Vanilla-frosted World

Winter flung wide her cupboards

And to the earth unfurled

In soft, snow-sugar aftermath

A vanilla-frosted world

In heaps of silent splendor

Unfathomed morsels drop

And now each lowly fencepost

Is a lustrous lollipop

…and now we all are children

Fleet-foot and fancy-free

As winter spills its wonder

In vanilla-frosted glee

© Janet Martin

Inspired by my daughter as she shouted, 'Look. The world is covered in vanilla frosting!'

Of Hunger and Hauntings

(I first saw this picture last winter and it has haunted me...)

Lord, give us a heart for the hungry...

A vulture watches a starving child [1993]

“The prize-winning image: A vulture watches a starving child in southern Sudan, March 1, 1993.
Carter’s winning photo shows a heart-breaking scene of a starving child collapsed on the ground, struggling to get to a food center during a famine in the Sudan in 1993. In the background, a vulture stalks the emaciated child.

Carter was part of a group of four fearless photojournalists known as the “Bang Bang Club” who traveled throughout South Africa capturing the atrocities committed during apartheid.
Haunted by the horrific images from Sudan, Carter committed suicide in 1994 soon after receiving the award.”

'Don’t slink away now

With your head slightly bowed

While the taste of my blood

Smears your indulgent lips

Don’t splatter vain words

With your greed-polished swords

And cry ‘Lord, have mercy’

As my suffering drips

To your gaze in red pools

While a circus of fools

Sadly wags their heads

In feigned piety

As hunger and hurt

Lie with me in the dirt

Pitiful comrades

To my misery'

© Janet Martin

Of Glimpses...

 

Upon earth’s four-season duress

We can do but one small thing

One foot and then the other, love

And what these gathered steps will bring

In sundry shapes of joy and strife

Will be a little thing called life

This little thing that we call life

Spills moment-petals on a stage

Where eventide and dawn are rife

With mortal grievance of the age

And yet, against your shoulder, love

I sense a heaven up above

They say that heaven’s gate is sealed

Until we cross that dreaded tide

And only then will be revealed

The glories of ‘the other side’

But oh my love, between us two

I’ve glimpsed its bliss when I’m with you

© Janet Martin

Painting Daylight

The sun came up, dazzled the earth for approx. 15 minutes, then slipped behind a bank of clouds...

Ruby whisper fans the air

Darkness melts beneath a sigh

Ravishing the eastern sky

Morning trembles like a prayer

Night recedes; its sable span

Brims with kind proof of heaven’s grace

As nameless pigments interlace

And we cry out, ‘oh, what is man?’

Oh, what is man that He should please

Our gaze with wonders such as this?

Filling night’s void with mercy’s kiss

On grand, unfathomed galaxies

Where ruby whispers swell, expand

As we behold with awestruck heart

The Master of celestial art

Painting daylight across the land

© Janet Martin

Heart-treasure

Don’t cover me with sympathetic eyes

‘Poor housewife bound to kitchen sink and broom’

These are but mechanics of a room

They do not speak of home’s sweet paradise

The housewife, though her coffers boast no gold

Does not despise her role of unsung bliss

For she is paid in sticky toast-crumb kiss

And treasures that only a heart can hold

No PhD or credits deck the walls

But joy and happiness are not of these

Pink mitten waves and mother-memories

Echo within love’s fingerprinted halls

Oh humble haven, sweet and simply spun

She counts her blessings, not of worldly worth

Yet her wealth is the fairest of the earth

As from her door her happy children run

© Janet Martin

My hubby chuckled as he watched my eyes well with tears (tears of simple contentment) as Victoria waved vigorously from the bus window; a tradition since my oldest kids left on the school bus-there was always someone to take up the wave…and I said thank-you to him for allowing me to be at home. These are treasure I wouldn’t trade for the world. I told him that I really don’t care if there are no tropical vacations, (because a single income is strained to the max every month, and he apologizes sometimes for all we cannot do). I don’t care if we lack in ‘stuff’. By the grace of God we have enough.

Poetic Bloomings 2013 Kick-off

Kicking off the first Sunday prompt in 2013, we're(Poetic Bloomings) setting you up for some word play.

Here is a list of words:

challenge, common, mask, skill, origin,

love, night, drink, beauty, death

 

Now, here's the twist:

Write your poems using these words. BUT, none of these words can appear in your poem. Get reacquainted with your old friend Roget and use your thesaurus to find an alternate word for each, and then use THOSE words to write your poem. You choose the right word for what it is you want to say.

Man is master of disguise

Though clever he may be

Two mutual traits he cannot hide

Pride and humility

The beginning of a man

Is not by height or stature

This test of merit will begin

With our human nature

Man’s devotion is not shown

By well-shaped words he voices

Darkness and light each are made known

As action proves our choices

He who seeks wisdom from the Vine

Will be filled with good measure

While he who consumes lust’s cheap wine

Will never find its treasure

We tread toward mortal demise

And brothers all are we

For there are none who can disguise

Pride or humility

© Janet Martin

Challenge= test

Common=mutual

Mask=disguise

Skill=master

Origin=beginning

Love=devotion and lust

Night=darkness

Drink=consumes

Beauty=merit

Death=demise

Beautiful Comfort

 

 Matthew 6:9-13

For thine is the kingdom, the power and glory

Though ages, eons and eternities roll

Nothing and no one can succeed the power

Of He whose shed blood redeems man’s wretched soul

Compassion and mercy and grace fill his right Hand

Holiness, judgment and wrath fills His left

Love, perfect love without end or beginning

IS ever IS in the Rock that was cleft

He who created this transient existence

Will never fail; He is eternal God

He who beholds our stubborn resistance

Brushes with miracles earth’s sin-cursed sod

Into the sky He flings His awesome grandeur

Dawning and dusk flame with His holy power

Into our hearts He spills heavenly wonder

Saving us from Death’s shuttering hour

‘For thine is the kingdom, the power and glory

Forever and ever and ever, Amen’

Beautiful comfort amidst this world’s boasting

Jesus IS Lord, Savior, King of kings

© Janet Martin

Sometimes, as I pray the Lord’s Prayer these familiar words stun me with fresh wonder.

May you all have a blessed and holy Sunday.

Of Friends

After all is said and done

And this small life draws to an end

Our dearest worth upon this earth

Must surely be that of a friend

Life’s road yawns into the unknown

With many a trying twist and bend

Yet darkest miles are warm with smiles

If we can share them with a friend

‘To have a friend we must be one’

This truth is surely ages-old

And oh, the measure of its treasure

Cannot in humble words be told

For friends, in spite of us, are true

Seeing beyond the veil of skin

They weep and laugh and pray with you

To fill the empty cup within

…so, after all is said and done

Regardless of what life may send

The dearest, rarest, purest wealth

Is ever found within a friend

© Janet Martin

Dedicated to my dear friends.
The wonderful time at our writer's group last night
reminded me how truly wonderful and priceless good friends are...

You enrich my life more than mere word can tell.

Thank-you.

Double-edged Touch

 

One some days love is a rose

A mantle of joy

And breath-stealing tenderness

Melodies spill effortlessly

Beneath its

Caress

On some days I cannot write

About love

Because it hurts too much

As I tremble beneath

Its bittersweet

Double-edged touch

J~

Invisible Orchestra

 

If you listen, darling
Well,you won’t hear a thing
It’s a keen unwritten
Language
Caught in whispers
Deep within
As I feel within my heartbeat
The tempo of perfect pain
Its timbre, blue and bitter-sweet
Yet, warm as August rain
Rising from thought's surging ocean
In a sweeping melody
Its tenure of emotion
Like a storm on midnight’s sea
For its whisper is a tempest,
Yet its tempest but a sigh
As its pinnacle of passion
Spawns a teardrop in my eye
And, if you listen closely
Well, you still won’t hear a thing
But I can hear it clearly
In a montage deep within
Its lips upon my memory
And its throb against each breath
Its notes a sudden longing
And an aching in my chest
Not a flicker, not a murmur
Not a single, tiny trace
Of the orchestra within me
But the half-smile on my face

J~

The Maestro of Time composes such music...

Soundless Rush

Time makes no sound as it rushes

In moment-spun centuries

Gathering within its surging wake

Nothing, but memories

Thought is a wandering way-farer

Treading where feet cannot go

Back to the hours that silently slipped

Into Time’s ethereal flow

Within its ephemeral fabric

Of woven mortality

Are heart-wrenching triumphs and sorrows

Brief as sun-sparkles at sea

The babble of being distracts us

From Time’s intangible rush

But oh, just now I felt on my cheek

A drop from its relentless brush

© J~

My 'soundless rush' will soon be full of noise

...the kind made only by four fourteen year-old boys!:)

Matt has some friends over. I think they finally went to sleep a few hours ago!

When This Day...

When this day is naught but an echo

Tuning its wisp of a sigh

Crooning ‘cross mesmerized meadow

Where sweet tender memories lie...

When this day is merely a murmur

Deep in the archives of thought

Like timorous strains of a swan-song

Keening love’s double-edge jot...

When this day is nothing but moments

Gathered back into the air

Where only our memories touch them

Meeting their infinite stare...

...When this day sweeps into the sunset

Riding on time’s winsome wing

And all we can see is its memory

Will it be beautiful thing?

© Janet Martin

I heard the echoes today while skiing the trail we walk in the other three seasons.

Sweet, Sweet the Still

Sweet, sweet the still

Of fall’s repose

The dormant season

Of the rose

Where drifting dirge

In memory flows

Across earth’s tempered tides

Of grassy green and vesper-lay

Of clover mien and summer-day

Of sun-kissed scene and willow-sway

Where retrospect resides

Sweet, sweet the still

Of winter hush

The woodland void

Of lark and thrush

Where landscapes bow

Beneath a brush

Dripping with ice and snow

Over the umber aftermath

Of summer’s dusty barefoot path

Where in the quiet echoes laugh

In tender afterglow

Sweet, sweet the still

Of mantled brook

Of winter laden

Summer-nook

Of aspen-song

And bloom forsook

Beneath gust-gilded glaze

Sweet, sweet the still of nature’s surge

The emptiness of autumn’s purge

The wonderment of snowflake splurge

Embellishing our gaze

© Janet Martin 

I love getting out on winter mornings to listen to the quiet.

 And yes, it is finally white!

Oh, to Remember

Oh, to remember the tenderness

With which God so loves us

Too often, absorbed in our feeble wants

We forget to thank Him thus

Oh, to remember Love’s tender price

He sent His son to give

His death, for us a sacrifice

So that we may live

Oh, to remember His love out-poured

From then unto this hour

God’s grace shed in redemption’s flood

Will never lose its power

Oh, to remember the tenderness

Of a heavenly Father’s love

Who gave His only begotten Son

His depth of love to prove

© Janet Martin

The first two lines in the poem were a comment from a reader

earlier today…its wonder rushed through me. Yes, Teri, oh to remember!

On Judging...

 

To the undiscerning mind

Judgment often seems unkind

We ought not to judge our fellowman

But treat him the best way that we can

Yet in this outpouring of love

We ought never to approve

Of selfish disobedience

Yielding sin’s awful recompense

God’s Word is Truth, Wisdom and Light

Its judgments sound, perfect and right

It will correct, instruct, reprove

And teach us how to live in love

Yes, judgment often seems unkind

If discernment’s eye is blind

God’s Word stands firm; time can’t annul

Alpha and Omega’s rule

© Janet Martin

It's challenging; trying to teach kids the difference between judging and holding fast to the right by not approving what God's Word teaches is wrong. Yes, we are not to judge, but to love. God will be our judge. His Law, the measuring stick of right and wrong.

I've been pondering what I read here.

Of Ethereal Cups

Today, for all that it may lack

Or nevermore will be

Is a wee cup that we fill up

With living’s memory

Today, for better or for worse

We tread its tender path

Soon it will be a memory

Time’s precious aftermath

Today, before it slips away

To past’s eternity

May we employ peace, love and joy

Into its memory

Today will never dawn again

Softly it comes, to pass

Both good and ill has no re-fill

Within its hour glass

Today; a once in every life-time

Opportunity

As we fill up this ethereal cup

With living's memory

© Janet Martin

I read this poem this morning...it struck a chord.

What I Call Living... by Edgar A. Guest (one of my favorite poets ever)

The miser thinks he's living when he's hoarding up his gold;

The soldier calls it living when he's doing something bold;

The sailor thinks it living to be tossed upon the sea,

And upon this vital subject no two of us agree.

But I hold to the opinion, as I walk my way along,

That living's made of laughter and good-fellowship and song.

I wouldn't call it living always to be seeking gold,

To bank all the present gladness for the days when I'll be old.

I wouldn't call it living to spend all my strength for fame,

And forego the many pleasures which to-day are mine to claim.

I wouldn't for the splendor of the world set out to roam,

And forsake my laughing children and the peace I know at home

.Oh, the thing that I call living isn't gold or fame at all!

It's good-fellowship and sunshine, and it's roses by the wall;

It's evenings glad with music and a hearth fire that's ablaze,

And the joys which come to mortals in a thousand different ways.

It is laughter and contentment and the struggle for a goal;

It is everything that's needful in the shaping of a soul.

Heart-state

Christmas is a state

Not of house, but of heart

So help me, dear Jesus

To do my part

To spread its glad tidings

Of goodwill and cheer

Not simply at Christmas

But all through the year

© Janet Martin

Putting away Christmas decor always makes me a little blue,

but then I remember; I am not packing away Christmas...just the clutter:)

Here's to the spirit of Christmas...every day!

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." Matt.1:21

Second Chances

 

 

You held it to me in the gentlest of ways
I blushed in embarrassment beneath your kind gaze
As You pulled back the wraps of pink and pale blue
And whispered, ‘My dear, I have something for you’

It was so beautiful, perfect, unmarred
I looked at my old one, so battered and scarred
But You did not remind me of my tangled mess
As you gazed at me in profound tenderness

‘Don’t look at the old one’, I felt His embrace
As He brushed the tears of regret from my face
‘I love You, I am with you, I’ll show you the way’
And He placed into my arms a brand new day

Janet~

A post from my old blog

 

A friend posted this on her face-book page today. Thank-you Megan. I needed to be re-reminded:)

Moment-strings

 

Once upon a time they seemed, it seemed

Bold hindrance twixt present and future-dream

Now these diamonds, strung into the mist

Flaunt their transience dissolved when kissed

How is it that I, when I was young

Pranced over their worth, soft, silver-strung

Now, foolishly though I grope and I reach

All I can touch is the lessons they teach

© Janet Martin

Beyond Philosophy

When my pen is a shackle

And Muse flaunts her noose

I flee to earth’s foothills

Fancy-free and footloose

When hope is a hunger

And Duty is bleak

I find in God’s garden

The things that I seek

In babble of brook-song

In whisper of wind

In nature’s caresses

Both humble, yet grand

In the rush of the seasons

The hush of the night

God’s rejuvenation

Brings faith to my sight

…and the pen becomes weightless

Muse’s noose is a bluff

As thought sings God’s praises

And that is enough

© Janet Martin

Evolvements~

 

You have become

My tender-most part

A tear in my eye

And an ache in my heart

You have become

My beautiful dread

Half-smile on my lips

Love-song in my head

You have become

My perfect romance

Held in the arms

Of thought's gentle dance

You have become

My bittersweet bliss

A sweet memory

Of what no longer is

© Janet Martin

Questionku

Poetic Bloomings challenges us to attempt the questionku

Questionku is a new short form by Richard Lamoureux. By definition it consists of three lines:

Line one:  4 syllables.

Line 2:  5 syllables.

Line 3:  A 6-syllable question.

Questionku on The Wonder of Him

God holds the earth

He saves our souls

Why do we yet doubt Him?

***

God speaks; it IS

None can thwart His will

Is there any greater?

***

God loves us so

Beyond human grasp

Will we ignore His grace?

© Janet Martin

Where Do You Go and How? ...edited re-post

Where and how do you go, old year?

Running and thrumming and flying, my dear

Leaping and sleeping and crying, it’s clear

You have one destination in mind

Dashing and dancing, a skip and a whirl

Grinning and glancing, a trip and a twirl

Crooning and moaning, a swish and a swirl

With only your song left behind

Where do you go and how, dear sir

Spring, summer, fall and back to winter

Don't close your eyes for time is a blur

And slips through our fingers with glee

Where do you go and how, old year

Fleeter your foot with age now I fear

So cherish dear loved ones and hold them near

For Time offers no guarantee

Where do you go so swiftly now

Into the sky on the winds that blow

Never a curtsy, no wave or a bow

Silently into the night

Echo of laughter, of longing’s blue tear

Hope for tomorrow gleams on the New Year

Parting is such sweet sorrow, my dear

Softly you slip out of sight

Janet~

The Same, More or Less

 

Less negativity

More optimism

Less of me

And more of Him

Less grumbling

More thankfulness

Less harshness

More tenderness

Less criticism

More encouragement

Less procrastination

More confidence

Less waste

More care

Less haste

More prayer

Each day is a chance

More or less the same

It’s up to us

Which one we claim 

Janet~

It is Morning... 2013

It is morning

Somewhere in the dark

The old became new

It is morning

On the first page

Of a blank journal

It is morning

The end has become

The beginning

It is morning

And once again

By the grace of God go we

© Janet Martin

May God instill in us renewed desire and hope

To honor and glorify Him in 2013

  To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—  to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.  Jude 1:24-25