August-Anthem

 This morning's sunrise parted night's skies in a blaze of glory!

'Dawn is a tango of coral and mango'...

The first line of this poem was snared on Saturday as I returned from errands

but didn't have the freedom to see where it's lure would lead...

this stunner of a day break broke the song wide-open!

Beauty bewitches where flower-wild ditches

Brim with glad hymns rousing heart’s pure delight

Time sings in petals hoisting summer’s medals

In celebration of bloom’s fleeting flight

Joy thrills with pleasure as gardens spill treasure

Backyard vacations are second to none

Rippling vibratos of cricket-concertos

Leaf marquees lure us from sizzle of sun

Harvest increases worship’s masterpieces

Countryside canvases spark reverence

Gratitude thunders where seed’s timeless wonders

Fill fallow frames with God’s benevolence

Dawn is a tango of coral and mango

Waking a dazzling world, dew-diamond starred

August entices with scents; pickling spices

Heady aromas, baked, barbecued, jarred

Nature’s enchanter tips heaven’s decanter

Sunshine and rain compose prize-poetry

Earth is a palace, each bloom like a chalice

Sparkling with sup for butterfly and bee

Breeze-musky minstrels strum corn tassel-tinsel

Labor is sweet as we glean fruit of toil

August is always a room full of hallways

Leading us through summer’s milestones of spoil

August composes with stubble and roses

Ballads that tremble on tender heart-strings

Stirring our senses with stayed recompenses

Borne on the mercy of morn’s welkin wings

Keeping us grateful for summer’s still-plate-full

Of flowered hours not yet bent and spent

Of sun-steeped laughter that lingers long after

August has folded its gold and blue tent

© Janet Martin

Keeping us grateful for summer’s still-plate-full

Of flowered hours not yet bent and spent

Of sun-steeped laughter that lingers long after

August has folded its gold and blue tent...

Backyard vacations are second to none...

below...looking for the stick that got lobbed awry!

Eccles.3:1-2

To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

 A time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

God Himself...

How easy it would be to become disillusioned by what we see

if not rooted in what we know, because God said so.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, 

and a light unto my path.

Psalm 119:105

John 16:33

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.

 In this world you will have trouble. 

But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

When tried by disappointment’s test and vexed by plans upset

When waves of want for what seems best roll through prayers still unmet

When second chance and circumstance grant opportunity

To seize anew the Hope God grants to cheer adversity

Then pray we hold more near and dear the Lantern of his Word

To light faith’s path lest footsteps veer because vision is blurred

To light faith’s path lest footsteps veer because vision is blurred

Requires more than the veneer of valor undeterred

Without God’s Word life’s storms are ruthless, tossing to and fro

The soul not rooted in His Truth that none can overthrow

Then pray, we repent and believe so that we may endure

With more to cling to than the sheave that death cannot secure

With more to cling to than the sheave that death cannot secure

Though disappointment’s test may grieve and morrows are unsure

We have hope’s confidence that nothing in this world can shake

While we long for deliverance from anguish and heartbreak

His Word is a lamp to our feet, a Light unto our path

And God Himself until we meet in Time’s Grand Aftermath

…and God Himself until we meet in Time’s Grand Aftermath

Where nothing remains to compete with love’s mercy or wrath

Then, lest disenchantment and doubt should cause our foot to slip

Do not begin today without God’s Word to full-equip

Then, come what may the dark cannot triumph the Light of All

As we press on toward the mark for the prize of God’s call

© Janet Martin

Moment-ous Measure, (Time's Good Treasure)

This poem, Like Sparkles on a Surging Swell, came up on my blog-dashboard

 this morning because someone clicked on it,

amplifying my annual August lament...

as summer's fading fringes become more apparent

Then my sister sent me this photo of a long-ago vacation.

 It fell out from behind a drawer as she cleaned out the cupboards to prepare for a kitchen-reno

(all these kids now dealing with the season of young adulthood with all its challenges and joys )

Emotion-ocean 

begged 

to be poured into 

poem

Moments murmur, full of summer flowing out of reach and sight

Sometimes seems like dreams-come-true slip through our bearing overnight

Laughter ripples, echoes stipple streams once rushing raw and rife

Where an ocean of emotion rolls across shorelines of life

Moment-measure spills in treasure that soon other moments steal

Such a touch-and-taste-good-pleasure, sparkling like a rhinestone-reel

Carousels of fare-thee-well twirl where hello’s fond friendships meld

With time’s tinctures painting pictures of seasons so briefly held

Momentum of here-they-come and there-they-go, oh, me-oh-my

Sparks a hunger for the younger afternoons of mid-July

Yet, soft-kindles, with what dwindles in the middle of lament

Awed awareness of the rareness of today’s precious present

Moments meter bitter, sweeter, who knows what they hold in store

Makes us cherish what will perish on dusk’s silhouette-scaped shore

While the Giver of this river full of Time’s momentous tow

Brightens duty with the beauty of what new moments bestow

Moments marble gold and purple with more muted shades of gray

Bygone's coffers brim with offers on breath-banners of new day

Longing wrangles with what tangles heart-strings into Wonder's Birth

Teaching us to treasure the good measure of a moment's worth

© Janet Martin

Bygone's coffers brim with offers on breath-banners of new day...

Forever-Gratefulness (for sisters)

This poem was inspired by the past week or two

by my sisters (and sister-in-laws that feel like sisters💗)

The main difference with sister-in-laws is that they had to learn to

tolerate if not appreciate Martin-girl quirks😉

*cucumbers from Lucy

Last year for Carolyn's 50th we enjoyed a day out together ( a rare occasion/delight)

We share garden-fare overflow

Cucumbers, beans and flower-slips

The brunt of high-five and low blow

Recipes, cleaning-canning-tips

We share our cares and prayer requests

Milestones, updates and poetry

And lend a hand when life upsets

Love’s heart-cart full of family

Laughter and tears are understood

As the firm hand of time’s finesse

Strengthens the bond of sisterhood

With fond, forever-gratefulness

We share the love of mom and dad

And years where childhood echoes drift

We share the joy of Humbly Glad

And thank God for each sister-gift

© Janet Martin

Each sister fills a special place.

As I reflected over just the past couple weeks

I realized how easily I could take for granted this

huge blessing as we exchanged recipes

such as how to get creative with zucchini etc.

One evening when I returned home from getting groceries Victoria said,

"Cheryl called. She said she will call back.

something about sharing something she read 

that she thought you would enjoy!

(and she did call back and I did enjoy it)

*Right now I am canning

 over-flow-from-her-garden cucumbers from Lucy. 

Our family is enjoying wedding leftovers Carolyn dropped off.

Marlene took some beans off my hands the other day,

not afraid to ask 'do you have any to spare for our supper?'

If We Have Ears To Hear...

A glimpse of today's melody-notes falling and fading!

It's a breath-taking medley of clash-and-meld,

Can you hear it too?

I hope so💗

(so don't just see these pictures, hear them!😊)

'It lilts in lyrics, swing-song sweet... 

(every time Mrs. Swing-pusher takes the teeniest pause

Miss Swing-rider whips her head around to see what's up. lol!!!)

And sparkles in splash aftermath'

...keeping up with these colorful feet is a fulltime percussion piece😄

(doesn't seeing her footwear choice just make your day?!)

If we have ears to hear, my dear,

The melody of land and sea

That sweeps through trees, against the pier

And cheeps in cricket tiralee

That plops from raindrop-wells, aloft

In apples, decking orchard floors

That purrs in fur-balls, kitten-soft

Or in the jungle-kingdom, roars

That giggles from a little girl

And ripples in the silver heath

That tumbles from rock-heights to swirl

And thunder in chasms beneath

That clinks from spoons in mugs or cups

As we stir coffee, fresh-steeped chai

And chat about life’s downs and ups

…hushed in dusk’s deep blue lullaby

That sighs in anthems overhead

As leaf-song crescendos and wanes

Until all that we hear instead

Is pelting sleet on windowpanes

…that buzzes in the bumbling bee

And steals our breath with call of loon 

And drones in August's drowsy tree

As cicadas hail hot high noon

That lilts in lyrics, swing-song sweet

And sparkles in splash aftermath

That thrums in banter of bare feet

That dash down childhood's garden path

That spills in trills from feathered throats

That rolls in deeps across the sand

That broods in misty music-notes

That fold away the day in hand

That rustles in the turn of page

That bustles in work-a-day dash

As tick by tock we earn the wage

That soon settles in dust and ash

If we are given ears to hear

Melodies that make us rejoice 

How terrible, t’would be, my dear

To miss The Author's still small voice

...and never, with devoted tears

Thank Him for living's symphony

So we may taste, if but with ears 

Faint fringes of His majesty 

© Janet Martin

And one little music-splash from yesterday...

2 Kings 19:11-13 BSB

The LORD Speaks to Elijah at Horeb
…11Then the LORD said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD. Behold, the LORD is about to pass by.” And a great and mighty wind tore into the mountains and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 12After the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a still, small voice. 13When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. 

Suddenly a voice came to him and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”…

These Stairs We Climb (that look like Time)

This blur we call summer trembles with cricket-song

reminding us of words like 'was' and 'so-long'...

Now that's a 'hill of beans'  said Victoria

when she saw today's task on the table this morning😊

We are abundantly blessed with garden-treasure once again!

Thank-you, Lord

Life is offering almost more task than time these days!

By the grace of God and for His glory, 

off we go on another work-a-day adventure!

This thoroughfare of morrows where time’s seasons strew behind

Like harvest dust, rouses in us loss and gain intertwined

The give and take of dusk and daybreak’s easy ebb and flow

Falls through a fleet of hands and feet like little stars of snow

…where we are always learning, yearning, turning older, oh

Where wonder thunders in our veins as nature steals the show

Where we begin to feel the closing in of shadow-sighs

Yet feel like kings where simple things are life’s most treasured prize

The quiet grace of garden spaces soothes the wounds within

The rush of leaves before the sheaves are gleaned and gathered in

The cooing of the mourning dove, the cricket’s cheep-cheep-cheep

Like minstrels in a symphony that lulls the land to sleep

The tender tug as kiss and hug wears holes right through our hearts

Where planting and the granting of its fruit fills more than carts

Where holy is the toll that rolls from east to west until

The hours cease that lend the lease that numbered days fulfill

This more-than-meets-the-eye, hello, good-bye, this touch and taste

Runs through our forms in sparkle-storms of subtle season-haste

Where we will find sweet peace of mind through thick and thin of days

As we commit the whole of it to God in hymns of praise

As we delight in what is right and leave the rest to He

Who sees beyond the flower-frond of our mortality

Where hope and trust are more than dust that settles in the grave

Where stairs we climb that look like Time lead back to He who gave

© Janet Martin

  “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, 

or whatsoever ye do, 

do all to the glory of God.” 

1 Corinthians 10:31.

Remember when time seemed to crawl?

Little Girl is eagerly counting the days till she can be a school-girl!

Me? I want to cry 'slow down'

Let me linger over dinners and dreams!

The Poet's Plight-Fight-Fright-Rite/Write

I cringe beneath the critic's eye

Yet crave honest un-flattery

Lest I should run ink-rivers dry

With shadows of half-poetry

I blush to feel them crush the page

Splattered with pieces of my heart

While learning to embrace the wage

As rejection finetunes the art

I laugh and weep, am lost, then found

Drawn from despair's unholy brink

Toward the Holy Parchment Ground

Of a blank page begging for ink

Janet Martin

For Fishermen of Line and Pen

Then He said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

Matt.4:19

The lake we were at a few weeks ago

was dotted with fishing-boats for hours at a time

from first light till dark...

As they trolled for fish I watched from the dock with pen in hand 

and it dawned on me that writing and fishing have a lot in common; 

both require learning patience as we troll the deeps...

This sea gull had a better luck than a few of the fishermen I chatted with...

Time is a little like a pond teeming with want and wish

We, perched on banks of Great Beyond are learning how to fish

The hooks we bait then cast into the deep end of today

Require learning how to wait while we work, watch and pray

Sometimes we get impatient and we start to fret and fuss

Forgetting He who made us often has to wait for us

While we waste ‘bait’ He granted and intended for our good

Because we didn’t have the faith to trust Him like we should

The fish of conquered fears can be as slippery as an eel

And often disappears into a fog of faded zeal

As we dream of The Big One and bait and rebait the hook

Fixated on a vision of just how this fish will look

Lord, make us patient as we troll but never feel a pull

A fisherman tuned to the goal in spite of dreary lull

To bide the placid guise, not disillusioned by desires

But, recognize The Prize is worth the wait ‘fishing’ requires

…until you draw to shore the barge that sailed the seas of Time

Help us be faithful to the charge of hook and bit ‘o line/rhyme

And as you help us from the dinghy, pray you grant this wish

An offering fit for a King; a little string of fish

© Janet Martin

a few more early morning 'passengers'

Mink, I think...

Canada Geese

Dragon Fly