A Pity-Party Poem (just for fun)

Some people have time to wonder and rhyme

And others don’t

Poor things

Some people have time to wander and climb

And others don’t

Poor things

Some people have time to sip cuppa tea

And others won’t

Poor things

Some drink the ink of poetry

Others just read,

Poor things

© Janet Martin

Heart-art...(and Headboards)

 One day last week Matt came home from his boss's house (where he was working)

 with a two-seater leather reclining couch with one recliner that no longer un-reclines!

Suffice it to say he was far more excited than Mother,

but with enough noise to wake up all of the village we live on the out-skirts of
(because we were stuck in the front doorway and it was pouring!!!)

we got it through the doors and upstairs!

I was sure it would NOT fit into his already too full room

and he was delight-fully-determined to prove Mother wrong.

In the process (yes, he got it to fit and thinks all the furniture on one wall

 minus a headboard for the bed looks just fine!)

He grinned bigger than I've seen him smile in ages.

 So who am I to interfere with such happiness, right?! 😉

ALL this to say, now I have a headboard sitting in the garage 

which has suddenly made cleaning up the garage a priority. 

And, now I'm grinning! 

I have an idea what to do with the headboard.

(I won't say 'stay tuned' because I've done that before

then life comes along and I need to re-prioritize 

and nothing more comes of the 'tune that didn't stay')

Life is always full of priorities being juggled and balanced, isn't it?!

Priorities, they push and pull

An invisible tug-of-war

As common spars with beautiful

The trouble between much and more

Priorities, they ebb and surge

And wash the shorelines of the heart

With such a blessing-giddy splurge

We hardly know where we should start

Priorities, an awesome charge

Of mind and body, heart and soul

Because this little skin-bone barge

Is instilled with a sacred toll

Priorities, they change and shift

With the unraveling of days

And keeps us humbled by the gift

Of Mercy’s ups-a-daisy ways

Priorities, the ink of choice

Is permanent, so guard its art

Because what dominates gives voice

To the poetry of the heart

© Janet Martin

p.s. see what became of the headboard here!

But Always Spring...

The piqued bud brims with unleashed hymns

Wonder waits to be wowed full-well

The eager earth pulses with birth

Where stark, dark bark-chords start to swell

Nature is not an idle thought

Or at the mercy of a whim

Beneath the nod of Holy God

Its orchestra magnifies Him

…and steals our breath where it seemed death

Had sealed the boughs of green unfurled

But always spring begins to ring

The bell that wakes earth's wonder-world

© Janet Martin

With each spring that passes the more its bud enthralls me!

Of Chapters Closed...

There's no getting away from it: the longer we live the older we get!

 The older that I get the more I appreciate the blessings that never lose their wonder...

like newborn babes

 Baby pictures courtesy of his mommy and photographer, my niece!

Thank-you Brit  😘

(it was SO hard to choose!)

and buds!

The longer that we live the more our hunger is exposed

To ink that spills in wonder but then turns to Chapters Closed

The years that etch their echoes into tears and smiles and such

Once seeming oh so present have grown cold beneath time’s touch

And nothing that we do can draw the carriage of farewell

From whence, but reminds us to live today’s moments full-well

The longer that we live the more we realize this Truth

How short the passage is between wizened warriors and youth

My, my, but moments have a way of turning people old

Crowning the weathered brow with gray that once gleamed smooth and gold

And we begin to cherish more the morn’s momentous splurge  

We’ve learned, it isn’t long before the sea and rivers merge

The longer that we live the more we give a kinder thought

To what once seemed so common-place but we have learned, is not

The silt that we once trampled stirred by younger, lighter feet

The ‘house we built’ remodeled beneath green hope still dream-sweet

And we become The Older Folk we never thought we would

And join the ranks of meeker thanks and love misunderstood

The longer that we live the less we stress about what waits

Because we sense Time’s Server hov'ring to collect our plates

And so we linger longer over morsels that seem plain

A little more aware that they will not be served again

Where the secret to happiness has taught us to forgive

And make the most of what gets less the longer that we live

...where eventide gathers the lusty echoes life composed

And tenders them to dusty volumes filled with Chapters Closed

© Janet Martin

Repentance + Belief = Heavenly Inheritance!

 Morning breaks... gray the heavens grieve

but hope wakes joy if we believe

"The time has come," he said.

 "The kingdom of God has come near. 

Repent and believe the good news!"

Mark 1:15

Belief’s repentance must begin within the heart of hearts

“Forgive me Father, I have sinned” then God His grace imparts

As far as east is from the west beneath Redemption’s Roar

Our sins are washed away and He remembers them no more

The joy He sets before us bids us not despise the rod

But helps us to endure the cross until we dwell with God

He offers us His armor; (some have traded it for crud

Like a dog back to its vomit or a washed sow to the mud)

The Lord is rich in mercy; if we confess He forgives

For He longs none to perish but to live because He lives

Our Father up in heaven, help us to hallow Thy name

Because we are forgiven Hope is free of fear and shame

Deliver us from prophets that are false, corrupt, depraved

The wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing, sleepless evil, hell-enslaved

They have no fear of You who overcame; their fate is grim

“For a man is a slave to whatever has mastered him”

Dear Father, be our Master, stir in us love pure and true

Arouse a deep desire just to serve and honor you

For it we repent and believe our soul is secure

The inheritance faith receives makes worth all we endure

© Janet Martin

this poem

Inspired in part by the somber reality of 2 Peter 2 

in today's world!

"even the impossible is Your reality,
Jesus I believe!
(help my unbelief)