Free Reign/Rein

 PAD Challenge day 17: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Free (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

When thought breaks bounds of order and is given full, free rein/reign

It finds our greatest weakness glaring like a crack of light

The lure of feeling’s fancy trolls a dark and dangerous vein

Craving's belly growls with an insatiable appetite

When want, the author of Excuse’s Fine Soliloquy

Stamps longing with approval, driving discernment amuck

The mastermind of mayhem, dressed in fool’s-gold finery

Seduces us with images of opulence and luck

When thought, ungoverned roams footloose and feckless as the dust

It leads us into places even angels fear to tread

The idle mind, a playground for the lawlessness of lust

The hunger in its hollow raving mad, though fed and fed

When thought, not taken captive wanders where it should not go

It falls prey to the enemy bent on ruin and loss

Where we all would be finished, but for He who loves us so

And guards thought through subjection to the power of the cross

© Janet Martin

 The weapons of our warfare are not the weapons of the world.

 Instead, they have divine power to demolish strongholds.

 We tear down arguments, and every presumption set up against the knowledge of God;

and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.

2 Cor.10:4-5

Free Fortune

 PAD Challenge day 17: For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Free (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.

A fissure in yon vault

Expands, ruby and gold

Like music, flows into a waltz

That heaven cannot hold

A whisper shatters deeps

Renewal gathers sway

And draws from dust and ashen heaps

Hope’s phoenix of new day

The friendships we released

As darkness set its seal

Arranges a fantastic feast 

Of mercies to reveal

© Janet Martin

Jeremiah's (and our) hope...

 Because of the LORD’s loving devotion we are not consumed, 

for His compassions never fail.

 They are new every morning; 

great is your faithfulness.

Lam.3:22-23

An Uncommon Sense...

 WE on the northeast-west side of the veil are 'enjoying' an early winter wonderland...

Time’s veil that hangs twixt God and man and keeps faith fraught with prayer

Keens an uncommon sense of more-than-duty to perform

How sacred are these steppingstone that hold our weight of care

Set with divine precision through hope’s battlefield and storm

Time’s veil, as sheer as air and yet no stare can penetrate

To see what lies beyond its wanting scope of sight and sound

Where what precedes the passing through exceeds this mortal crate

And puts us all together on need’s very common ground

Time's veil, so frail where blood-sweat-tears are shed repeatedly

Where centuries are laid to naught on this side of the grave

Yet all are but a dot compared to the eternity

That none can comprehend and all will be called on to brave

Time’s veil, lowered so we can only sense the face of God

So near, so very near, one mere half-breath will rend its string

Then face to face, immortal will replace this mortal clod

As sense becomes the substance of the faith to which we cling

© Janet Martin

 
Psalm 39:5
You, indeed, have made my days as handbreadths, 

and my lifetime as nothing before You. 

Truly each man at his best exists as but a breath. 

Selah

Sacred Gift

What was for Thursday-what's-for-supper?
Something I put in the crock-pot much earlier today because it was going to be a lively one!

 This stew is a meal on its own but bread and cheese is a nice side...

In the oven it's a four/five-hour stew but in the crock-pot it's an all-day stew.

Since the beef was pre-cooked I put it in the crock-pot at noon.

Also, because I have my own canned tomato juice
 I used it instead of the V-8 juice.(to be economical)

Not the same but still perfectly fine.
I also skipped the tapioca and sugar to keep it simple.

I love this yellow bean salad with all things beef!
This is how I preserve half of the yellow bean crop.

(I hope you can read it. I needed to retrace the faded ink of this recipe

 I brought from home 31 years ago)

Dressing for this bean salad;

A scoop of mayo

a squirt of Dijon mustard

1 tbsp. each of brown sugar and vinegar

2 tbsp light cream or milk

whisk dressing then pour over beans, chopped white or red onion and hard-boiled eggs...
(adjust amounts to bean ratio)

top with freshly ground pepper

it's such a friendly little word

a tender pick-me-upper

a warming, welcome-homeward tug

a hug. 

We call it supper

As we sit  'round to share a meal

Let's thank God for each other 

and never over look the gift

of gathering 

for supper 

Janet Martin

The Rural Truth

PAD Challenge 12: For today’s prompt, write a myth poem. 

Reinterpret a common myth, create a brand new myth, and/or mention a myth in passing.

Because there's so much to see and do in the country!

Some think that country-life offers endless monotonies

No malls, fine entertainers, restaurants, art galleries

Some wonder what we rural-bumkins find to do for fun

And while it may be true this life is not for everyone

I’d like to take a minute to debunk misconstrued myths

And perhaps change your mind about the way country-life is

The aisles/isles we walk are woodsy; skylines seem to have no end

Earth’s fashionistas grandly sport the latest, timeless trend

Where we become refreshed, not weary, on a spending spree

That needs no cash or credit; there is no admission fee

To the world’s greatest art gallery you will ever find

Wisp of wild grass etched on a canvas eth’real as the wind

And if we need to pause perhaps, to sit and rest a bit

We will be entertained by feathered choristers that flit

Among the dark and light of leaves where breeze-brushed sunbeams strum

The strings of willow cellos to the beat of shadow-drums

The food we serve is garden-fresh and at our fingertips

Bloom-bistros cater to the bumbling bee, tipsy with sips

The brook-beribboned vista, summer-steeped or autumn-drained

Or winter silver-white stirs sheer delight hard to explain

With never enough poetry or hours in a day

To spell all that there is to spell before it slips away

Where sweat and toil sweetens the spoil of hillside picnics, oh

And credits dot the big-screen sky after dusk’s colour-show

…and often we are dumbstruck by the grand simplicity

Such as the silhouette at sunset of a leafless tree

Or starry, starry nights where black and white the land, sleep-kissed

Is like a still-life painting set where time does not exist

But, just like anything, no matter where we choose to visit

We have to make the time to take it in
 or else we miss it

© Janet Martin

Collecting Echoes

This is the time of year when I start to concede that maybe 

I have too much junk many collections... 

My largest collections are

rolling pins ...

...enamel-ware

 and poetry books

...and oh, what pleasure they have added to the ordinary!

Collectors walk that fine line between pack-rat and passion😏

some day

when I die

they

will pile a wagon high

and people will come

and sort throught the conglom

-eration

of these pieces of 

love

...and the auctioneer will call

what am I bid

the pictures of

the living they did

  hidden from eyes 

as they surmise

the size of the lot

and contemplate the price

and someone says

maybe 'I could use that' 

and another replies, 

'yeah, this might be nice'

...for the hands have been stilled 

that once thrilled

with the warmth of honest toil

as they filled

dishes with dinner

(fresh-from-the-garden-spoil)

Folded forever,
the fingers 

that lingered

between pages

as they highlighted a line 

here and there

The lips have laughed 

and kissed the last

tears of tots
and teddy-bears

when the milk was spilled

...here is the apron,

oft flour-dusty

as pies were rolled and filled

Now the rolling pins are passed on

like wooden batons

to the next generation

for stories not yet told

'what am I bid'

cries the auctioneer

'going once

going twice

sold!'

("throw in an extra rolling-pin"

he tells the bid-spotter

"We've got a lot of them to get rid of

...and just for the sake of love

a poem book or two

The things people collect!"

he said)

...and if I could I'd say

'yes, it's true,

it's true

Soundless echoes of 

home-sweet-love

that once upon my

little life

I knew'

Janet Martin

..