Where A Pale Veil Exists...

 Enter His gates with thanksgiving

And His courts with praise.

Ps.100:4

Thank-you God, grace beams from above

And draws us from our sleep

This Land of Promise burgeons, love

With bud-song none can keep

Dawn lights earth’s ancient avenue

We touch down trust-shod feet

Where melodies age-old yet new

Pour from hope’s music sheet

The garden spills in flowers for

A few short hours then

The bud that bloomed in perfect form

Is turned to dust again

Time’s treasure-trove of moments, love

Is such a precious thing

That it behooves each one of us

To sing and sing and sing

…and praise God for this gift of grace

Where a pale veil exists

To separate us from His face

With only Time betwixt

© Janet Martin

Are you writing about being fifty?, asked Victoria

Nope, I replied

Good! Age is just a number, she said

And I agreed.

Age is just the number

Not life's grief or happiness

Each year a declaration

Of God's tender faithfulness

Age is just a number
That tallies the ebb and flow
Of dawn to dusk, then tells the years
That by His grace we go

Age is just a number, love
A little kiss and tell

Thus we should wear the age we are

And try to wear it well

Farewell, Forties

What a lovely farewell-to-my-forties-party twilight threw...

 

I knew this day was coming

If Time would last

But what I did not know is...

That it would come so fast

While we are busy learning
How to work and pray
Time has a way of turning
Into yesterday

Strange how time's teeny moments
Seem small until they've passed
And there is no way of knowing
When will be the last

Better then to cherish

Life's blessings that remain

Instead of pining for that

Which cannot be again

Janet~

My heart tonight...
Goodnight:)

Trap Ease...

As parents we cannot afford to slack off on keeping vigil over our young 'uns ...

How soon they fly away!

It is easy to fall...

Time’s tightrope of moments

Is full of knots and baited spots

Which seem safe at a glance

But we are becoming

The sum of moments spent

Like trapeze artists balancing

On beams of good intent

It is easy to see

When years have spanned the gap

From where we were to where we are

How time can set a trap

The habits that bear fruit

Rooted when we were young

Whether of good or ill repute

Will shape who we become

© Janet Martin

Lost

It is boredom, not borne in hands

And thundered hiddenness

That mimics sea swept over sands

…staid repetitiveness

It whispers words like ‘woe is me’

And bleeds a blue-toned sigh

And only keeps the company

Of me, myself and I

© Janet Martin

a bit o' blues...you choose why:)

Pot of Gold

 We stood, straining to find the pot of gold where it seemed like the rainbow fell right in front of us!

 We were invited to enjoy a ride with friends on Grand River Cruises last evening to celebrate 50th birthdays.

The first hour was sunny after a rather rainy day...

...then a shower moved through beneath the sun...

...treating us to a spectacular double rainbow!

(read as four short poems or one four-stanza poem)

With strengths and weakness, gifts and flaws

We press toward love’s common cause

Between what will be and what was

We all are bound by this:

To be the best that we can be

Not by fate’s serendipity

But through faith’s kind humility

Thus bettering what is

***

So much beyond our full control

As we press to love’s common goal

Where all brokenness will be whole

And we, unscathed by fear

But in the meantime today waits

Like buds entwining rainbow-gates

Where if-then-when with dawn abates

For we make memories here

***

Summer, how soft and soon the thread

That bares its morn, noon, dusk is wed

To quickened Past; its pictures spread

Across landscapes of thought

Where here and now we hold the gold

That runs into the rigid mold

From whence rain and rainbow unfold

And leave us fully awed

***

The common goal of love is this

Not in Was or Will Be, but Is

Its multi-colored promises

Are supple yet strong-willed

For in the search to find the gold

That waits where rainbows lose their hold

We find but this; love’s common mold

Soft-waiting to be filled

© Janet Martin

Hi Brent, (he told me he'll be waiting to see some rainbow pictures;-)

  Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: 

Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 

Phil.3:13

Today's Song:

Laughter and Blessing-Kissed

Poetic Blooming Prompt; a week in haiku

Monday:

Weighted words waiting

To-do list lacks curb appeal

So I go outside

Tuesday:

People provide more

Fodder for growing chore-list

I am blessing-kissed

Wednesday:

Backdrop green, blue, gold

I am not too old to dance

June; month of romance

Thursday:

Where does the time go?

To-do lists sighs on fridge

Child governs hours

Friday:

Sweep, swish, scrub, mop, wish

Exercise would work wonders

Results may vary

Saturday:

Hoe, weed, trim, mow, sweat

Get ready for a day off

List not finished yet

Sunday:

I am laughter-kissed

Rain washes my windows

Last thing left on list

© Janet Martin