Motto for More than Goose-bumps

Lord, may my worship ever be

Not moved by mere emotion

But by thankful humility

Of sincere devotion

Lord, may my happiness be pure

And independent of

Life’s gray and gold exterior

But rooted in this; Love

© Janet Martin

It's so easy to be moved by goose-bumps

of emotion

'Study to show thyself approved'

In day-by-day devotion

Of Think-land and Ink

We blink, the murky ink of dreamland dissipates; the stars

Like sun-sparkles on midnight’s lake alight on other shores

And now we think ahead to fit the unknowns to our Knowns

Not able to forecast the layout of its stepping stones

So many me-me-mes push, push to be our number one

And oh, we think-think-think, but thought alone gets nothing done

Our more-or-lesses are not more than other wars oft fought

The birthing room of the unknown trembles beyond our thought

The mind is never satisfied; its greedy appetite

Slams us with life’s fresh flavors; we must choose which fruit to bite

For wrong and right are not a hoax; thought’s aftermath the road

That future generations fight and cover with their blood

We blink. The ink of think-think-think drips from primed and poised pens

The more we live the less we know, it seems, but then again

With mouths wide open we inhale and never choke on gold

God tips Time’s ephemeral grail into our hollow hold

We drink. Hope’s highway to the stars is paved with the success

Of rebounding by heaven’s grace from shame and recklessness

Our wide eyes reach but cannot fit unknowns against our knowns

But trust the One who lays His grip beneath Love’s steppingstones

© Janet Martin

 Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer. Ps.19:14

Mid-night Merlot

Now daylight climbs those far-off stairs leading to prostrate past

The whistling lamplighter of stars tends to his twilight task

Now stammering and clamoring and all its kindred-mates

Muffle, caught in the shuffle of moon-beams on silver slates

Now barefoot boys are stripped of noise; silk slumber-streams unfurl

While dragons holed in horror-haunts their phantom terrors hurl

And all the colors of the world are black and charcoal-gray

Where autumn is a martinet of orange-gold-red by day

The baron is a beggar and the poet is a lord

Word-wisps are frigates set adrift where dark of dark is poured

And even though we close our eyes the charter of a thought

Is never stilled or held at bay by what sight sees as naught

Drink deep; vintage of velvet froth is pungent as it drips

Hard, hard upon the heart of hearts and soft upon the lips

Nothing of life is salvaged save the flowers that we toss

Into life's vat of memories; love’s soul-sweet albatross

© Janet Martin

Summer is never really over because...

...change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in.
Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury

First Day of Autumn Poem

Worn wind wanders wooded wild

Leaf-song is its summer-child

Swift, suave generations falter

Time’s cradle; consummate alter

Wish and whimsy cannot keep

Broken blossoms from their sleep

Like free-thinkers laud rebellion

Dreamer's cling to leaf-medallion

Pretty posy, fair art thou

Yet soon, soon thy head wilt bow

We are like a field of flowers

All of life must yield to hours

Lilt of lavender, oh my

How you tease the breeze and I

But no gardener can garner

Summer, save in jelly-larders

Whiff of wonderment is Time

Twisted stubble-pocked rose-rhyme

Taste its salt-tears where surrender

Succumbs first to autumn splendor

©Janet Martin

Yesterday the weatherman said its looks like Autumn is going to make amends for what some called a ‘bummer of a summer’!

I'm not sure if every-one's google-page looks the same but today's first day of autumn page just makes one smile and feel good! 

September Kissed Her

Bliss it is to be like this

Tangled in her twist of mist

Sage plumage September-kissed

Love is laced with amethyst

Tapestry of teeming tree

Majesty of mulled, hulled lea

Moment-mustered infantry

Spills sun-sparkles on life’s sea

Russet rafters, laughter-bent

‘neath a blue and brooding tent

Cork the torque of Time’s intent

While September pays her rent

Fact and fantasy slur, blur

It is almost still summer

Pour thought’s storehouse full of Her

She which we call September

We indulge her wanderlust

Duck beneath the stern of Must

Lest she dies, lies dust-to-dust

Blown to naught by naughty gust

Love is laced with amethyst

Tangled in a twist of mist

Bliss it is to be like this

Sage with age; September-kissed

© Janet Martin

Hubby just called. He is driving through Wisconsin and he said the trees and scenery are already autumn-stellar! (well, not those words exactly but he said they are really nice bright orange and red and he wishes I could see it) ...me too.