Monday, February 5, 2018

The Page We Write Life's Poem On...






its parchment is like grass spread earthy-green with petal-fray
it catches fancy footwork where life and death intersect
and flowers before eyes in masterpieces of decay
for soon the hour spills its bloom to tombs hunger-bedecked

its scribble sheet of cold and heat and dirt in fingernails
hails blue sky tent pitched overhead like heaven’s giddy grin
where we lug have-and-hold sometimes like seed-potato pails
sometimes like gold pilfered to vaults cradled in carts of skin

its gifted ink of pastel pink on dusk’s pastoral leas
of winter-bronze on polished ponds as black heaven grows dim
of moody blue and ruby hues and saffron-tickled seas
is like four-season beauty of trees etched on twilight’s scrim

its vellum is a star-strewn middle night, an afternoon
of landscaped thoroughfares begging to feel the touch of feet
the page we write life’s poem on is like a slice of moon
enticing us to pen another verse of Bittersweet

© Janet Martin


Love's Paradox





Sometimes sadness overtakes us
Love makes mourners of us all
And its weight would surely break us
Without Love to catch our fall

Sometimes heartache overwhelms us
Wounded by love’s double edge
And its grief would surely kill us

© Janet Martin

To Bless and Keep



It is a prayer repeated daily
Because we so need it daily
...that God would bless and keep! 

  

This is one of those poems that can be read through as one poem 
or pick a verse 
for a quick rhyme-kick;-)

Before this day is swept away
Into the archives of the mind
Where echoes of its tendered love
Rise from ashes of daily grind
Before the doors on eastward shores
Swing wide then fade to midday blue
Above the noise that life employs
Of plans to make and work to do
Before we stare agape at air
That holds the lair where seasons sleep
Let’s bow beneath dawn’s baited breath
And implore God to bless and keep

This skin and bone that hours hone
With grin and groaning’s up and down
Soon learns the truth; suave, slick, fair youth
Falls prey to age’s hoary crown
…while we smiled, beguiled, like a child
By lollipops and laughing eyes
We licked Time's spoons and danced to tunes
That led too soon, to meek surprise
...no good, no good to mourn the ‘should-
Have, could-have, would-have’s trampled sweep
But with bowed head, to pray instead
For gracious God to bless and keep

Some days are rough, some slip silk-soft
Where pictures waft on Bygone’s breeze
How swift time’s gifted moments drift
From fingertips to memories
Dawn’s gold and gray that tips yon tray
Where come-what-may looms like thick fog
Is not some fluke kiss or rebuke
Tossed to us like bones to a dog
God grants His grace to human race
Where proud and meek till the same heap
And all may plea on humble knee
For His mercy to bless and keep

© Janet Martin


Saturday, February 3, 2018

Her Only Request...



Brantley (grandson) is a very social boy...
though he may give you a pretty serious look when he first meets you😐
This morning he was not interested in playing by himself
so while I did a little tidying he played with a new friend who did everything he did!

(oh, this reminds me; I think I have a mirror that needs polishing!)



Oh, what privileged place of esteem
Oh, what a beautiful war
Caught in the cross-fire twixt Duty and Dream
Learning to love more and more

This is the role of a mother and wife
Not much reward does she ask
But lingering moments to savor the life
With those at the heart of each task

© Janet Martin



Friday, February 2, 2018

Permanent-Ink Splash


Nothing gets your attention like, 'Mom, I wasn't going to tell you this because you have enough on your plate to worry about but...' thankfully in the ensuing momentary heart-stop we think the worst possible scenario and what follows is usually not as bad as first-panic pictured😌...
which thankfully, was the case)
We can choose to live in fear of the Impending Unknown 
or cling to that formless 'feather' of faith
 cupped in the most nail-scar-weathered, loving and gentle hands we can imagine!


The windows through which we view life’s four season circuit frames
Climaxes of both joy and strife no night-to-morning tames  
Where wake of give and take is more than a mere That or This
As jots and tittles score the face with farewell’s drawn-out kiss

Mankind, clock-locked with no way out save through the grave, must learn
To make the best with what one has on roads of no return
Because what is, is soon what was, what will be duly streams
Through flutes we lift to catch the glint of champagne-colored dreams

The aftermath that strews the path where little feet pursue
Renders sacred significance to common say-and-do
…for all that seems of little consequence scatters Somewhere
And who knows when 'what' sprouts will set a foothold or a snare

Our window to the world expands as sands of season haste
First through the flue of Higher Hands then to man’s touch and taste
Where wake of gray and gold holds so much more than we may think
As jot and tittle falls in hallmarks of permanent ink  

© Janet Martin

 Do not be deceived:
 God cannot be mocked. 
A man reaps what he sows.



Thursday, February 1, 2018

Who Are 'The Blessed'? Just in case we need a reminder

Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. 
His disciples came to Him, and He began to teach them, saying:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you 
and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 
Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, 
for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Matt. 5:1-12





The way we look at life is oft distorted; mortal sight
Distracts us from the fundament of mercy’s guiding Light
The answers we desire He has promised in wise ways
Beyond temp’ral assurances that satisfy our gaze

The footwork of an hour forges ways before untrod
But each path merges in the end where it began, with God
And what unravels day to day, where tears and laughter flow
Is never far away from the kind grace whereby we go

Not up to us to understand, but simply this, to trust
God cups in caring, nail-scarred hands this transitory dust
His perfect will is faithful still, when hope and help seems dim
His Ultimate desire that we learn to lean on Him

He knows this blip of fellowship with living's highs and lows 
Will soon sweep these bone cages into death's ageless repose
Thus, He so loved us that He gave His Son, the settlement
To save us from the wrath to come when this earth-sum is spent

The One who wept great drops of blood is not here to pour tea
The heart of His Compassion rests beneath the skin we see
For as He breathed upon the dust Man Became Living Soul
And it is His will that not one should perish in Sheol

For oh, He is the Potter, we like clay upon the wheel
Redemption’s Living Water softens hearts as hard as steel
There is no best or worst of us; God loves us all the same
And leads us through the places that teach us to trust His Name

© Janet Martin

 Yet you, Lord, are our Father.
    We are the clay, you are the potter;
    we are all the work of your hand.
Isa.64:8

Has not my hand made all these things,
    and so they came into being?”
declares the Lord.
“These are the ones I look on with favor:
    those who are humble and contrite in spirit,
    and who tremble at my word.
Isa.66:2