Love's Roar...

 Here's to a world full of wonder...

Life’s landscape like a picture book unveils frame after frame

Of wonder to brighten time’s boulevard of morn to night

Where touch and taste of moments is a buffet none can tame

Until the Giver snuffs the wick that lends its faithful light

As care in sundry shape and size can strip us of wild cheer

And we would lose the will to laugh without love’s eyes to see

Glimpses of He who knows the very essence of our tear/fear

And flings across our gain and loss, proof of His majesty

To stir within us hunger for the One who loves us so

And does not leave us long in fights of wrong-right-greed-and-need

Where struggle to survive-succeed-surrender, tests us, oh,

And draws us to our knees with pleas for Him to intercede

Where what is seen who hopes for; what is evident, who trusts?

And what we hold we soon forget to fully thank Him for

While life is like a landscape filled with elemental Musts

And wonder in the One who stills fear's whispers with Love’s roar

© Janet Martin

 
Romans 8:15
For you did not receive a spirit of slavery that returns you to fear, 

but you received the Spirit of sonship, by whom we cry, "Abba! Father!"

2 Timothy 1:7
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; 

but of power, 

and of love, 

and of a sound mind.

1 John 4:18

 There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. 

For fear has to do with punishment, 

and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.

and a reminder to Heidi that is good for us all!
(I'm reading the book Heidi because its been years since I read that never-gets-old story)

Because Not Everything Is As It Seems...

Longing that seems to amplify love’s happiness we lack

May shape the very things we miss some day when looking back

For then, when the big picture has filled in what seems amiss

We won’t remember what it was because of what then is

And all the tender pieces that seem marred at present, then

Might be the very days and years that we would live again

So it behooves us not to look too long behind or hence

But cherish what we hold before it turns to recompense

Darling, love’s pangs that vex woman and man I think must be

A bit of star-dust lodged betwixt hope and reality

© Janet Martin

Befitted for Love

 Love trades duty for honor

Love remembers to ask

Love's kind and gracious Author

To fit us for its task

Two little girls, the same size with the same names
are 'enjoying' same nap-times😀
...well, one is. the other one is making way too much noise to qualify as napping:)
(who knew love could be SO exhausting)
on their part and mine!
They are both kept quite busy 'borrowing' toys from each other
 and I am kept busy trying to sort what is who's!
But two not-even-two-yet girlies are pretty easy to convince
with another  'toy-bribe'
Time for a quick poem-coffee-break before #3 arrives.
#3 is all of two and boasts the title Grandson so
the dynamics change a bit just because when
you're all of 2 years + a month toy-bribes don't work as well anymore;
esp. at Grandma's house where he is the super-star!😊
Ah life! love!

One of the toy-bribes...inspired by Aiken Drum !

The quiet eye of heart and soul

With wily want and will to weigh

Rivals with noise of common toll

Where fact and fancy war and play

To teach thought’s vision to behold

*‘Midst gales of gray, hope’s glints of gold

Tell me, is ever time enough

To learn all that we ought to know

It seems to me life’s fist-a-cuff

Is always poised to wield a blow

Whilst we, with black eye, bloody lip

Brace for love’s next face-plant or trip

The mind is more than it may seem

Thought’s powerhouse produces touch

It harbours with its darling dream

The slyer skill of schemes and such

Where no one is immune to fear

Or the tempter’s impulsive leer

This dust we stir is soon subdued

A blur entombed in history

Where not one footstep can intrude

To rearrange time’s estranged spree

While love alone makes worth the leap

Twixt birth and death’s eternal sleep

The quiet eye of heart and soul

The mighty powerhouse of mind

Would be a futile rigmarole

With only havoc left behind

But for the humble servant’s prayer

To befit us for love’s warfare

© Janet Martin

*right now we are having gales of gray with no glints of gold!

Sometimes by Friday, life's noise sounds louder 

and good intention's poise is wobbly at best.

Thank-you God for your wise order 

of 'six days work' 

then a day of rest!

Today's wind has me humming this tune😁

 

There is a Love Waiting...

Part of my start to the day includes 'waiting'
and keeping an eye on the window for headlights
to signal the arrival of youngsters...
I suddenly visualized Jesus waiting,
 peering through the windows of our hearts
wondering how long it will take before we notice Him!

There is a Presence waiting

Man’s hunger to fulfill

There is a power waiting

Man’s weakness to instill

There is a purpose waiting

To fill with Worth, man’s days

There is a passion waiting

To turn man’s want to praise

There is a pilot waiting

To bid fear’s storm to cease

There is a Jesus waiting

To fill the heart with peace

© Janet Martin

There Will Be Buttercups (a February Fantasyland)

For your February dreaming pleasure!

There will be buttercups

Brimming with draughts of dew

There will be wild grass sighing

Where the dying day runs through

The silky, milky scarves of mist

Will drape dawn’s countryside

Where white daisy medallions strew

Green meadows far and wide

Silver highlights will brush the lush

Thigh-high cornfields with sun

And hills will tug at hearts to rest

And restless feet to run

The garden, fast asleep for now

Will waken wanderlust

To sting the dreamer’s eyes and brow

With tears of sweat and dust

Where fellowship with flowers is

Fine payoff for the pain

Of hours in the blazing heat

To beat weeds at their game

Zephyr-vespers will waft aloft

Soft on the eventide

The afternoon will offer seats

Of grass and moss, creek-side

There will be cricket-song

And Queen Ann's Lace-fringed lanes

And buttercups that brim, my dear

With warm, dust-fragrant rains

A hundred shades of green

Will break upon the earth

Where soon winter will melt into

Spring’s fountain of rebirth

© Janet Martin