Tuesday, April 9, 2019

When Robins Start To Sing...


 A Worship-walk...
that's what last evening felt like as earth was tucked beneath twilight's burnished wing
and it made me squawk sing and want to write a really nice April-hymn!






Something begins to stir
When robins start to sing
Earth’s winter canvas starts to blur
With whispered hints of spring

…as beam of sun ignites
The babble in the brook
And dream of picnic-joy delights
Like pictures in a book

Stark,threadbare hillside-cots
Are ready for a throw
Of violets and forget-me-nots
And apple-blossom snow

…where bulbs and buds are primed
With orchestras of bloom
Creation’s Magnum Opus timed
Within a perfect loom

…while we, with eager eyes
Peer ardently into
An afternoon of silver sighs
Soft-fringed with gold and blue

…knowing beneath its vim
Trembles a hymn of green
The theater of barren limb
Nigh-bursting at its seam

Where spartan solitude
On April’s modest wing
Is like Nature’s simple prelude
Before anthems of spring

...when the Maestro's baton
Signals to common strings
Then from woodland, field, stream, pond, lawn
A world of worship rings

© Janet Martin



Psalm 148

Psalm 148

Praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord from the heavens;
    praise him in the heights above.
Praise him, all his angels;
    praise him, all his heavenly hosts.
Praise him, sun and moon;
    praise him, all you shining stars.
Praise him, you highest heavens
    and you waters above the skies.
Let them praise the name of the Lord,
    for at his command they were created,
and he established them for ever and ever—
    he issued a decree that will never pass away.
Praise the Lord from the earth,
    you great sea creatures and all ocean depths,
lightning and hail, snow and clouds,
    stormy winds that do his bidding,
you mountains and all hills,
    fruit trees and all cedars,
10 wild animals and all cattle,
    small creatures and flying birds,
11 kings of the earth and all nations,
    you princes and all rulers on earth,
12 young men and women,
    old men and children.
13 Let them praise the name of the Lord,
    for his name alone is exalted;
    his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.
14 And he has raised up for his people a horn,
    the praise of all his faithful servants,
    of Israel, the people close to his heart.

So Much To Love and Life Is Too Short and Make the Most of Moments




PAD Challenge day 9: Time for our second Two for Tuesday of the month!
 Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!
  1. Write a love poem. All you need is love.
  2. Write an anti-love poem. Or not.


So much happiness in one wee flower
So much life in the lilt of an hour
So much sunshine in spite of the rain
So much pleasure to sweeten the pain
So much joy in the presence of friends
So much beauty; nature’s compliments
So much potential sifting like sand
So much to love in the moment at hand

© Janet Martin

Life is too short to un-love you
to miss the thrill of the old
to find in the grind of kindness
a pocket lined with sheer gold
where the heart, like a vault of treasure
shimmers beneath our skin
where life is too short to measure
the mementos tucked within 

 © Janet Martin

Make the most of moments
simple as they seem
these soft-spill the sparkle
that fulfills the dream

Make the most of moments
slipping like silk stars
through the flue of high noon
into dusk-blue jars 

Make the most of moments
sun and shadow kissed
tomorrow today's brunt
will be yester's mist 

 © Janet Martin




Things About Your Mother You Should Know...

PAD Challenge day 9: Time for our second Two for Tuesday of the month!
 Pick one prompt or use both…your choice!
  1. Write a love poem. All you need is love.
  2. Write an anti-love poem. Or not.

 Her children rise up and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
Prov.31:28

Dear Son and/or Daughter
from your mother


Your mother will always love you
With heart-strings ironclad
When you hurt she suffers with you
Your triumphs make her glad

From the first time she held you near
From your first newborn cry
Love became life itself, my dear
Bigger than summer's sky

Her love for you gives purpose to
Life’s mundane tasks because
A Love bigger than hers shines through
The little things she does

He helps her through the hardest parts
This Charge God rendered her
Is not for Woman Faint of Heart
When she becomes Mother

For you her dreams and reasons change
For pangs of birth begin
A mother's life-long labor-pains
Hug, hold, let go, scold, grin

Her prayers could fill up an ocean
Your cares become hers too
Hers is a dogged devotion
Unwavering and true

Her teaching becomes her learning
Her learning brings heartaches
So forgive her while she is earning
Her certificate of mistakes

For all she really longs for
In her imperfect best
Is motherhood's highest honor
That you will call her blessed

Then whether mother is thirty-two
Or wizened ninety-five
Love her, for oh, she will love you
As long as she is alive


© Janet Martin


Monday, April 8, 2019

Monday Morning Mantra (for a week not met yet)


 This poem started in my head in the night 
when troubles I face and might face 
took my eyes off grace...
 
 "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. 
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak."
Matt.26:41



Better to pray than fret
Worry is worthless, dear
For steps and miles not taken yet
Better to trust than fear

Better to yield the weight
Of ‘what if’ to the One
Who flings ajar night’s starry gate
And ushers in the sun

Better to touch the hem
Of He who knows our need
Better to hold His hand, my friend
And let Him take the lead 

Better to bear the sweep
Of seasons by God's grace
Better to count blessings, not sheep
 Or troubles we might face

Better to bow the head
And sense Him in each breath
Better to break a crust of bread
Than gorge on feasts of death

Better to bear life's cares
Than to be vainly thrilled
Better bent knees than easy chairs
And selfish plans fulfilled

Better to breathe a prayer
Better to search His word
And cling to better comfort where
Love’s law is undeterred

© Janet Martin

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Jealousy Allowed;-)

PAD Challenge day 7: For today’s prompt, write a jealous poem.
Maybe you’re jealous.
Or maybe someone else is jealous of you–or someone else.




'I'm jealous', whispered my friend
as she smiled
and squeezed my hand
while I beamed
like only
new Grandmothers can

Janet Martin~