Friday Thoughts~

Love is a Three-letter word

Y-O-U~

Love is also a six-letter word

M-O-T-H-E-R

 ~Spring Portraits~

Oh, let me never pine nor plead

For my neighbor’s garden fair

And let me never seek with greed

Life’s blessings that were meant to share

But as each day to history folds

Oh, let me labor thankfully

Lest I should miss the field of gold

That God has placed in front of me

Of petal-pink promises

Unfolding their hope

Of green and gold palaces

Gracing earth’s slope

Of winter forgotten

On emerald floors

And cloud-ships of cotton

Bound for gossamer shores

Of zephyr-lips tender

And azure diadem

Matriarch of splendor

And her name is Spring

She shakes out the girth

Of her floral-sweet gowns

And covers the earth

In for-get-me-not crowns

She tosses her tresses

And every limb

Dons pretty pink dresses

Or lacy green trim

Fleet-footed belle

Of laughter and grace

She restores a smile

To every face

Janet~

The little guys I babysit and I went on a spring stroll...here are some pictures in full spring color!

Portrait of a Mother

She leaves her youth upon the grass
Where all her happy children pass
She dons a robe of profound merit
God will show her how to wear it
Its filament is firm yet mild
Woven by fingers of a child
Marked by the tears of joy and strife 

And quickened years that form her life
Graciously she bows her head
To wear this cloak of meeker thread

While stages fill and man applauds
The march of fame and lesser gods
She has known the best there is
In childish hugs and good-night kiss
And she has seen love's fairest prize

Gleaming in her children’s eyes
No wild applause or acclamation
For the hand which holds a nation
Silently she bows her head
And trusts God for His faithful lead

Her children rise and call her blessed

To recognize earth's utter-best
As humbly she her will resigns
To Hands which brush her face with lines
While Vanity would stop and gaze
With pity on her love-lined face
She would do it all again
To know she has not loved in vain
For Vanity with all its charms
Can never fill a mother’s arms

No great award, no Hall of Fame
To reward this humble name
Yet there can never be another
Name, as honorable as Mother
So while the buxom hours pass
To shed their petals on the grass
She will thank God for the hours
Where she tended sweeter flowers
In a garden like no other
Reserved for one which we call Mother

Janet Martin

Because of Him

 

 

Because of the grace and the love He has shown

Because of His word that will not pass away

We have a foundation of rare, precious Stone

A blueprint for living as we build day by day

Because of His absolute forgiveness of sin

We are set free from the burden of guilt

No condemnation remains deep within

Redemption impartial flows in His life-blood spilt

Because of His infinite mercy and care

Hope will sustain us in spite of travail

We have a Father who does not despair

His way is perfect; His love will not fail

© Janet Martin

Let no man deceive himself.

If any man among you seems to be wise in this world

let him become a fool that he may be wise.

for the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.

For it is written: He takes the wise in their own craftiness. 1 Cor. 3:18-19

Coveted Illusion

While others sleep

The poet seeks

New forms to spill

Her unnamed thought

For poetry

Stirs quietly

In air

Tattooed without a jot

It's just a feeling

Without shape

And an ache

Without just cause

But to poise

In contemplation

In the midnight hour because

Time offers no outstretched palm

Where the poet can devour

Long un-tallied realms of calm and

Stolen moments from an hour

So while wiser souls lay sleeping

Poets toil in tender bliss

For that coveted illusion

In a poem’s perfect kiss

© Janet Martin

What Mother's Anticipate...

Mothers can wait for the house to be tidy

When footsteps no longer dash over mopped floors

And mothers can wait for those years of pure quiet

No shouting voices or slamming of doors

Mothers can wait for the days of no laundry

And sparkling windows with no trace of a kiss

Where curious noses press to its barrier

Because they are wondering ‘where mother is’

Mothers can wait for long days with no duty

For surely to be busy is heaven on earth

And toiling for loved ones is life’s finest beauty

Filling each moment with purpose and worth

…but mothers smile softly with anticipation

For they cannot wait for that most special day

When childish eagerness plucks for sweet mother

A humble, yet glorious dandelion bouquet

© Janet Martin

Just a Song...

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?

If it’s just a violin, why can I hear it plea?

If it’s just a dance twixt living and dying

Oh, darling let’s make it the best it can be

If it’s just a song of cello and timbrel

Then why do I hear the tempo of time

Charting its chorus; a relentless minstrel

Clutching my heart in its rhythm and rhyme?

If it’s just a song, why do the words move me

Until I’m unable to see through my tears?

If it’s just a song, darling, will you love me

Long after the music of life’s quickened years?

If it’s just a song, then why am I crying?

Why do I hear more than its raw melody?

If it’s just a song twixt living and dying

Then darling, let’s make it the best it can be

J~

On the Threshhold of Twilight

Here is the hour of musk-tender power

Drawing the shadow of dusk on the day

Here is the hour that unfolds like a flower

In petals of amber and soft silver-gray

Here is the taunting in warm-whispered wanting

For one precious hour of fair pasts to return

Here is the portal where time-tempered mortal

Recalls dim-lit gardens for which softly we yearn

Here is the meadow where memories echo

Bitter-sweet sonnet of sorrow and mirth

As twilight comes stealing, life’s hurt and its healing

Swells in the stillness that blankets the earth

Here is the hour as darkness creeps lower

When exile is sweeter than noon’s laughing clan

For darkness makes clearer and somehow draws nearer

The whisper of memories common to man

© Janet Martin

Perfection

What lies beyond the pale blue hill

Of moments as they flow?

Why, simply this; God’s perfect will

Wherever we may go~

Janet