Blissful Ignorance

PAD challenge day 22: For today's prompt, write an organism poem.

There is a scientific explanation for all the wonders of creation!

While I don't condone stupidity 

I do see some merit in blissful ignorance😅

and simply reveling in the beholding/listening.

I will thrill to trills and warbles of spring's feathered orchestra...

I am blissfully ecstatic without the wherefore and why

Of the stunning, unprolific declarations of the sky...

I prefer the panoramic pages of dusk's countryside...

You may keep your scientific, staid specifics if you please

I am quite content to linger beneath music in the trees

I will thrill to trills and warbles of spring's feathered orchestra

Rather than drills about mating and territorial blah-blah

I am blissfully ecstatic without the wherefore and why

Of the stunning, unprolific declarations of the sky

Hail to all scholastic sages, to all valedictorian pride

I prefer the panoramic pages of dusk's countryside

You may muse and mull, sweet scholar, over microscopic tracts

I am quite content to marvel without knowing all the facts...

God bless all the scientific geniuses for their gift

I am quite content to lie beneath the sky where cloud-ships drift

Janet😊

Little Lyric for New Day

While beauty trembles in tresses

Of treetops ...

...and garden dirt

Today’s toil and trouble presses

Happiness is honed by hurt

While beauty trembles in tresses

Of treetops and garden dirt

Today tips time’s tray with laughter

Tries and tests its quests with tears

Where Before is poured to After

-math of moment-meted years

Today treats us to nuances

No one has dishonored yet

Pray, no unkind keepsake haunts us

When its molding clay is set

Today tumbles from its Giver

Like a river filled with fish

Would we do more than just shiver

On shorelines of want-and-wish

Today trembles, skies unfolding

Like wings of a butterfly

Where the wonder of beholding

Groans with onus of reply

Today grants its fleeting offer  

Dare we chance a step, oh pray

Before looking to its Author

And thanking Him for today?

© Janet Martin

Pray, no unkind keepsake haunts us

When its molding clay is set

This is the day the Lord has made.

We will rejoice and be glad in it.

Ps.118:24

While Faithfully He Parts the Gates...

April mornings in Ontario, Canada serve up a salad-bowl of seasons...

Spring sunshine,

Inspiring picnics...

Picnic lunch: fresh homemade bread, fresh farm-made cheese, zucchini relish canned last summer,

locally made summer sausage, and cucumber slices!

In the fresh air it was a five-star meal in a top-notch setting

of quilt table-tops and no-shoes service!

THEN whoa, back to winter woolies,

...and today?

Raindrop rhinestones and ringlets!

Grand-daughter sighs ecstatically as she counts 'all thothe puddlthe'💖

(but, no puddle splashing today. They are simply too frigid to be healthy!

Warmer puddle-days are just around the corner!)

Creation swells with goodness; wellsprings brim that none can drain

Life’s Giver keeps His promises; He grants the sun and rain

Where nature heeds its father’s rules and trust its father’s lead

Where miracles burst from capsules of bud and bulb and seed

The crux from which earth’s deluxe wonders seep, thrills mortal gaze

The cradle from which birth thunders in silence, leaps with praise

Awe authors humble worship to He who some dare deny

From the fringe of eternity mercy and grace reply

Love lavishes this creature place with glorious majesty

Although the beauty of His face we cannot clearly see

We glimpse Him in the seasons as they toll from shore to shore

Frilled field and flower oceans rolling past our very door

The thankless creature shakes a fist; the grateful creature bows

As gray, or gold and amethyst bends daybreak's gleaming prows

Where whether unawares or not each precious creatures stands

Not only on a foot-width plot, but in God’s gracious hands

Morning’s welcome mat shimmers as it unveils land and sea

Creation swells with glimmers of the Giver’s majesty

Oh, God forgive, greed claws, hate desecrates and bombs destroy

While faithfully He parts the gates where nature rings with joy

© Janet Martin

Something about the gory scenes of war 

bleeding

beneath trees bursting into blossom 

on hills 

steeped in virgin green

tugs at the crux of one's 

soul! 

🙏😢

Psalm 89:11
The heavens are thine, the earth also is thine: 

as for the world and the fulness thereof, thou hast founded them.

This Is My Father's World

This Is My Father's World Lyrics

(so comforting for the times we are in as we lift our prayers

for all the hurting to Him)

This is my father's world

And to my listening ears

All nature sings, and round me rings

The music of the spheres

This is my father's world

The birds their carols raise

The morning light, the lily white

Declare their maker's praise

This is my father's world

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas

His hand the wonders wrought

This is my father's world

Oh, let me never forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong

God is the ruler yet

This is my father's world

Why should my heart be sad?

The Lord is king, let the heavens ring

God reigns, let the earth be glad

This is my father's world

He shines in all that's fair

In the rustling grass, I hear him pass

He speaks to me everywhere

Songwriters: C. Barny Robertson / Dp / Maltbie Babcock

The Secret to A Heart Content

Day 20 PAD Challenge: For today's prompt, write a six words-challenge poem.

6 words are: Content, Double, Guide, Meet, Pump, Suit

Red-bellied Woodpecker

(he showed up today, after a long absence looking a bit harried, but still beautiful!)

American Robin

How lovely is a heart content

How double-happy its delight

When we meet life, not with lament

But with poetic/ecstatic appetite 

Time is a tour guide, quite gallant

Poised to accommodate pursuit 

The heart is easy to enchant

When contentment has taken root 

A heart content cannot be bought

No pump can run its wellspring dry

Its happiness cannot be caught

Like a bird or a butterfly

I think sometimes we tend to miss

 Its kiss, and complicate its 'yes'

When contentment is simply this;

A heart chock-full of thankfulness 

P-s-s-s-t! keep this between you and me

I don't want to make Them feel bad

But, some folk don't read poetry

Then wonder why they feel so sad

😅

Janet Martin

Some people don't read poetry or bird-watch!

poor dears😉😊

How Precious Is The Fountain

Easter is not a season we celebrate

but love's reason to rejoice and celebrate every day eternally🎝🎜🙌

The Precious Blood

 1 Pet. 1:18-21

For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold 

that you were redeemed from the empty way of life 

handed down to you from your ancestors,

    but with the precious blood of Christ,

 a lamb without blemish or defect. 

   He was chosen before the creation of the world, 

but was revealed in these last times for your sake. 

   Through him you believe in God, 

who raised him from the dead and glorified him, 

and so your faith and hope are in God.

My Worth is not in What I Own

How precious is the fountain filled with everlasting life

The lifeblood of our Saviour spilled where pardon still runs rife

Where not just once but constantly awe draws us to the place

That sets the sorry sinner free with love’s redeeming grace

To gaze upon Mangled Perfection with beholden breath

And praise God for the resurrection that overcame death

How precious is the fountain, not of water but of blood

Where we are drawn so often just to marvel at its flood

And wash in torrents that atone, where joy and sorrow meld

In worship, as we weep and groan through trials not withheld

Where we are more than conquerors, through He who loves us so

The anchor of hope not authored by what we see, but know

How precious is the fountain that streams from Calvary’s cross

Where faith can remove mountains if we count all but Christ loss

'Dear Lord have mercy, I believe, now help mine unbelief

Make the reward faith will receive, desire’s earnest chief'

As we press on victor'ous, through the precious blood of Christ

May the joy set before us make sweet every sacrifice

© Janet Martin

Of Heaven-Realities on Earth

2 Cor.7:1

Therefore, since we have these promises, dear friends,

let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit,

perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.

Our Position and Our Purpose! - Charles Spurgeon Sermon

(A few thoughts snared from the message above...

Let us purify ourselves from anything that contaminates body and spirit

If God lives in us let us make our house clean for such a pure God

The sins of the spirit are the mothers to sins of the flesh…

I can imagine a room in your house being perfectly clean 

but I cannot imagine that room staying perfectly clean 

unless the process by which it was first cleansed is repeated.

 Whether a room is in constant use or closed up

 it requires regular sweeping and dusting to stay perfectly clean!

Heaven's first realities for the true Christian, begins on earth! Hallelujah!

He loves us with a Father’s love

And guides us with a Father’s care

Protects and watches over us

He fellowships with us in prayer

And as we pour out hearts to Him

He pours His heart to you and I

His Word a lamp that will not dim

His gift, a life that cannot die

Forgive us when we do not prize

Faith’s privileges like we should

And shift the hunger of our sighs

To things of clay and stone and wood

May our earthly quests revere

Love’s heavenly realities

May we reflect and hold most dear

The honour of such dignities

…as being called children of God

Thus heirs of Him and his dear Son

Forbid, all we give is a nod

For the assurances of Heaven

Where not with laws of fear, but love

He pours His promises divine

Mercies. Indwelling, Communion.

His covenants are thine and mine

Pray God’s redemptive absolutes

Through His divine deliverance

Produces salvation’s first-fruits

Gratitude and obedience

Pray as we seek to purify

Ourselves, we make our temple such

As befits faith's humble reply

To God, who loves us all so much

© Janet Martin

 

The Dance of Circumstance

If it was up to us most Ontarians would not choose this color tonight but

circumstance dances to the beat of its own drum...

The dance of circumstance trains us to be lithe on our toes

To bend and bow where here and now dictates its dosey-does

Where melodies that moments spill, insist we twist and twirl

Sometimes a beautiful quadrille, sometimes a tilt-a-whirl 

 

The dance of circumstance may perplex us with sudden spins

A vertigo of unexpected dips and vexing grins

Of waltzes unrehearsed before they sweep us off our feet

Into a rushing repertoire of both bitter and sweet

The dance of circumstance does not cater to wish and whim

But teaches us to tango to the tempo of the hymn

Where instruments we cannot tune requires you and me

To make the best of what will soon become a memory

© Janet Martin

...on that note, here's to the memory you are making

to the music that is playing💖💝

Fledermaus Quadrille – André Rieu

We, The Up and Comers (to the Sunset Years)

PAD challenge day 18-For today's prompt, write a We Blank poem.

Heb.2:1

Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard,

lest at any time we should let them slip...

This poem is written from a middle of middle age vantage point...

Gorgeous sunset the other evening but no freedom to wax poetic just then...

We tend to feel a bit like trees

Weathered and buffeted and tossed...

We tend to find as time goes by

And insolence of youth relents/repents

That the voice of choice will reply

Without a doubt, with consequence

We tend to learn as years accrue

Beneath the sparkle of the splash

The vault of ‘What I Thought I Knew’

Is quite depleted of its stash

We tend to feel a bit like trees

Weathered and buffeted and tossed

By winds of wild epiphanies

And olden ways to progress lost 

Then we tend to muzzle bold boasts

Attuned to time’s fading applause

We tend to raise much meeker toasts

To wisdom’s blunder-riddled cause

We tend to taste its grain of salt

In stumble-humbled middle-age

With empathy, rather than fault

Those struggling on a hard-knock page

Beneath the tutelage of Time

We tend to learn as we advance

There is so much more to life’s climb

Than can be appraised at a glance

…and how too oft we disregard

The common ground beneath our feet

How everyone’s ‘uphill’ is hard

And love lives, not on Easy Street

We of a more middle-age class

Chastened and jarred by season-swirls

Sense a Baton we soon must pass

To up and coming boys and girls

Beneath the sovereignty of clocks

We tend to be startled to find

How swift the classroom door unlocks

To students, never far behind

Thus, we should attend above all

What we tend often to forget

The aftermath of the footfall

Weaves someone’s path not travelled yet

© Janet Martin