September Skin...

Happy September Saturday!

SO much is happening to remind us

of the preciousness of Time...

Let's cherish moments with our loved ones because

we never know what a day holds!

Each morning is set free from a fresh flask of moment-dust

Then seize its opportunity and raise thy glass to Trust

The colours of the countryside have lost their lustrous sheen

The timbre of time’s telling tide shucks cornfields of lush green

Deception’s furtive favours, for a small while may appease

The heart with summer-flavours steeped in ling’ring fantasies

But cannot keep at bay for long the truth that will be told

Where September tolls welkin gong and turns the pear tree gold

…and tips yon cruet, spilling bluest awning overhead

Where sweet time as we knew it runs a sentimental thread

Through you and I as we grapple with subtle season-shifts

While comforted by apple-orchard orb’s enticing gifts

As we count down last days of summer with awed gratitude

For who can tally the vast ways of God’s goodness renewed 

Each morning is set free from a fresh flask of moment-dust

Then seize its opportunity and raise thy glass to Trust

For everyone can ill afford to pine for yester-years

But taste time’s vintage being poured, before it disappears

We have an obligation, nay, a privilege to give

To God pure adoration for each single day we live

September stokes in us an ache for Season almost spent

Where we are beholden to make the most of Mercy’s ‘lent’

And learn to love the colours that are slowly seeping in

For glove of youth and valour will soon don September skin

Where the fool mourns what once was, but the wise remain content

Time is too precious to fritter in bittersweet lament

© Janet Martin

Eccles.3:1

To everything there is a season, 

A time for every purpose under heaven:

It is also still very much canning season;

Off to make some salsa!

(I got up at 6:00 to start the canning 

but then the sun was rising 

and then a poem begged!)

And such is always the poet's quandary/dilemma

...to heed domestic duties or to poem-a 😏😊

Perfect Stewardship

The Greatest Command;

 Matt 22:34-40

Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together.

  35One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: 

36“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

37Jesus replied: “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart 

and with all your soul and with all your mind.’

  c 38This is the first and greatest commandment

. 39And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

  d 40All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Easier said than done because

human nature is pesky and persistent, but

with God all things are possible! 

No matter what we hold

may we remember we are given, 

not to indulge ourselves, 

but to share...

even toasty marshmallows💗😊

To love God first and neighbour next

Takes care of all the rest

Then we will live, far less perplexed

As we give God our best

If Self is where we ought to be

Life will be a success

Because we hold the joyous key

To finding holiness

‘To love God first and neighbour next’

Though struggles may increase

Transforms a heart, troubled and vexed

With hope, purpose and peace

© Janet Martin

It Takes Time (to make a flower)

Yesterday's Daily Bread Devotion included this needful reminder;

Even though trusting Jesus as Savior makes us a new creation,

there’s still some ongoing work the Spirit needs to do.

And it takes time and work 

for Him to accomplish “true righteousness and holiness”

(Ephesians 4:24).

True righteousness and holiness=true beauty!

Do you ever weary of the work and waiting

for the needful hidden heart-art 

before the flower flourishes?

I needed to dust the dahlias.

Something is eating out the bud before it blooms!

The pest-control-pruning-process is vital 

to producing a healthy plume

(earwigs love a good dahlia-feast)

The tendrils of this flower vine needed constant intervention

until they learned to climb

Oh, it takes time to become who, in Christ, we ought to be

The road is riddled with potholes, to true humility

The stumble and the faceplant, though unpleasant helps God turn

A stubborn heart into submission; it takes time to learn

We cannot rush the Hand that wove us in our mother’s womb

Just as it takes time for a bud to break to bare its bloom

So too, it takes time to become the masterpiece of He

Who understands that we are dust and loves us patiently

It takes time to eradicate the nature of the beast

We tend to do the things we hate the most, rather than least

And were it not for God’s compassion for humanity

And His boundless redemption how desolate we would be

If our hope in Christ were for this life alone, alas

How pitiful and futile then would be man’s days like grass

But because Christ has risen from the dead, we too shall rise

Thus, we revere the time it takes to prepare for the Prize

…for it takes time to learn to love, to let Beauty unfold

To purify the motive of, and crucify the old

So when we feel discouraged by hope’s hurdles and mistakes

Remember, this is just the heart-art/heart-part before the bud breaks

© Janet Martin

Psalm 103:13-18

As a father pities his children,

So the Lord pities those who fear Him.

14For He [a]knows our frame;

He remembers that we are dust.

15As for man, his days are like grass;

As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.

16For the wind passes over it, and it is [b]gone,

And its place remembers it no more.

17But the mercy of the Lord

 is from everlasting to everlasting

On those who fear Him,

And His righteousness to children’s children,

18To such as keep His covenant,

And to those who remember His commandments to do them.

Time's Phoenix

September's kick-off was lively and lovely

in spite of the fact that I was mourning August's exodus.

Today is like an invitation, lovely as can be

To turn moments still in motion, into memory

Sculptor, poet, painter, potter; we are one of these

Turning morning’s latest offer into memories

Heartstrings tangle with the angle of shadow and breeze

As we wrangle threads that dangle, into memories

Today brims with perfect reasons to do all we dare

To make memories from seasons slipping to thin air

For all that remains tomorrow of today, you see

From fragments of joy or sorrow is its memory

Make the most of moment-tinder’s sparkling cuppa tea

Because time transcends its cinders in a memory

© Janet Martin

Make the most of moment-tinder’s sparkling cuppa tea...

Because time transcends its cinders in a memory

from this...

to this...

I  turned my back to take a 'memory-shot...

and when I turned around two more had wiggled beneath the quilt ...

It wasn't long before another joined them...

(tiniest tot was tucked into bed in the house)

Welcome, Sweet September!

Cinderella Story

Today I wear the ache only

inevitable change can evoke...

Happy September!

Like a teapot

tipped and drained of

its last drop of tea...

Wondering what the tea-flavour is?

It's fresh-picked mint, lavender and anise!

Inspired in large part by the cooks on this YouTube channel;

Country Life Vlog

Each day unraveled

Like a petal

Rainbow run awry

Like a water-color

painting

Like a

Butterfly

Like a tea-pot

Tipped and

drained of

Its last

drop of tea

Like a page

Used and

perused

To taste its

poetry

Like a carriage

Grand and gleaming

Going to

the ball

Like modern-day

Cinderellas

Glass slippers

And all

Like a garden

Celebration

Pick and dig

and delve

August turned into

a pumpkin

When the

clock struck

Twelve

© Janet Martin

Trying to capture August in perfect poem

is a bit like trying to get a picture of a butterfly in perfect form;

You better be quick because it won't stay still for long

before it flits away...

The butterfly bush is a-flutter with colourful wings these days!

From Gentle Hands

This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."

Psalm 118:24

This is the day the Lord has made

A gift we dare not waste

Wrapped in blush tulle then gently laid

Beneath our touch and taste

Sometimes the highs and lows of love

Can cause us to mistreat

The Gentle Hands that tip Time’s trove

With treasure, bittersweet

To track-records of sad disgrace

He does not yet repay

Nor does He turn away his face

But grants another day

Where miracles are sometimes veiled

In merits, hard to see

And prayers that look as if they’ve failed

Are answered faithfully

Where what we want may not agree

With the needs He supplies

Goodness and mercy’s Mystery

Finesse faith’s hard-fought Prize

This is the day God helps us bear

A gift of thorn and rose

Then pray we trust Him with whate’er

His gentle Hand bestows

...and may we in return reply

Not with selfish demands

But open up our bit of sky

With kind and gentle hands

© Janet Martin

Pass Me Not Oh, Gentle Saviour

Oh, Gentle Shepherd

Take My Hand and Lead Me

My God, Where Shall I Wend My Flight

Firsthand Evidence...

 How beautiful to stand beneath a brand-new break of day...

How glorious to gaze anew at what never grows old

And feel God run his fingers through Time’s transitional fold

Of gold and blush and silver-blue...

How stunning to straddle the fence facing earth’s eastward edge...

To see firsthand the evidence of Mercy’s renewed pledge...

How beautiful to stand beneath a brand-new break of day

And sense above the rolling heath unfolding, silver-gray

The goodness of a Father as heaven’s fathoms proclaim

But glimpses of the grandeur, synonymous with His name

How glorious to gaze anew at what never grows old

And feel God run his fingers through Time’s transitional fold

Of gold and blush and silver-blue, His brush-strokes steal our breath

And waken our senses to feet perched on brinks of death

How stunning to straddle the fence facing earth’s eastward edge

To see firsthand the evidence of Mercy’s renewed pledge

To soak in ink of molten pink from founts vaulted in space

As He kind-beckons us to drink His signature of grace

© Janet Martin

Isa.12:4-5

“Praise the Lord, call upon His name;
Declare His deeds among the peoples,
Make mention that His name is exalted.
 Sing to the Lord,
For He has done excellent things;
This is known in all the earth.

Courage, With Joy

Below is a message from my friend Jane, sent to me years ago

after I confessed how terribly terrified I am to share the poetry publicly...

I printed and scotch-taped her reminder beside my computer screen

and it has been a powerful reminder more times than I can count...

Because of the prolific nature of this 'poem-porch' 

one might assume it's easy to hit 'publish' and bare heart-pieces to the world. 

But if it were possible to pull apart the place where feelings lie you would see

so much would-be insecurity, timidity and fear! 

However, whatever our creative outlet is, 

we only ever create with what God first has created. 

We are like children playing with His crayons 

and thereby we create 

and owe God an answer when He asks,

'What are you going to do with it?'

The most terrifying, exhilarating thing we will ever do

is to 'let go and let God!'

My friends host our church's podcast for women.

 Another friend is the guest on the latest episode 8.

I was so touched by her reminder that,

'as we are aware that we create with what He gives

creativity becomes a source and form of constant worship'

Yes, and

 This worship helps to fill life with constant joy!

George Macdonald wrote over a hundred years ago

"A poet is a man who is glad of something and

tries to make other people glad of it too"

That quote is still as true as ever

and reveals why an artist has the courage, with joy,

to share what they/we have created...

...to recognize with holy awe that all we are and touch

Is created and granted by He who loves us so much

We are so very diff'rent, yet still so very 'the same'

Created in His image to bring glory to His name

How loud doubt's voice would shout with fearful insecurity

Without His still small voice that whispers 'just do it for Me'

Then suddenly dark demons flee and joy transforms despair

As we honour His majesty with talents He put there 

Forbid, when face to face we give account for what we did

That pride or doubt or lack of faith kept our talents hid

Or that Comparison, (the deadliest kill-joy of all)

Would have succeeded in making us ashamed of His Call

So pray for courage to proceed with joy to glorify

The Giver with the gift that He has given you and I

Then, as we hold the crayons, may we be filled with sheer awe 

To feel His Hand over our fingers, teaching us to draw

Janet Martin

Let's all seek to bless others by glorifying the Giver

with our gift/s.

This poem could also be called

Why my to-do list grows longer and longer

because in the middle of Very Busy...a poem might nudge😊