Saturday, August 1, 2015

Hidden Harbor

Between thunderstorms July gathered the hem of her golden evening-gown and disappeared into a blaze of glory...


All things come but to pass
Ethereal escapade
This very moment I hold fast
Hastens to its parade

From Here to There, how swift
What is becomes what was
This very afternoon adrift
On twilight’s faint applause

Parting’s presumptuous pain
Patterns its warlike art
Upon the dark; something like rain
Falls heedless from the heart

…where all things come to pass
Time follows time, but I
Would like to find the hour-glass
That harbors sweet July

© Janet Martin


On the last day of July I always feel like I'm at a farewell party. Do you?

Friday, July 31, 2015

Free For the Taking

Click on images to enlarge...
The ride home from picking up groceries took a good deal longer than expected because...


It’s free for the taking
Sight’s bread for the breaking
Where nature is waking
From want, worship’s ways
Creation delights us
And grandly invites us
Nay, dearly incites us
To give God full praise

Time’s four-season splendor
Gifts vistas of grandeur
Too countless to number
Of sky, sea and sod
The Father of mercy
To creatures unworthy
Fashions from fronds earthy
Faint glimpses of God

It’s free for beholding
God’s glory unfolding
A Masterpiece holding
Hope’s foothold in space
We pause in our plunder
Witnesses to wonder
As silences thunder
With goodness and grace

© Janet Martin

The earth is satisfied with the fruit of His works. Ps.104:13




Thursday, July 30, 2015

Summer Morning...





The sun gloats like an egg cracked into soft blue-buttered sky
Night’s shadow-world floats downstream to a tune of rise and shine
Earth is a raft of dew and dust, upon a summer sea
Come, all-aboard hope’s Trust and Must, fresh-poured for you and me

This day of grace is not like any place that we have been
It holds within its folds Unknowns that none of us have seen
Its tug-of-heart and unspun art waits on a beaming tray
Come, all aboard, the Lord abides within each come-what-may

Then amble through yon meadow, love, and ramble through yon grove
A tide beneath, around, above surges t’ward winter’s trove
And soon the sun that sizzles in this sky blue frying-pan
Will drop into a fizzle of Time’s catch-me-if-you-can

Morning’s platonic presence spills in essence pleasant, pure
Experience has taught us that it will not long endure
Thus we cannot afford anything other than our best
Come, all aboard this summer morn sailing toward the west  

© Janet Martin

 ...these two pics just in case you're hungry;-)

Well, I must sail away to the grocery store before we go anywhere else…hoping to roast mountain pies with the little guys I babysit, for supper tonight.

If the internet works I’ll show you how we do them tonight or tomorrow…generally our internet fizzles out by noon…

our internet didn't work last night and is so slow this morning!! my blogging days might end if it doesn't change:(

It ended up being too dry and windy to chance a fire so the mountain pie plans need to wait for another time... for those of you asking 'what is it?' I'll try to explain...Spray irons (pictured below) with cooking spray. Place slices of bread in each half of iron and fill with pizza toppings...we use sauce, cheese, pepperoni, ham, pineapple, onion, peppers, etc. Don't make then too full. Roast on fire til bread is toasted and cheese melted.
There is no end to what you can stuff them with but the key is the cooking spray or you can't open them without tearing the bread.


Nothing But Alas



Time’s value is priceless
It cannot be bought
Or hoarded
Or salvaged
Or sold
Then look, lest the treasure
We seek is for naught
And nothing,
Alas, but
Fool’s gold

© Janet Martin

Awesome Bittersweet




Yearning, uncertain of its name
Picks flowers, trolls dust
Kisses lips and fingertips
Chasing wanderlust

Yearning toils midst blessing-spoils
Grapples with the air
Gathers back its stolen breath
Shapes it into prayer

Yearning tastes the song of years
Awesome Bittersweet
Spewing, savoring its tears
Scattered ‘neath her feet

© Janet Martin