Epiphany...

Imagine when the applause and worship of nations is all that we will hear 

no longer marred by sorrow or fear...

In the movie White Christmas there is a scene at the end when the 151st Division honors their general and they line the hall applauding him as he passes through...

Imagine Heaven then...oh!!

When we, with eyes fixed on a face

No longer wonder at the why

But gaze on the Author of grace

As Hope and Faith forgotten lie

When we, once weak and weary-worn

Line streets of gold to hail the King

And touch the marks induced by thorn-

Pressed on his brow of suffering

When we, in speechless awe bow down

And kiss the feet still bearing scars

And touch the trailing of a gown

That fills a temple set on stars

When we at last will find a way

To thank Him for His love for us

And all that we can think to say

Is just one word, Jesus, Jesus

Then we, freed from Self’s rag of stain

Will join the gathered throngs to sing

Worthy, worthy, Lamb that was slain

When we see Jesus Christ the King

© Janet Martin

An 'It's Winter' Poem

Note: snow-shots are from a year ago when we enjoyed a much whiter early-mid December

Landscape is pummeled with white flannel scraps

Critters are snuggled for winter-long naps

Mom and Pop shiver and eager child claps

It’s winter

Cooks  switch up salad for savory stew

Good-bye iced tea, hello, cocoa debut

Make no excuse, dip a cookie or two

It’s winter

Rosy cheeked cherubs all bundled in wool

Like little Santas fill sleds and shout ‘pull’

Tree branch is barren but wood-box is full

It’s winter

No flip-flop slip-slap; snow-steps crunch and creak

Where Old Man Winter flirts, tweaking each cheek

Home-fires welcome guests wearing sock feet

It’s winter

Pause on this painting of slumbering ilk

Earth is a haven swathed in silver silk

Take a slow stroll, sip a mug of hot milk

It’s winter

Time is a snowman too long in the sun

Fret not, my love, for what can’t be undone

Gaze at earth's quilt star-and-miracle-spun

It’s winter

© Janet Martin

Of Something Underlying...

 Finally the weather has decided to give its forecasters some credibility;-) It snowed last night!

Spice of wood-smoke seasons dusk

Nip of autumn spent

Pervades breezes blue and brusque

Frost-husked filament

Flowers on a faded range

Stripped by hours bent on change

Tender is the wending way

Of Nature’s decline

White plush blankets somber gray

Cloaks stoop-shouldered vine

Tucks the ash of autumn’s flare

In a benediction prayer

Bracken bends beneath a kiss

Soft as thistledown

Swaddles springtime’s genesis

In diamond-starred gown

Crowns the crook of brook and limb

With a hallelujah hymn

Stirs a dirge in seasoned hearts

Feathers fond farewells

Though the letting go still smarts

Snow-frothed hills and dells

Work their magic in the mind

Leaving grief of leaf behind

© Janet Martin

 

Regarding Raising Cuties...

Oh, you make me go against my better judgment, I say as they woo me with 'Mother, may I' eyes...

...and it matters little if they are innocent

... or not 

...the heart gets caught betwixt 'ought' and 'oh well'

(all my year-long resolutions and warnings about 'not buying much this Christmas' 
are going down the annual drain;-) 

Matt laughed when I told him I'm getting much less for everyone this year.

He reminded me that I've said that every year for as long as he can remember:

A-a-a-rgh! It's true.) 
...but I justify it with getting things they need, not merely want.

You look at me and I lose sight of all my common senses

Something about your blue-eyed love undoes my best defenses

I say yes when I should say no

And I guess love will always be so

A heart-against-what head said, oh

In spite recompenses

I look at you and flippety, my heart is like a puddle

A skip-a-beat puppet, my sweet, a darling cuddle-muddle

And what I said I’d never do

I do without excuse for you

Know how to pull the wool, and woo

Well-laid will all a-fuddle

Oh, bless my soul and bless the whole wide world so full of beauty

I’m glad love makes us more than soldiers enlisted for Duty

Where pride will fall prey to its ways

And stride will fall prey to its gaze

In spite of what the hand-book says

Regarding raising cuties

© Janet Martin

'Not For You'

 I laughed out loud the other day when I found this tucked away in the back of the refrigerator.

(lest we mistakenly think it should be)

Why do we lust and forfeit trust

Straining for out-of-reach-ado

When it is very clear, my dear

That What we want is ‘not for you’

Why do we waste time’s touch and taste

Succumbing to the fruitless rue

Of pining for a soldered door

Signed in bold letters ‘not for you’

Why do we thirst, mad, hunger-cursed

For slice of sky-pie’s what-but-who

And sadly miss the tender kiss

That whispers this; ‘this is for you’

© Janet Martin