Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Time's Touch



I don't know about you, 
but for me this summer has been a blur of busy-ness 
with little boys,
blooms 
and the bustle of Becoming... 


This blink of blue
This drink of dew
This pink prelude
To night
This hip-hooray
Of yea and nay’s
Voracious appetite

This shred of silk
This bread and milk
This threaded ilk
Of awe
This weight of care
A gate to prayer
This grin-and-bear
Guffaw

This blur of youth
Him, her, lies, truth
This wise or uncouth
Leap
This dream-come-true
This how-are-you
I love you too
Wake-sleep

This hold-let-go
This high and low
This bye-hello
Ado
This fret and fuss
And bless and cuss
That vexes
Me and you

This brief alloy
Of grief and joy
Of leaf-ahoy
And such
Of that and this
Is like a kiss
We dare not miss
….time’s touch

© Janet Martin

Silk Slipper



A few Petals snared where summer, silk-slippered, tiptoes through our stare...



Blush beacon breaks through plush of slumber-land’s mist-hushed reprieve
Obscurity thins like the skin of Time revealing truth
Daylight dissolves the walls that veiled a world of make-believe
Earth sprawls beneath both tender touch and brawls of the uncouth
Courage and cowardice, rivals since Eden barred its gates
Proceed into the battlefield where no one knows what waits

A scarf of diamonds decks the place where grace and malice spar
Dread and delight finds footholds in the fathoms of the mind
Today unfolds its gray and gold to young and old; Time’s war
Wakens weapons of word and will with intent ill or kind
While all the while earth's smile, in spite of guile and gall of man
Bleeds flowers to flushed bowers bent with God’s cemented plan

Ripe raspberries, like clustered rubies stain fingers and lips
Summer’s sleek, silk-spun sea-song rushes over hill and dale
A shiny lake that breaks into a tidal-waved eclipse
While pioneers of progress salvage petals in a pail
Of little leaf, of singing brook, love’s afternoon soft-pressed
Between the pages of a book bound in the human breast

© Janet Martin



Monday, July 17, 2017

Heaven on Earth Must Be July...and latest Dave update!








Have you nigh-buckled ‘neath the weight of gladness in your breast
Where heath is steeped with shades of wheat touching halcyon sky
And gardens flow through fence-rows feathered with wild-flower zest
Like signatures of summer on earth’s heaven-glimpse; July

Have you been struck with wonder at the plunder of a bud
And like a child gazed long and deep into its mystic eye
Where green and gold gently enfold nature’s mosaic flood
In the thing nearest to heaven on earth; middle July

Have you looked up to drink sea-song from boughs laden with soul?
Where heat is sweet as honeysuckle dripping from its sigh
And Queen Ann’s lace fringes the places that we like to loll
We want for naught when heaven ruffles earth with mid-July

Have you let noon run blue through lips stained with raspberry pink?
And let the cloak of dappled shadow clothe you where you lie?
Have you nigh-buckled ‘neath the weight of summer’s poem-ink
Where surely heaven’s poetry on earth must be July

© Janet Martin




Sorry for missing the last few updates. (Some hectic days)We are thankful that everything keeps going forward even if it seems slower now. Healing takes one thing; Time...actually two! Karen reminds us that it also takes patience.

Hi Everyone
Dave is still improving every day. Not noticing as much change as we did before except not resting as much during the day. He is busy doing his exercises from the therapist. They will be coming 4 times this week and I think 3 times next week. Next week he has two doctor appointments as well.
He is back in bed sleeping but still gets up during the night for pain pills and is usually back in his chair about 6:00 a.m.. I think the days are getting little longer for him now so he is up to visitors if you want to drop by, even for a few minutes to help pass his day.
Please continue with the prayers as I know it is hard for him, especially since we know what is wrong with his right arm; 2 torn tendons and 2 partial tears that will take a long time to heal! He is figuring out how to do the daily routine but it is a lot of work for him and it tires him out.
Prayer for patience appreciated. Thank-you!

Praise God...



The Outreach/Teaching Pastor of our congregation is in a country in Africa...here is an excerpt on how he described a worship service where they congregated at a church in a massive slum...
 
  "The service started at 10:30 and 4 churches gathered as one.  The service lasted till about 4:00 p.m.  Yes – that is about 5 ½ hours! We sang and sang and danced and sang.  'Someone' led the breaking of bread and we sang a lot more, I preached and then we sang and sang and they welcomed each and every guest...."
Don't stories like this simply compel us to join in?! A foretaste of Heaven on earth!

(This is a read-one-verse-only-if-you-prefer poem, 
because penning praise is an on-going song...)

Praise God; time thunders with the proof of mercy’s boundless fount
Man’s visage cannot comprehend the endlessness of He
Who hangs on spans of nothingness wonders too rife to count
And runs us through and through with love’s unfailing Majesty

Praise God; let us full-awed bow down and lay before His throne
Off'rings of song and service to the One who grants His grace
And gave upon the cross His all, man’s sin-curse to atone
He saves us from a fall that would-should ban us from His face

Praise God; His rod, though it grieves us, He sends for our good
Pray we, with what He lends return a sacrifice of praise
His ways and thoughts, past finding out are oft misunderstood
Yet still He fills the seed that spills and overflows earth’s trays

Praise God; let everything with breath exalt His holy name
An orchestra of worship to his Lordship let us be
And magnify the One who loves and cares for you and me

Praise God; applaud the shepherd of the stars and mankind’s souls
He, like a Father pities us and provides ev’ry need
Each humble prayer he hears; His kindness through our blindness rolls
We, audience-recipients of goodness-mercy’s creed

Praise God; the air is like a thoroughfare hungry for song
Then, though cast down we can rise up, as on an eagle’s wing
Sufficient is the grace of He who makes the weakest strong
Then oh, forbid that we forget to sing and sing and sing

Praise God; the pod is full of fruit like faith's laud, full of joy
Then, though we see the outward and are often torn apart
We labor ‘neath Love’s watchfulness that nothing can destroy
And trust and fear the One who knows the fathoms of each heart

Praise God; for death has no awful dominion over us
Darkness and hate and greed cannot prevail, for He is Light
Thus evil cannot triumph over Living Hope; Jesus
Sing glory-hallelujah for the power of His might

Compassionate, He does not leave us comfortless in grief
A confidante to pour upon His list'ning ear, our pain
The solace of His sympathy anoints tears with relief
And helps us, in spite of our loss to love and laugh again

Praise He who tends the tree and bends the sea with the Unseen
He showers us with blessing; who the sum of them can tell?
His whisper calms fear's tempest, turns the barren backdrop green
From dark of night a spark expands and morning anthems swell

Praise God; where imminence of unknown rests in perfect peace
His promises steadfast, in Him believers bide, secure
No foe can overthrow the One whose favors never cease
Heavens and earth will pass away but His Word will endure
    
Praise God; for faithfulness and Love, for Truth and Righteousness
Praise Him for He is Holy, Healer, Hope, Redemption's Door
Praise Him; through His forgiveness man may live victorious
Let earth’s song be a prelude to Heaven's forevermore

© Janet Martin

Of Seasons Spent...



Yesterday we had a sister-gathering at our parents which of course brings lots of reliving 
(some with pleasure, others with remorse) scenes of seasons spent


Though we cannot unravel what life weaves with days and years
The high and low we travel in retrospect, reappears
…where loves we did not treasure in the keen, green blip of youth
Becomes a sacred measure unfolding wisdom and truth

And though we cannot undo with the new, seasons of old
With kinder, gentler gaze we view this Present that we hold
…where places that we were led us toward This Meeker Ken
Where chases of dust stirred makes us more thankful now than then

The birth and death of daily breadth, while earth its due reclaims
Charters while’s worth, as breath by breath the thread of Being wanes
And not until we bow to fill more mindful hearts with awe
Will Time a reverence instill for its unyielding law

Then we do not despise The Dance that tempers frantic feet
Or strews before our eyes lost lands of learning, bittersweet
For, though we cannot undo what life weaves with where we went
We show more gratitude for budding leaves of Seasons Spent


© Janet Martin