Not Moments, But Their Reason

The highlights that we celebrate soon slip into the past

Like lowlights of late afternoon meld with the dusk's shadow-trove

I’m glad it is not moments but their reasons we hold fast

As tears of joy and sorrow flow in testaments of love

The dark vales that we pass through, (ah, we pass through to the Light

Where we are far more thankful than we were before its test)

Redeems the dreams that never do come true but comforts sight

With humbler ways of wanting and accepting Mercy’s best

Oh, praise the Lord, for He is good, He hears the prayers of we

Who do not always know what we should ask for at the first

Then, as Love intercedes for our good we come to see

And hearts prone to uncertainty are hope and joy immersed

The highlights that we celebrate soon dim like day’s demise

The lowlight of moments passed through our touch flicker then fade

Where time always refurbishes the wonder for our sighs

And leaves us with the awesome charge of mem’ries almost made

© Janet Martin

The highlights that we celebrate soon slip into the past...

 

I'm glad it is not moments but their Reason we hold fast...

Poet-tude...

Aren't you glad for all the poet's who dipped their quills into the quiet 'poet-tude' of middle day or middle night to find the poem waiting to be brought to light?!

The above poem was penned in 1787.

One’s very skin can ache with weight of what does not exist

Though it laughs in the wind that washes white and amethyst

And sometimes just the thought of seeing you for the first time

Provokes the pulse of poets scavenging the air for rhyme

Ah, just the possibility of you keeps one awake

Where you are nothing more as yet, than longing’s nameless ache

Peering into a lake that mirrors days and dreams gone by

Which cannot be appeased by these; a smile, a tear, a sigh

Strange suffering, this ecstasy of yen-anointed cast

Where poetry must ever be the phoenix born of Past

Thus, sometimes just the thought of seeing you for the first time

Sends poet-pulses racing as they chase the air for rhyme

The heart is far too small to hold the seasons as they fly

Where we are all first-timers learning the art of good-bye

And all of us are taken by surprise, it seems to me

...by the holding-on-letting-go composing poetry

© Janet Martin

The boys I babysit are having their after-lunch TV-time and suddenly the quiet kitchen seems itchin’ for poetry;-)

Oops, a basket-ball just bounced/thudded into the kitchen!

I think the hour of poet-tude is over.

On Frozen Centuries...

The world wears airs of gain and loss

And winter’s quiet trees

Where wings winds lonesome wail across

The corpse of centuries

Daybreak births untried lows and highs

Earth’s seasoned eons ache

While Heaven wakes its latest prize

For dusk alone to take

Beneath the arc of thinning dark

Time’s tin cup tips and spills

With gold to rich and poor alike

It fades far blue foothills

Today; ah, what a little word

And yet, how very large

As human heart and soul is stirred

By Mercy’s awesome charge

Where we of little more than faith

Touch time’s fresh-fashioned sprees

And trample the white-shrouded wraith

Of frozen centuries

...to fan the flame of hope and love

Where our forefathers lie

Their footsteps silenced in a trove

Of truths that cannot die

© Janet Martin

 Do not be deceived: 

God cannot be mocked. 

A man reaps what he sows.

Gal.6:7

Twenty-Seventeen

Timid, I taste The Number

Ah, what a stranger, This

That drew us from our slumber

With morning’s routine kiss

Time does not seem to notice

Undeterred, though we sigh

And grapple with the digits

Which never tell a lie

…but chart with staid enforcement

The discourse of a year

That gathers to annulment

Each treasured smile and tear

Sometimes I think Time cruel

Sometimes I think it kind

Time just ignores the duel

Played out twixt heart and mind

More bent it seems on numbers

Charting with tick and tock

Each season that soon slumbers

Where none but echoes walk

© Janet Martin

I couldn't revel in sentimentality yesterday morning because we had to get to church on time;-) 

Allowing myself a little dip into the where-does-the-time-go pool before I can taste this number without it jolting my senses every time I hear it!!

The only number this squirrel seems to care about is the number of nuts in his pantry:)

I've been noticing a network of tunnels under the snow and this morning I found out why!

They look exactly like this video from youtube

Love-Driven...

What wonder-fullest purpose

Bestows night’s dark with day

And satisfies the ages

With more than moment-fray

What divine-driven wooing

Augments morn’s common ‘up’

And metes from mortal doing

More than the mind can cup

What heaven-happy reason

What earth-imperfect laud

If, in and out of season

We live to love our God

What wonder-fullest purpose

Would then anoint each touch 

If all we do is because

We love God oh, so much

© Janet Martin

Our Sunday-morning-New Year message challenged us to ponder what drives us from our beds each morning…Is it

I owe, I owe, so off to work I go,

I have to,

I should, must, for me-he-her

Or is it more than that?!

What if we were compelled each day to live fully because of our love for Christ?!

See full message here