor every flavor in one spoonful!)

*Von da vind ivvah deh vaetsa-shtubla blosed node vased mah sis glie shbote-yowah, 

said my brother-in-law on Sunday evening(in our mother-tongue, Pennsylvania Dutch)

 as we gathered to celebrate hubby’s mom’s 87^th birthday...

Oh! I replied, that almost feels like a poem! 

Yes, he said...I hear you write, like every week?!!

😀😁😂😃😄

*Translation;’’ when the wind blows over the wheat-stubble then we know soon it will be fall”

When late-day is baked like a golden cake

Drizzled with honey from a heaven-spoon

When sunflower-halos are wide awake

And cricket-vibrato spills noon to noon

When leaves, like candle-flares silver and green

Flicker in whispers of barely-a-breeze

When field lies fallow where wheat-sheen had been

Leaving the impression of memories

When dust of days spent and musk of songs sung

Ache with awareness of love-and-let-go

When music is petal-soft, lisped by a tongue

Of tattered delphinium’s purple-blue snow

When kiss of full colour and bliss of have-hold

Flashes like splashes of lake-diamonds tossed

When earth’s panorama of green, bronze and gold

Lures barefoot dancers to ballrooms soon lost

When wind in the willow is drowsy with heat

And hope is a-billow with heart-strings undone

When live-in-the-moment is bittersweet

There August is…like a song in the sun

There August is like a wave on the sand

Like a milkweed pod filled with silk-spun tears

Like a yellow cello played by a hand

That no one can see but everyone hears

© Janet Martin

And a bit of 'blossom-snow' from one of my favorite books Edge Seasons by Beth Powning

this piece simply feels like August to me!