Thursday, June 17, 2021

Aha, Aha, There Still Is Nothing New (Under the Sun)


Eccles.1:9
What has been will be again,
    what has been done will be done again;
    there is nothing new under the sun.


Where flowers, I think still must be the love language of God...




The wonder in the flaring of first light ere dusk enchants...



It’s nothing new, the scolding of a puppy, garden-wild...


The nurturing and shaping of the green vine of a child...




(So much to be thankful for/aka life, turned this poem into a two day 'adventure')

It’s nothing new, the scolding of a puppy, garden-wild
The nurturing and shaping of the green vine of a child
Still no amount of wishing can undo what has been done
Aha, aha, no, there is nothing new under the sun

Where faithful moms and dads are heroes seldom hailed or cheered
Where love’s lifetime commitment is oft not glory-veneered
Where patience is a virtue tested and retested, hon
Aha, aha, no there is nothing new under the sun

Deception’s fraud still masquerades as fruit to make us wise
God is not mocked; He keeps his promises, in spite of lies
We grow to be astonished at how swift time’s seasons run
Aha, aha, there is still nothing new under the sun

The words a poet snares to shape into new twists of rhyme
Are wheedled from the fathoms of a fount as old as time
As we seek to bring honour to Author of sky-sea-sod
Where flowers, I think still must be the love language of God

The noise and joys of little boys and girls chock-full of vim
Like June before the countenance of summer starts to dim
The way a day can fade before it has barely begun
Aha, aha, no, there is nothing new under the sun

The hunger in our bearing for something Time never grants
The wonder in the flaring of first light ere dusk enchants
The awe as nature's shuttle whirs and Beauty's best is spun 
Aha, aha, there is still nothing new under the sun

A time to plant, a time to reap, a time to live and die
A time to laugh, a time to weep as the Soul learns to fly
*Where time still crawls while watching clocks and waiting for someone
Aha, aha, no there is nothing new under the sun

The conclusion of life’s matter has not altered its plan
‘Fear God and keep His commandments, the whole duty of man’
For God will judge good deeds and bad of each and everyone
Aha, aha, there still is nothing new under the sun

© Janet Martin


Eccles.12:13-14
Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: 
Fear God, and keep his commandments: 
for this is the whole duty of man.
 For God shall bring every work into judgment, 
with every secret thing, 
whether it be good, 
or whether it be evil.

*This poem was inspired by the second last line in the second last verse...
(don't ask me why the line landed there.
Sometimes poems have a mind of their own)

It started yesterday morning when Little Girl
who arrived at 6:15 was excited for it to be 9:45 
because she was going to swimming lessons with her cousin.
So, for the next 3.5 hrs. approximately every 5-10 minutes
she would ask 'is my best friend Ellie going to be here soon?'
So cute๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’—
(I didn't always answer)๐Ÿ˜‚

"Is my best friend Ellie going to be here soon?"
I'm thinking Gymnastics after swimming lessons???



  

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

Keeper of the Bloom


Morning ignites the deep
With fringes of sheer gold


Where, like a bud, still half-asleep...


The day starts to unfold


God’s Hand of mercy holds
Time’s invisible stem


As petal by petal unmolds
Dawn’s hidden diadem


Where, come whatever may
As buds blossom and fall


The kind Keeper of time’s bouquet
Is faithful through it all



Morning ignites the deep
With fringes of sheer gold
Where, like a bud, still half-asleep
The day starts to unfold

God’s Hand of mercy holds
Time’s invisible stem
As petal by petal unmolds
Dawn’s hidden diadem

Where, come whatever may
As buds blossom and fall
The kind Keeper of time’s bouquet
Is faithful through it all

© Janet Martin

Your faithfulness endures to all generations;
You established the earth, and it abides.
Psalm 119:90 NKJV

Monday, June 14, 2021

I Was Glad When They Said Unto Me...



I was glad when they said unto me, 
Let us go into the house of the Lord.
Psalm 122:1




I was glad when they said unto me
Let us go to the house of the Lord
 Let us worship He who has set sinners free
 With humble devotion outpoured

I was glad when they said unto me
Lockdown restrictions have eased
Fifteen percent of capacity
Will keep the health-board kindly pleased

I was glad when they said unto me
You may go now and sit in the pews
Six feet apart (but with God's family)
Cherishing Mercy's Good News  

I was glad when they said unto me
Assemble together once more
Come, kneel at the cross of Calvary
Think of the anguish He bore

Honour the Maker of heaven and earth
Precious Savior of the soul
Fellowship sweetly, rejoice in the worth
 Of faith that makes believers whole

Ponder, with wonder His love, full and free
Delight at the sound of His Word
Sing, 'I was glad when they said unto me
Let us go to the house of the Lord'

To lift up glad voices in hymns dear and true
To lift the roof with worship's chord
I was so glad, oh weren't you too?
To go to the house of the Lord

(I wish this last verse was true...maybe next week?)

I was glad to see parking lots packed
Standing room only outside
As people gathered, starved for what they lacked
Worshipping Christ crucified
Worshipping Christ, unified


© Janet Martin





Life's Little Ways...

Yesterday our pastor asked me if I have any poems in the works 
and I am always caught completely off-guard when someone refers to that topic 
and I think I stuttered something about
 'usually I have something in the works because its just the way I 'tick' or process life',.
(I wish I was witty and could have thought of something to say like,
 'do you have any sermons in the works?',
 but on second thought, that might come off as a bit smart-alecky...sigh. here I go,
 second-guessing and over-thinking. Two of my main weaknesses) 
I then added, referring to his message that I just got a lot more to process
.(I didn't add, 'hopefully into poetry', but it's what I partly hoped God would allow. 
Poems turn lessons I might otherwise forget into keepsakes.
One of his points in yesterday's message was
 'whose agenda are we/am I focused on, mine or God's?' 
 It ties in well with a book I just started reading by Andrew Peterson entitled, 
Adorning the Dark...
The writer challenges us to 'seek first the kingdom of God' not
only in everyday life but also especially when it comes 
to the creative part of our being such as writing.



Life lends us lots of little ways to prove who we love most
The Giver of our numbered days tests desire and boast
Where godliness/holiness and gratitude/attitude must war against the flesh
Lest passions, sly and unsubdued inveigle and enmesh

How wily is the voice of Want; it beckons and beguiles
How subtle the silver-tongued taunt that first thrills, then defiles
How careful, prayerful we should weigh ambition’s catalyst
The tempter sweetly stalks his prey with poison, sugar-kissed

Life lends us lots of little ways to learn what it would teach
Mercy heaps morning’s gleaming trays, no one beyond His reach
He is a gracious God of love to we, accountable
For all the little ways we prove who we love most of all

© Janet Martin

Seek ye first
the kingdom of God
and His righteousness
and all these things
shall be added
unto you.
Matt.6:33

Every day God shows us in so many little ways 
how much he loves us
Oh, may the same be true about us, for Him!


Sunday, June 13, 2021

Balancing Hurry and Peony...oops I mean Poetry...


To peer into a peony
Grants us a glimpse of God...

Social media is full of pictures of peony delight these days
and with good reason, because peony-season is stunning and brief
and its precious joy too pretty not to share!


Hurry-hurry, and poetry do not go hand in hand
Time flies; while I must learn to slow my pace and feel the sand
That slips through fingertips, then seasons, like a starry sea
Where echo-petals fall to halls of haste’s necessity

Hurry-hurry and poetry are hard to mediate
While one hand wants to loiter the other scolds ‘don’t be late’
The gate to dreamy meadowlands oft blocked by Duty’s bars
While all the while life’s silver sands run rife with Beauty’s stars

Hurry-hurry and poetry ignite a tug of war
One winks with possibility, one wields work’s common chore
One feeds the soul, one feeds the mouth, both play a vital part
In maintaining a healthy balance of body and heart

Hurry-hurry and poetry must learn to coexist
Ecclesiastic vanity unfurls its painted mist
Where Sacred Immortality is near, as near can be
Thus, life too short to waste in haste and miss its poetry

© Janet Martin

May your day of rest be blessed with a break from 'hurry'
and whether the poetry you delight in is found on a page or in a peony,
enjoy and give God thanks!

So, so thankful for a day of Sabbath-rest!
Thank-you God, for your perfect order.
(so thankful to be able to worship
with fellow-believers in person today, 
after long lock-down restrictions
have been lifted to allow fifteen percent)

Ex.20:8-11
Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.
 Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work:
 But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: 
in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, 
thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle,
 nor thy stranger that is within thy gates:
For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is,
 and rested the seventh day: 
wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.




Saturday, June 12, 2021

Poem-Thunder


On a picture-perfect June Saturday with lots to do
poetry thunders!
๐Ÿ’—

A poem, is like a bouquet
Of peonies, soft pink...



Like bud that pulses, pops and spills
In green leaf canopy...



A poem is more than mere verse
More than meter and rhyme
It wrangles feelings into words
Melds common with sublime

It gathers moments that would fade
Without a second thought
Snared from seasons as they parade
Through graces, soon forgot

A poem takes us by the hand,
Nay, tugs at inner strings
Its truth, beauty and love withstands
The ever-change time brings

It courses through the utmost part
Of hearts; steeds, hunger-shod
Always showcasing, with word-art
The majesty of God

It preaches, teaches, reaches where
No naked eye can see
To storm Soul’s sacred thoroughfare
Hinged to eternity

A poem, from life’s ugliness
Of thorns that pierce and prick
Points out the blood-red loveliness
Of Hope’s rose-kindled wick

A poem thunders without sound
Through wonder's speechless gaze
Where wonder is the holy ground
Of worship's flawless praise

A poem, is like a bouquet
Of peonies, soft pink
It cheers a dark and dreary day
With petals made of ink

A poem celebrates the thrills
That fill the earth with glee
Like bud that pulses, pops and spills
In green leaf canopy

Like innocence of little child
Pirates of stolen breath
Where joy and sorrow drive us wild
With birth’s promise of death

Where insecurity and fear
Could smother happiness
Where we are altogether here
By the Creator’s ‘yes

Where, now and then, lest we turn blind
To Hands, (not without scar)
A poem can gently remind
Us how precious we are

© Janet Martin


Because your steadfast love
is better than life,
my lips will praise you!

A few more June joy-praises...




Friday, June 11, 2021

When Time No More Will Be

 



Due to a disappointing 'drop' I am back to using the phone camera for now...


Another day of grace
Rolls from dawn’s eastward shore
To each and every one of us
Till time will be no more

Till time will be no more
Not one of us can tell
When we will pass through Death’s dark door
Into Heaven or hell

Into Heaven or hell
There is no in between
Therefore, we ought to ponder well
What none on earth have seen

What none on earth have seen
Will fill eternity
How sacred is time’s go-between
God and humanity

God and humanity
Are never far apart
He grants each day of grace to we,
The darlings of his heart

The darlings of His heart
When Time No More will be
Will witness He who hangs His art
Where everyone can see

Where everyone can see
His sky-wide evidence
That the heaven's declare, so we
Cannot plead ignorance

© Janet Martin

After writing this I read this
Stunning.

Though you have not seen him, you love him; 
and even though you do not see him now, 
you believe in him.

1 Peter 1:3-9
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! 
In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope
 through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 
 and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. 
This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, 
who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation
 that is ready to be revealed in the last time. 
 In all this you greatly rejoice, 
though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 
 These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—
of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—
may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. 
 Though you have not seen him, you love him; 
and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him 
and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, 
 for you are receiving the end result of your faith, 
the salvation of your souls.

Thursday, June 10, 2021

Everlasting Masterpiece


My, how earth is filled with wonder
My, how birth delights our gaze...


Who waters the world with showers...


My, how You get our attention
Where the skies Your works proclaim...


June/the Creator of June throbs in hearts and earth 
with wealth of beauty and wonder!

June's jubilance always fades far too fast
but its Creator and His love are everlasting!
Isn't that our greatest joy of all?!

My, how You get our attention
Where the skies Your works proclaim
Where Beauty is the reflection
Of the love from whence we came

My, how earth is filled with wonder
My, how birth delights our gaze
Where burgeoning bud-vaults thunder
With an outpouring of praise

My, how often we forget You
While, though hemmed in by Your Hand
We begin to fret, and doubt You
For ways we can’t understand

Who can thread the loom of flowers?
Who instills the sower’s seed?
Who waters the world with showers?
Who, the morning has decreed?

Who can boast, but what is given?
Who can save man’s soul from hell?
Who of us can ascribe heaven?
Who the thoughts of You can tell?

You, the author of creation
And salvation's precious gift
You, faith's rock-solid Foundation
Who will not falter or shift 
  
My, how Your mercies surround us
Fount beneath and vault above
Hope within where you confound us
With an everlasting love

© Janet Martin

Jer.31:3

The LORD has appeared of old to me, saying: 
“Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love; 
Therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you.

Psalm 139:5

You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.