From Sack-cloth and Ashes...

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Oh that vanity would be purged from me like vomit

Oh, that pride and envy would follow suit

And oh, that what would come from it were love

Flourishing and bearing fruit

Oh, that Self would be less and others more

Second only to God

And oh, that He would have dominion and be Lord

To more than second thought

Then oh, that I would be guilty

Of nothing but a thirst

To put me in my rightful place

Of God and others first

Oh, that Satan would buffet me

Only to find alas,

That ONE far, far greater than he

No longer lets him laugh

…and oh, that when I lay me down

To sleep where eons pour

That I have prayed the Lord to keep

My soul and nothing more

© Janet Martin

I think its reading through Job right now that sort of roused a personal lament/longing in me…

 what will I do when God confronts me?
    What will I answer when called to account?
Job 31:14

Especially Life

...why we take pictures...

If it were simply sun or summer

…rain, or tea, or you and me

If it were merely toes a-tickled

By the pulling, lulling sea

If Delight were not soft-shaken

on our bitty wakefulness

if existence were all taking

without second-thoughtfulness

…if we didn’t know the difference

between beginning and the end

we would never drink so deeply

from the fount of life, my friend

…for 'tis in the solemn knowing

be it summer, you and I

be it rainbows scrawled in ether

promise on the weeping sky

…be it dipping doughnuts, dashing

where the leaves of autumn spill

be it wondering at petals

or the kettle-song when chill…

…comes creeping up the hollow

to betray our summer feet

that we begin to swallow

that which makes this life so sweet

…not in the having, having

of whatever Life will send

but rather, in the knowing

that its every Thing will end

…that’s what makes it special

© Janet Martin

Yesterday, while doing round two of a long appointment at the dentist I had ample opportunity to see many commercials on their overhead TV screen. One commercial boasted an 'endless vacation'! It got me thinking how unsatisfying such a vacation would be and it dawned on me that no matter what we enjoy-seasons, books, treats, you name it, it's in the knowing that it will end that makes it special...especially Life.

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