Not At The Mercy of Moods

Life's 'Stuff' can crush with emptiness

We all need More than we can see

We all need God to guard our thought

From dungeons of depravity

Yesterday in Judy's latest post entitled Leaks

 I laughed out loud as I read this; Don't 'Should' on yourself!

Thought can make us do that all the time! huh?

This morning Thought threatened to throw its Thrall over 

All There Is To Be Thankful For...

So, in case of despair

I fled to the Throne-room of Prayer!

Moods make us brood while woods and hills spill elemental art

Fond dreams, for all their fuel cannot fill Want’s gaping void

Seasons, like snowflakes fall and melt in pictures to the heart

Kindling a tender duel twixt love torn and over-joyed

We all need God; thought turns on us like storms on listing ships

It leads into temptations to wallow in doubt and fear

Its woulda-shoulda-coulda steals the laughter from our lips

A monster’s roar beneath placid facade of skin, my dear

How quick thought is to deviate from pious Best Intent

Adept Inventor of wars waged twixt Hope and deep despair

Where no one is immune to shrewd impulses Mortal Bent

And none but God can meets us in the Grand Throne Room of prayer

Life’s burdens would be like a millstone hung about the neck

Where Emptiness can drown the Downcast in its plumb-less pit  

We all need God to keep Thought’s Very Wily Will in check

We all need God; So Love can keep Thought’s Fragile Beacon lit

© Janet Martin

Search me, O God, and know my heart; 

Try me and know my anxious thoughts;

  Psalm 139:23

More Than Word-Play

You can’t control the talents He gives you, no doubt about that. 

But you can control the effort you put forth with those talents.”

 - Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher Clayton Kershaw

“I didn’t do anything to deserve this gift,” Kershaw recently told FCA Magazine.

 “God gave me an ability to throw a baseball. 

He chose me for a reason, and I want to honor Him with that. 

You can’t control the talents He gives you, no doubt about that. 

But you can control the effort you put forth with those talents.”

'hopefully', (I often remind myself)
'our 'say' is more than word-play!'

What are we doing with what God gave us?
A month ago at a family celebration for our parent's 55th wedding anniversay
my niece Keturah sang the above song in a beautiful, pure
God's gift-to-her voice!

 No matter what let's honor God with the gifts He gave us!
Let's not be strangled by the dangling noose of comparison!
There is only one you or me!
Let's be the best version we can be.

The crepuscule of onyx tulle pulls back its ether door

And rains across our gain and loss the albatross of More

As have-and-hold of gray and gold unfolds what none can see

The fabric of its live-laugh-love, glove of mortality

Time’s joy-and-sorrow, beg-and-borrow-morrow-turned-today

Entrusts to us the Must that teaches dust-to-dust to pray

Where full extent of man’s lament, hard bent with Mercy’s ‘nope’

Cannot out-blot, no matter what, the God of Living Hope

The knife of life carves from silk scarves of morn, rock-solid cast

No one can woo a re-do from the avenue of Past

Where streams of dreams and schemes that overflow thought’s slipp’ry banks

Are not worth much until touch yields its clutch to humble thanks

Today is more than word-play; ‘say’ is nothing without ‘do’

The shuttle of rebuttal does not cuddle/coddle me or you

The matrix of kicks, sticks and stones and pricks of thorn-nicked woes

Lest we forget, is ever yet, the stem that holds the rose

© Janet Martin

 And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, 

do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, 

giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Col.3:17

October Eventide

This poem caught me by surprise...

as Victoria and I lounged a little longer after a simple supper of grilled cheese and green peppers...

 Jim is battling his way home through the snow-stricken west and Matt is away on an overnight job.

Suddenly I began thinking how quiet the evenings will be when Victoria is finished with grade 12 and moved to Next Chapter! So I didn't tell her to take her feet off the table😀

Beyond the kitchen window pumpkin-halos disappear

As worlds, familiar by day don night’s velvet veneer

And tables set for supper, (though this may seem commonplace)

Are like a bit of heaven to a very human race

As ‘chase of dollar’ and the ‘call of duty’ cools its hold

And Beauty beams from faces of our loved ones young and old

Beyond the kitchen window slips the blip of afternoon

Earth is a charcoal drawing ‘neath the lantern of the moon

 A Master-peace entitled October Tranquility

As if eons had not evolved since that first ‘let there be’

And almost we forget this is the modern day of noise

When we are wrapped in the fine thread of home-sweet-home's sweet joys

Beyond the kitchen window mopes the ghost of childhood’s dread

A lonely sort of fellow roaming o’er dark moor and mead

He runs the brittle leaf across the yard with phantom broom

And makes us feel so cozy in our little cottage-room

As October seeps into every crack and crease of skin

And begs us to be braver where the night is closing in

Beyond the kitchen window where no naked eye can see

Somewhere with star-struck flare today joins ranks of history

How momentous, the impetus that moves the morn to naught

And proves once more the hierarchy of Time’s tittle and jot

Where oft life’s simple samples that we tend to overlook

Will be the pages we turn to in some fond memory book

© Janet Martin

Autumn Celebration!

Came to finish my coffee and it had a leaf-garnish!

Celebrate autumn, oh, come feast your eyes

Earth’s cornucopia spills with surprise

Free for all banquet-hall, large as the day

Fields and hills groaning with nature’s buffet

Celebrate autumn; the garden is bare

Cellars are brimming with its gathered fare

Wend your way homeward where colors collide

Pretend that time is a friend on our side

Celebrate autumn; its vintage is fine

Grand culmination of fruit from the vine

Here’s to the tableau that authors awe’s toast

Praise to the Artist where no man can boast

Celebrate autumn; death wears quite a gown

Coral and crimson, gold, red for its crown

Making us brothers all; beggar and king

Gazing agog at leaf-song's final fling

Celebrate autumn; hip-hip-hip-hooray
Three cheers for lovely October's paint tray
Cinnamon, ginger, apple-orchard blush
Misty mauve mornings with warm oatmeal mush

Celebrate autumn; for soon its flare dims

Scattered in tatters beneath barren limbs

Easing us on toward what all must brave

Soul to the Giver and ash to the grave

© Janet Martin