Orbit's Offspring

The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

Psalm 90:10 

 A man,(over fourscore years) once part of this community, raising a large family, running a flourishing farm, the other day with one half-breath went the way from Is to Was...

While we are part of the IS we ought to heed earnestly this earthy Was, because eternity will be a Forever IS and never, ever Was!

Seamless severing slips through stars

Tugs midnight’s shrug from eastward bars

Fills far-off hills and streets with this;

Fresh affirmation that God IS

Rubric of thousand-thousand years

Abuts each day that disappears

Where evidence lingers a bit

Then falls prey to the nay of it

The common order of the clock

Is achieved through fixed tick and tock

And none as yet have found a way

To alter what begets each day

We make plans; stand up straight tall

Only to fall where shadows fall

With shoulders squared we shouldered youth

Quite unprepared for timeless Truth

…how birth and death closely aligned

Are breath by subtle breath defined

As earth orbits the sun, marks years

Where what is new soon disappears

© Janet Martin

What in the world happened to the first month of this New Year?!! 

Only one more week left of January 2017 before it too slips into the archives of Eden

In Praise of Poetry

Poetry shouts loudest

In quietest places

It brims from sudden

Surprising showcases

Poetry needs no

Grandstand or applause

Its accolades whispered

In awed oohs and a-ahs

Poetry dances

Poetry sings

Rushes and hushes

And tickles heartstrings

Poetry listens

Poetry speaks

Poetry kisses

Life’s love-riddled cheeks

Poetry praises

Poetry prays

Poetry preaches

Without pious phrase

Poetry ponders

Pages, wonder-crowned

Poetry thunders

With nary a sound

© Janet Martin

Waiting For Yellow Hellos

We are trying to recall our last yellow-hello morning...it's well over a week ago!

The sky aches; breaks in little lakes on lawns, gardens and such

Its jazzy-blues in raindrop hues drips through dawn’s brooding touch

Where moody fell and gloomy dell swell with the knell of notes

Dashing on streets, splashing on windowpanes and overcoats

The color-wheel of nature waits for more than somber tones

And off-key melodies that rankle winter-weary bones  

Time takes its time sometimes it seems, to succor human hurt

Like glory-hallelujah prizes slumb’ring in cold dirt

Someday the yellow hello of sunshine and daffodils

Will run its mellow cello-tune across boondocks and hills

Where we will have forgotten the color-forsaken hours

Because we will be knee-deep in spring’s sheet-music of flowers

© Janet Martin

In Spite Of Its Costume

 'It's a very nice day', remarked little Luke yesterday, 

with his back turned to the gray-drippy outdoors and his eyes pre-tasting the colorful fruit treat he was mixing...

We've had gray-on-gray day-after-day for more mornings than any of us would choose 

but we don't decide the color of dawn's dress...

and though at first glance each gray day may seem like a carbon-copy of the previous we know no two are alike in spite of its costume!

That gold gong in yon belfry is muffled by gray on gray

Wall-to-wall tulle keeps the full sweep of countryside at bay

Those ‘pastures green’ we dream of wallow in a world of mud

Earth’s tree-lines skimmed with breathy brume and winter’s bastioned bud

Gladness is like a song we sing in spite of what is not

The sadness-es deemed for this day will spill hope’s care-filled lot

Life’s sit-and-spin, its grit-and-grin, its what-must-be-will-be

Flings wide the door of every morn to opportunity

Daybreak is like a lake, lack-luster; lost in in its own fray

Its landscape lies beneath a cape of shapeless, weightless gray

We wake and sleep, weep, laugh and leap across its brief commune

And make the best it, oh yes, in spite of its costume

© Janet Martin

 How are you making Best today?!

I think I'll kitchen putter with some cleaning-cooking-baking! 

I've NEVER heard any complaints yet when I choose this Saturday-activity😀

Something Worth Striving For...To Be, Not Simply Do

I've found when my attitude is not as it should be then no matter how good the deed may seem, the joy and blessing of its Doing is missed

The Doing and the Being

Not so very far apart

But one is rendered by the hand

The other by the heart

I’d rather be with someone kind

Than one who does kind things

For someone who is kind, is kind

No matter what life brings

Be good, be kind, be patient

This is more than sound advice

It makes the person who we are

Inside be, not do ‘nice’

© Janet Martin

 Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil.

Prov.3:7