God is Still Good

In spite of life’s trials

Oft misunderstood

One truth is rock-solid

God is still good

In spite of His chastening

Oft misunderstood

One truth remains

God is still good

In spite of our thanklessness

Our greed and our lust

God’s goodness abides

In Him we trust

In spite of His love

Oft misunderstood

One truth never wavers

God is still good

© Janet Martin

The Sunset Cradle...

Jasmine, demons, window, scrap, ample, montage,
Flawed, granite, trapped, whistle, domain, sunset

This old table in the west window

cradled her sunsets for nigh fifty years

A montage of memories tuned by the whistle

of a January gale trapped on the outside

suddenly arouses pictures of a surface

cluttered with quilt scraps

or potted red geraniums

or perhaps in October 

a granite bowl of gleaming apples

much to eager, rosy cheeked children's delight

Flawed realities have been perfected by the forgiveness of time

No one ever questioned its domain

there, in the west window the old table and an old chair reigned

as from its visage-point jasmine rivers crawled white in June

and demons wandered black on a night with no moon

But history’s ample lap cannot preserve it

as the auctioneer shouts…what am I bid?

Who’ll give me ten? Let me throw in a chair

Ah, yes…. That chair where…
 The bitter sweetness of sunset years washes her face

© Janet Martin

The Sunday Whirl

With Heart wide Open

Too often I do not even notice

This gift you give to me

But trample coldly on it

And I don’t thank you properly

For this miracle of beauty

I ought always to embrace

As your mercy lays before me

Another day of grace

© Janet Martin

Prayer: God, help us to see the beauty of this gift,

Not only now in the calm stillness,

but as the wrapping falls away

as glorious sunrises turn gray

Revealing deeper shades

Of what is as yet, unknown,

When we struggle and stumble
Or feel misunderstood; alone

When we are weary and worn

Let us not abuse or hold this gift

With impatience or scorn

For this gift you lay before us

Is no free-fall from above

It is a miracle, born of compassion

And bestowed in perfect love

Thank-you God

Of Things Cursed

Temptation dangles like a serpent

In an idle, slothful mind

The fruit gleams, sweet upon the tree

As to its vice we're blind

We long to reach and pluck it

Taste its sugar-coated dread

But its afterglow would haunt us

Like vile ghosts inside our head

While the thing that seemed so lovely

Is a curs-ed, empty shell

And the fruit that promised heaven

But a tragic glimpse of hell

For the well of carnal thirsting

Is a void nothing can quench

As the harvest of our tasting

Bears the fruit of consequence

© Janet Martin

Today's Friday Thoughts

Things are merely things

They have no good or evil spirit

It’s what mankind does with them

That defines their worth and merit.

I remember asking my dad when I was a child if such-and-such a thing is bad and I never forgot his answer...He said, ‘things are not bad. Nothing in and of itself is bad or good; it’s what we do with them that makes ‘things’ what they are. ‘Things’ have the potential for both…it’s up to us to choose how to use them!’

We cannot blame ‘things’ for our weaknesses

Things obey the command of the hands they are in

Hands obey thought
and thought, oh thought…

How prone you are

To sin

What a mighty sword we wield

Held in our thought

Prayer is its protective shield

If used a lot

It seems I hear a constant voice

And I believe its name is Choice

God, I prayed for patience…I’m still waiting for your answer…

Jesus loves me this I know

I looked into a flower

And it told me so…

© Janet Martin

Of Summer

Our first day of summer was a moody one! It began, hot, heavy and sunny before thunderstorms moved through bringing a slight cool-down and a sunset master-piece. 

Soon the gold that warms the sod

Withdraws its sultry sheen

And world’s transformed by thoughts of God

Will lose their verdant green

Too soon the lark of summer-song

Will fly off to the south

And all these hours for which we long

Devoured in Time’s mouth

Of summer

Too soon the room of July mirth

And flowers fair and sweet

Will shed their bloom back to earth

A dead rose at our feet

The shifting wave that lilts and moans

And beckons from the shore

Will heave with moody undertones

Closing the wanton door

Of summer

Ah, life will always have its share

Of care and tares and trouble

So dance upon hope's buoyant air

Before dreams turn to stubble

And you should turn with sudden grief

To see upon the hill

A silhouette of crimson leaf

And echoing quadrille

Of summer

© Janet Martin

Make this summer’s first week-end memorable!

Get out there and drink it in

Time is a tumbling water-wheel

And too soon it is over again!

I kid the kids sometimes and tell them we have two seasons at our house…Winter and potlucks!

Does anyone have any fresh pot-luck ideas? I’m stumped and it’s just June! I need food for tomorrow and a ladies’ tea-party dessert for Sunday.

The Shape of a Memory

Don’t forget me, he said,

And he slipped away

As God laid a satin spread

Across the sky to close the day

Coral-pink and amber-gold,

The ocean in her eye

Is more than firm resolve can hold

While he whispers good-by

A thousand moments blend and blur

Then slip beyond life’s reach

She wonders, does he think of her

On thought’s elusive beach

Don’t forget me, his farewell plea

Whispers in her ear

She holds the shape of memory

Within her smile; her tear

© Janet Martin

This poem's inspiration is due in part to an awesome sunset tonight and watching Ann of Green Gables in the continuing story.

Thursday Thoughts on Grudges

Holding on to grudges

Elongates grief and bitterness

Letting them go shrinks old wounds

And heals, by time’s caress

Holding on to grudges

Hurts our children

As we deny them the example

Of forgiveness

Holding on to grudges

Is like clinging to a briar-tree

There is no relief from the pain

Holding on to grudges

Robs you of the freedom

To reach out to others

Holding on to grudges

Is energy and opportunity wasted

Holding on to grudges is like drinking poison.

You kill joy

Holding on to grudges

Never works to our good

For we cannot hold a grudge

And still love as we should

If you insist on holding a grudge

Be sure you know the deal

As bitterness can bleed the life from you

And only forgiveness can heal

Grudges are often amplified misunderstandings

Grudges are the fruit of miscommunication

Grudges grow if clung to and die if released

Life is short. Don’t waste it nurturing weeds

A grudge protected and preserved drops dark and evil seeds

Holding on to grudges
depletes us of strength to let go

Holding on to grudges strengthens
our weaknesses

Holding on to grudges
Drains us of
love
thanksgiving
hope
joy
patience
peace

Holding on to grudges
fills us
with everything
contrary to
Love

© Janet Martin