Of Overflow and Undertow

 Without intentional pause, this one lily would bloom unnoticed, 

lost

In the applause of louder plumes

The riot of mere moment leaves

Within its aftermath

The Thing that brings us joy or grief

Depending on its Path

A moment is a twinkle in

The filament of years

But moment hinged to moments spins

Much more than first appears

The overflow of come and go

In moments, seems quite trite

But weaves with whispered undertow

A legacy of life

© Janet Martin

Our/Hour Garden

 Hours hinged to our deed

Yields harvest of minute seed

Some things never change

In life's gracious grant

We cannot harvest

What we do not plant

One precious lily survived the lily-beetle. 

Nothing I poured on these plants deterred those teeny beasts!

An hour is like a flower...wasted if left 'untasted'

The impact of an hour seems

An unassuming lot

But hour after hour beams

With footprints telling Thought

The ought-to-do and ought-to-be

Though Thought intends it well

Is like a pearl hurled to the sea

And kept within its shell

…and not until we bring to light

The may or might of Ought

Will others be cheered by the sight

Of our hour-plot

An hour, seems simplest of grants

Its esteem undefined

But hour hinged to hour plants

The life we leave behind

© Janet Martin

Because God is Love

For as high as the heavens are above the earth, 

So great is His lovingkindness toward those who fear Him.

 As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us. 

 Just as a father has compassion on his children, 

So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him.…

Psalm 103:11-13 

Because God is love

His care for us

Is faithful and secure

Therefore, no matter

Who we are

His promises endure

Then, when contrite

We humbly bow

Before his Throne of grace

His love forgives us

And His vow

Our sin-stain will erase

© Janet Martin

In the matter of being truthful and accountable,

I had a long and serious conversation today

with three little boys

It ended in tearful confession

....and the assurance of Jesus' forgiveness and love! 

Sometimes we forget what an AWESOME, AWESOME

merciful gift God's grace is!

Rainy-day Rondel...(because rain is one of a poet's favorite things!)

Rondel; A poem similar to a rondeau, having 13 or 14 lines with two rhymes throughout. The first and second lines reappear in the middle and at the end, although sometimes only the first line appears at the end.

They lob no lariat yet snare the dreamer in mid-stare

Where marionette-like circle notes freefall through bluesy air

And we pull up a chair to hear and feel its jazzy tease

A sax soft hid in maple-green, a trombone borne on breeze

With ease they tickle willow-keyboards, trickled tango-tune

Caught in a lily-draught like diamonds dripping from a spoon

They lob no lariat yet snare the dreamer in mid-stare

Where marionette-like circle-notes freefall through bluesy air

An orchestral arrangement no mortal can imitate

Of plush, sage-brush percussion, tap-dance on vined garden-gate

These nameless minstrels play Originals; we pause agape

…and drink a melody of wind and sea-song’s Fred Astaire

Where marionette-like circle-notes freefall through bluesy air

They lob no lariat, yet snare the dreamer in mid-stare

© Janet Martin

Are you ready for this?! asked my friend as she dropped her boys off in the pouring-rain morning!

Oh, yes, I replied, rain is one of my favorite-weather days!

Rainy-day tunes...

Fred Astaire - Songs From the Movies 1930s & 40s (Past Perfect) [Full Album]

Rainy Mood Cafe

Bereft...

When love dies it withers joy’s sail

That wafts like a song on the breeze

The green of field and fell turns pale

As a wasteland bereft of trees

And hope that tuned glad heart’s desire

Is snared in a noose, so it seems

The eye, a hearth without a fire

As it stares on the ash of Dreams

And where home rang with laughter, oh

A house, dark, cold and hollow, mourns

For days before a deadly blow

Killed the roses but left the thorns

No noise can drown the voice of guilt

No slumber grants redemption’s prize

When love dies, the world that it built

Lies like a shattered paradise

And leaves, in longing’s wailing weal

The stab of an unyielding knife

For love, when it is dead will steal

The wind from sails once full of life

One perfect Love alone bestows 

Atonement, healing, only One

We, darlings of His blood-stained woes

...where, without Him, all hope is gone

© Janet Martin