In Search of a Poem...

Will you lure from nothingness; out of stiff air

Sparkle of gladness in word-whispered fare?

Will you take the quill of this Duty-bent will

Filling its font with your word-whispered thrill?

Will you vex and tease and then softly appease

The thirst of a poet with word-whispered ease?

Hope is a frigate, test-riddled with time

Will you still thought's tempest with word-whispered rhyme?

Ah, secrets and sorrows perplexing the heart

Will you lend your beauty with word-whispered art?

I am a beggar starved for your caress

Will you fill my wanting with word-whispered ‘yes’?

© Janet Martin

On This Transport...

On this transport from sod to sky

Well-springs of faith would oft run dry

But for His Well; oh praise the Lord

He fills parched shells with Living Word

We are a beaten, broken race

Doomed to destruction, but for grace

Oh, Lord, God, Keeper of the soul

You make the broken sinner whole

Across Time’s sorrow-stricken dirt

Our hearts and hands are scarred with hurt

Life’s grief would be hell’s first foretaste

But for the One who gives us grace

Temptation-prone and weak are we

But for the One who sets us free

On this transport from sod to sky

Love binds our brokenness; we fly

© Janet Martin

I woke with the first line coming to me as I looked at the sky…thinking, here we are, another day on this transport from sod to sky.

They are broken who mock the broken, hound the broken, chase the broken and feast on the broken…

oh, how it saddens me to see brokenness prey on brokenness! we ought only to pray for the broken because we are all broken somewhere!

I thank Thee that Thou hast answered me and hast become my salvation. Ps116:21

Not to us, oh Lord, not to us, but to Thy name give glory,

for the sake of thy steadfast love and thy faithfulness! Ps. 115:1

Thursday Thoughts to Make us Think

If I am the only ‘Jesus’

That some will ever see

I wonder what they think of Him

As they meet Him through me

***

We are becoming who we will be...so be carefully.

***

Lord, hone the hope of my heart with Your fire

Lest my boast is the naught of wicked men’s desire

***

When dreams become burdens

Instead of blessing

Put them down

And look up

***

The Lord is high above all nations

His glory above the heavens…

We ought to live righteously, soberly

For we stand in a Holy Presence

***

What our eyes see can soon distract

Thought-fantasy confuses fact

But Truth is Truth and will remain

When we can see clearly again

***

I hold you closer

For such is a heart

…shoulder to shoulder,

Though land-miles apart

***

Attitude hinders or helps us cope

It mirrors the Thing in which we hope

***

The dust of another day settles

In past’s irreversible hold

Lord, I pray among the nettles

You find a few nuggets of gold

Janet~

Summer Re-visited

On dewy dawn soft shadow splays

Across the lawn; its fretwork maze

Embellishing an emerald sash

Where soon swift carefree bare feet dash

And softer zephyrs strum a sea

Of half-sprung rye, its melody

A farmer’s hope and dreamer’s bliss

And summer’s sun-kissed happiness

The bud has broken into bloom

Its token tune’s earth’s living-room

And we are all fear-free and wild

As every gladsome summer child

And long we lie beneath the tree

Of willow-song and memory

Where daisy chains teased fingertips

And berry stains sweetened our lips

How distant now that gritty gale

Of sleet and snow and ice travail

Sun-sparkle frays in coffee cups

Hope leaps and plays like eager pups

Where children squeal and laugh and run

Across a year of rising sun

And mothers scold and hug and call

Before the bolder tug of fall

© Janet Martin

I was traipsing along in Monica's snowy footprints when suddenly she swept me into a sun-sparkly summer day...so I stayed a while;)

 I love all seasons but...ch-ch-ch-chattering teeth and c-c-c-cold! vehicles need a break now and then. We didn't get a major January thaw as some predicted and we are in a deep freeze for the remainder of the month according to weather forecasters.

Of Segues and Skylines...

From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the LORD is to be praised. Ps.113:3

Already midnight’s moon has shrunk

…a half-slice in the sky

Where morning spreads a feast

Across the east in gold reply

Into the archives yesterday

Has sealed its memory

We tread its stilted fulcrum now

…segue to what will be

Our mainstream and mundane

May dare to glibly prophesy

What will unfold before today

Returns into the sky

Yet life offers no guarantee

The leaping dawn conceals

A myriad of mystery

Upon Time’s yawing reels

The Brigadoon of which we dream

And fix our fantasy

Exists, not in quixotic realms

Beyond this moment-spree

But in each inhale, exhale

Open, shutting of our eyes

We live, laugh, love upon a trail

To Heaven’s paradise

© Janet Martin

Of Dusk and De-railed Trains...

Dusk drains the day in burnished pink

Before a dark and deeper hue

Folds skylines ‘neath its hem; the brink

Of earth a figment wrapped in blue

And where noon’s merry moments fell

Like sun-sparkles into life’s stream

Twilight’s calm torrent floods the dell

A tranquil tide tunes star-requiem

Jostling and lagging squanderers

Of dark begin to come alive

Where street and porch-light whisperers

Hail passer-byes to step inside

But I prefer the moon-swept hill

Deprived artists and poets sleep

Still, I prefer to stay until

Star-song recedes into pale deep

Soon Time will tug night’s navy drape

From ocean-scape, sea-shore and street

This dusk to dawn a brief escape

Before rush-hour’s bitter-sweet

Maybe, someday I’ll say a prayer

As slumber stills the mind, and then

This poet will be sleeping where

The night will pass without a pen

© Janet Martin

…as the sun was setting I snatched the first line but couldn’t return to it again until way past sleep-time; my original train of thought long-thence derailed, I close my eyes and cut loose…it’s fun;)

Half-past Wondering

The clock climbs over

curves of a year

too quickly

closing the window of fantasy

a little farther

with every added candle

…pushing Future to Past

in shortcuts

it seems.

Dreams

follow the sky

that has fallen over her dusk

nigh fifty years

its dust stoking the light in her eyes

occasionally

or

is it tears?

Once upon a time

air was enough

to lure her to life’s dance-floor,

tossing caution to tomorrow

tipping the glass of freedom

daring to drink

too much

…no regrets

Bests have humbled her.

Tests have taught her.

Stumbles and fumbles

her legacy

as she reaches for the sky

and learns to fly.

Perhaps

she has never been wooed

completely

but she has been loved

and blessed

…her heart broken

Once

© Janet Martin

Of Merchants and Morning-gold

Dawn draws darkness from our windows

Where dusk drew its shutters tight

Through the latticework of limb-frames

Morning fills Time’s bowl with light

And we, merchants of its measure

Cannot pocket heaven-gold

Tithed alike to all, this treasure

Spills freely from mercy’s hold

Will we waste or handle wisely

This allowance of God’s love?

This is not mere nature-notion

Drenching pasture, street and grove

Dawn draws darkness from our windows

See the sieve of mercy sift

Gold-gray nuggets shaped in moments

To we, merchants of Time’s gift

© Janet Martin

As you have likely noticed, this is the window from which I purvey each day-break. This morning flung a rampant river of gold, in spite of FREEZING cold!