Want Is Like A Wagon...

Want is like a wagon that we heap with wish and whim

Hope is like a hunger that we know will lead to Him

Want is like a weight we carry without joy or peace

Hope is like the wings that bear us to where Want will cease

Want enslaves us with the cravings that chain us to loss

Hope makes servants of those willing to suffer love’s cross

Want rivals twixt need and greed, its pleading to fulfill

Hope is always humbly fixed and yielded to God’s will

© Janet Martin

1 Tim.6:3-10

NIV

These are the things you are to teach and insist on. If anyone teaches otherwise and does not agree to the sound instruction of our Lord Jesus Christ and to godly teaching, they are conceited and understand nothing. They have an unhealthy interest in controversies and quarrels about words that result in envy, strife, malicious talk, evil suspicions and constant friction between people of corrupt mind, who have been robbed of the truth and who think that godliness is a means to financial gain.

But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.

Almost Flowers...

Isn't it exciting?! Standing on the edge of a world of almost-flowers!

 Gardens of the mind begin to become more defined...

This post is a revival of bygone August blooms, partly to remind us of what waits

and partly to retaliate against nature's fresh white scarf 

draping the frozen countryside this morning😏

Facing places filled with traces of fond graces left behind

March is like a threshold leading to a world not of the mind

Hope shaped into almost-flowers flares on furrows, stark and brown

Save for sparkle where night’s artist scattered stars and feather-down

Leaning like a school-girl trying to see mirrors in a stream

March is like a door-half open, teasing us with more than Dream

Where the scenes that long we carried in a cherished world within

Start to break through nature’s barriers of mud and bud-clad skin

Grinning like a boy when summer frees him of work,booked and shoe-ed

March is like a mother teaching patience to Her restless brood

Where the bell that tolls from heavens torn between blue, gold and gray

Wakes within the heart a hunger for the fine feast of today

Teasing coppice with the sloppy kisses of sun, rain and snow

March is Mischief, vexing us with winter’s cold hold letting go

While Want presses Expectation to the windows of the world

Waiting for the salutation of that first flower unfurled

© Janet Martin

Hope's Bugle-call

Foolish me! Trying to delay the inevitable by hitting snooze
hoping nine more minutes of oblivion will somehow
make it easier to switch from the horizontal position to the vertical,
but never does!

Foolish, foolish everyone who tries to thwart The Inevitable by ignoring it!

 This morning the sun broke through stunning hues of blue like a brass-bugle call...

Pry thy Soul-ship from Thy berth

Creature-care awaits

Love in flawless forms of worth

Storms through eastern gates

Rise and shine and take thy place

In life’s line of thanks

God extends his divine grace

To earth’s chosen ranks

Left foot-right-foot-left-foot-right

Mercy’s sacred charge

Bids us onward as we fight

Enemies at large

Don the Armor God designed

Without it we fall

Keep thy Victory in mind

Heed Hope’s bugle call

Forbid we, with foolish heart

Satan’s darts ignore

Soon we will see, not in part

Who we’re fighting for

© Janet Martin

There's no doubt about it; we are in a fight of our lives!
Only the true believer survives!

 Eph.6:10-18

 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  

 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  

 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.  Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.  Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place,  

and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.  

 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, 

with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.  

Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. 

With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.

Love the words to this song to 'rally the troops' to persevere

 

The Art of Arranging Heart Pieces

The raw edge of a moment can slice through our thickest skin

Right to the core that cups the storehouse of love’s grit and grin

And it can scatter tatters like a swatch of phantom fray

That nothing holds together but the tether of today

Where, with the medium of verse the poet tries to snare

The colors of an afternoon soft-fading on thin air

Like ephemeral fabric of time’s cambric, silk and tulle

Shirred into words like stay-for-supper, yes, and wonderful

For nothing takes the place of faces sporting happiness

They fill up hollow spaces with invisible finesse

Yet, tug with tender beckoning for someone to arrange

These estranged bits and pieces into Art that will not change

And thus the poet tiptoes over Bygone’s hallowed seal

To try to fit together pieces that Time cannot steal

(…a dash of Sonny’s freckles and sash off Missy’s frock

A splash of Johnny’s innocence, a baby’s silken lock

A little shoe, a peek-a-boo, a can-I-use-the-car

The tendril of sleep-tight and twinkle, twinkle, little star

A bright mosaic made of scattered toys, a tear to kiss 

The endless to-do list on hold for joys too dear to miss

A book to read the umpteenth time, supper served in three shifts

And oh the beaming face behind a birthday cake and gifts

A line laden with living proof of busy family

Making a home from walls and roof, that else mere house would be

 And lest dear mother might forget the beauty midst the mess

As love and care add hints of wear to her once-raven tress

With slam of door and messy floor and smudge of window-art

A Poem finds a way to turn them into works of heart)

© Janet Martin

Life's Odyssey

I'm sorta having a life-is-but-a-dream moment picking the last gr.12 grad photos

Sorta like a dream sometimes, these moments turned to fact

Sorta like a clock that chimes Time’s disappearing act

Sorta like a love song strummed on strings of subtlety

Sorta like a mural hung where only thought can see

Sorta like a blur of summer-autumn-winter-spring

Sorta like an upward spark; this strange and one-time Thing

Sorta like a puppy learning lessons more than once

Sorta like a locket, dear, that smiles and tears ensconce

Sorta like a tug-of-war twixt hold and letting go

Sorta like a drink we pour; a mix of wonder-woe

Sorta like a poem pressed on pages of thin air

Sorta like a pilot’s first run, testing wings of prayer

Sorta like a journey on a gurney made of sod

Sorta like a leap of faith; life’s odyssey to God

© Janet Martin