More Than An Outer-body Workout...

It's not the color of the page we are handed

but the colors we put on the page that matters most!

Yesterday morning captivating heavens enraptured our gaze...

This morning snow-kissed furrows startle us beneath bleak grays

Beneath the loads we shoulder we grow older tick by tock

Where stepping stones and stumbling blocks mete choice and consequence

Where quest of best intention is but jest in idle talk

Like leaves strewn on the sidewalk without much significance

Beneath daybreak’s deployment spills time’s elemental fleet

A most momentous matter of moment-matter's Grand Prize

Clock-jewels fuel duels between triumph and defeat

The heavy heel of hunger warring with want’s starry eyes

The merchant and the miser, the businessman and the bard

Will never quite see eye to eye while vying nose to nose

 For one weighs wealth with dollars, the other marvels where yard

And skies run wild with wonder. Well, we need both, I suppose

What cruelty we author when spite does not miss its mark

What masters of disaster we oft are in love’s fine art

But ah, student and Teacher meet where morning melts the dark

Creator and the creature never very far apart

Beneath the loads we shoulder we grow stronger as we age

Though first glance might presume the weathered plume is turning weak

Where limbs show wear and tear and youth’s green turns to silvered sage

The strength of gentled spirits far outshines the sleek physique

Beneath the loads we shoulder we grow older, yes we do

But pray, that in the course of steppingstones and stumbling blocks

Beneath the loads we shoulder we grow wise and kinder too

And pause to note the loveliness of leaves strewn on sidewalks

© Janet Martin

Psalm 104:24
O LORD, how manifold are thy works! 

in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.

By the time this post was complete the sun transformed the view...😊

Kind of like a parable because

The Son transforms bleak lives too!!

For Mother, Sweet and Kind

Between the bustle of keeping up with 

wife-mother-grandma-and childcare-giver duties/beauties

I often find myself drawing from a wellspring 

rich with sound teaching from my mother. 

Today my mom turns 79!

So thankful for my sweet and gentle mother💖

The green pastures of childhood soon turn gold with echo-song

While we reap the rewards of a kind mother all life long

How often we remember in the thick of living’s care

The memories of childhood and a loving mother there

Now often as we look back on fond scenes grown soft and dim

We thank God for the gift of a mother who honored Him

For as a child we could not see what the years strew behind

The precious, priceless memories of mother, sweet and kind

How swift the carousel of seasons spins and spills and twirls

And soon its eager children are no longer boys and girls

But men and women, moms and dads, so thankful to recall

Their precious, loving, faithful, gentle best-mother-of-all

...it doesn’t sound like much to tell it; how moms undo days

Cook-clean-laundry-scolding-holding-praying-playing-haze

With admonition for the wrong and kind praise for the right

We pray we too will leave behind a gentle guiding light

© Janet Martin

Potential Disaster...(by Faith Averted)

November unfurled in a blaze of glory/mercy renewed!

Cares press and threaten happiness; The shroud of The Unknown

Could blind us to what remains true; we never walk alone

Could have the gall to cast a pall of rude ingratitude

Before our eyes where morning skies unfurl mercy renewed

Could make us dread what lies ahead if we forget to lean

Upon The Word, undeterred by what will be-is-has been

Could toss about and make us doubt Hope’s anchor of the soul

Could rob us of the peace and love of faith that makes us whole

Could weigh us down with cynic’s frown where beauty breaks earth’s vat

Could make us miss the joy of This while fretting about That

Could darken hearts with venom darts while morning breaks night’s mold

And melts the stars from heaven’s bars to wash the earth with gold

Cares press and threaten holiness; the intellect of man

Could justify what some deny because they doubt Love’s plan

But God will bless with happiness those who trust Him and praise

The Giver of More Than Enough as mercy numbers days

What could befall cannot forestall God's goodness preordained

Nor circumvent His mercies bent with justice still contained 

Though what we see appears to be doom and gloom's bitter fruit  

What could unfold cannot withhold grace and truth's Absolute 

© Janet Martin

First when I got up life seemed to be trying to press

its shroud of cares upon my shoulders then My devotions included 

Psalm 47

Clap your hands, all you nations;

shout to God with cries of joy.

2 For the Lord Most High is awesome,

the great King over all the earth.

3 He subdued nations under us,

peoples under our feet.

4 He chose our inheritance for us,

the pride of Jacob, whom he loved.[b]

5 God has ascended amid shouts of joy,

the Lord amid the sounding of trumpets.

6 Sing praises to God, sing praises;

sing praises to our King, sing praises.

7 For God is the King of all the earth;

sing to him a psalm of praise.

8 God reigns over the nations;

God is seated on his holy throne.

9 The nobles of the nations assemble

as the people of the God of Abraham,

for the kings[c] of the earth belong to God;

he is greatly exalted.

...and Brenda's post once again reminded me

to celebrate life's ever-present beauty and joy!

That was all before the glory of daybreak when

'The heavens declared the glory of God;

the skies proclaimed the work of his hands.'

Psalm 19:1

...so no matter what is going on to compose our secret 

or not so secret cares and sorrows that could seek to dethrone our

happiness/holiness,

what a joy to remember

'God reigns over the nations;

God is seated on his holy throne.

Psalm 47:8

Ink-Smiths

 

Yesterday's chores included reorganizing and tidying book nooks!

Oh joy! Why?

I made room for more😅

The ink-memento below was forged from the poet's perspective

With ink they praise

With ink they weep

With ink they groan and grin

And purge with phrase

What cannot sleep

Beneath a shroud of skin

With ink they love

With ink they thrill

With ink they try and try

To snare glints of

An escadrille

That marches through a sigh

With ink they pray

And beg and brood

Where heartache’s millstones press

The gold and gray

Of gratitude

Into scarred happiness

With ink they cry

With ink they smile

While forging cons with prose

To pacify

And reconcile

The thorns beneath the rose

With ink they wield

Thoughts tools of trade

Where parchment anvils bear

 Whispers soft-steeled

Against the blade

That fells fields of thin air 

  

© Janet Martin

Morning Prayer

 

Jesus answered,

“I am the way and the truth and the life.

No one comes to the Father except through me.

John 14:6

John 1:4

In Him was life, and that life was the light of men.

Oh, that the joy of the Lord would ever be

the 'background to our consciousness'!

The excerpt below from the book

The Gown of Glory by Agnes Sligh Turnbull

(I esp. love the prayers in this book)

This morning's prayer-poem started before I was out of bed,

as I prayed the third stanza,

(for how can I/we have a closer walk with Him

if there is an area of unrepentance still unaddressed?!)

I kept switching this from a personal I/me format

to a general us/we settling on the latter

because we are all in this faith-fight together

and it is the prayers of God's people that

keep His army strong!

Father of earth and Heav’n

We praise Thee for Thy grace

In this new day that Thou hast giv’n

Let nothing take Thy place

Be Thou our strength and stay

Over each thought preside

For thought shapes what we do and say

Then let Thy goodness guide

By the lamp of Thy Word

Convict the rebel-heart

Because without conviction, Lord

Repentance cannot start

Lord give us eyes to see

The fringes of Thy Hand

The thunder of Thy majesty

Ah, who can understand

But let it be enough

Whether in gain or loss

To know Thy everlasting love

Was proven on the cross

Help us fight the good fight

As warriors of peace

Fit us with Thy armor of Light

Where doom’s dark threats increase

Where pitfalls plague and test

Where enemies press hard

Lord, bid our souls to be at rest

Yet ever on Thy guard

Help us hunger and thirst

After Thy righteousness

Let truth keep us from being cursed

By vain covetousness

Father of earth and heav’n

Instill in us the joy

That at faith’s birthplace first was giv’n

And man cannot destroy

As we face the unknown

Let Thy Presence portray

One Hand beneath each stepping stone

And one to show the way

© Janet Martin

Take Thou My Hand, O Father

Ode to October Almost Over

 

From morning's frost-gilt, mist-kissed filigree

To dusk's brusque, rusk-crisp tableau in what feels like no time at all!

Summer’s sanguine sparkle slumbers beneath autumn’s umber lull

Earth is steeped in muted murmurs siphoned from October’s hull

Hearts are always gently humbled when the world is full of fall

As the height of bloom is tumbled from its garden-pedestal

Jack Frost tweaks cheeks, ears and noses sparking poem-wanderlust

Canvas of daybreak exposes vistas etched in diamond-dust

Where a carousel of hours twirls the morning round and round

Like a sky full of leaf-flowers, moments flutter to the ground

While Duty tries to amaze us by granting backdrops of fall

And beauty drives us half-crazy by the wonder of it all

Camera lens never quite captures the majestic magnitude

Or the aura that enraptures as autumn dusk is subdued

Where, framed by the fading tincture on a page of history

We try to preserve its picture to relive in poetry

© Janet Martin

Ode to A Sunny October Day

After Monday and Tuesday's tempestuous weather

Wednesday was a dream!

The sky is like a sapphire bowl

 Tipped way up, upside down

The maple, like a parasol

Or queen with golden crown

The zinnia, like a lucent brooch

On azure collar pinned

The afternoon, a gleaming coach

Drawn by a sassy wind

The shadows like a tattered quilt

As holes begin to show

Where overhead autumnal gilt

Drifts earthward like leaf-snow

Where just to be alive is like

A gift twilight soon steals

The hour like a shiny bike

About to lose its wheels

The orchard filled with trees picked bare

Like ghost-towns lost to time

Save for a ladder here and there

Left for dreamers to climb

© Janet Martin

(this photo not taken yesterday

hence the gray backdrop)

this morning looks like another gem in autumn's crown!

This is the day the Lord hath made. 

We will rejoice and be glad in it!

Psalm 118:24

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and hills will burst into song before you,

and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Isa.55:12

Agape With Joy (or Faith's Sojourn)

 

I thought this was going to be a roughly 3-stanza poem, maybe 4.

 But each stanza seemed to pour out another

until the Hallelujah climax! 🎵🙏

Nature keeps eyes agape with wonder!

God keeps faith agape with Truth!

And lest we forget, it is God in nature too!

John 1:3

Through him all things were made; 

without him nothing was made that has been made.

Agape with wonder, faith reveres

God’s dominion, scorned by a foe

Fraught with opinion’s pomp and show

Distorting the order of fears

That dash the piers where mercies flow

How false the gods of carnal man

Perched on a fickle pedestal

That death assuredly will fell

What then, without the cross to span

The gap between Heaven and hell

How can we hear if none will preach

The power of the Living Word

Able to train, correct and teach

To bridge the intangible breach

Between the sinner and his Lord

Wonder is but faith’s shadow cast

Beneath the Gates of Paradise

What waits when death opens our eyes

And today’s Day of grace is past

Man’s noblest thought can but surmise

Timeless, the duty God demands

Of we prone to be puffed with pride

The Bridegroom still charges His Bride

‘To fear God and keep His commands’

To test grand boasts with Self denied

Pray, we remember in our youth

The Creator, before we say

We find no pleasure in God’s Way

And disregard life-saving truth

As to sin’s death-traps we fall prey

Since Jesus walked upon this earth

Centuries rise and fall like waves

Across a world stubbled with graves

Yet held in Hope’s Womb of rebirth

Because the name of Jesus saves

Agape with wonder, we profess

God’s faithfulness, steadfast and true

As we cling to His promises

‘I will not leave you comfortless

For I will come to you’

This is the day the Lord has made

The praise of mortal to employ

The foundation that has been laid

Is Jesus Christ. the debt He paid

Leaves faith's sojourn agape with joy

© Janet Martin

Inspired in part by the poem below...

The Over-Heart

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)

“For of Him, and through Him

 and to Him are all things, 

to whom be glory forever.”

—PAUL.

ABOVE, below, in sky and sod,

In leaf and spar, in star and man,

Well might the wise Athenian scan

The geometric signs of God,

The measured order of His plan. 

And India’s mystics sang aright

Of the One Life pervading all,—

One Being’s tidal rise and fall

In soul and form, in sound and sight,—

Eternal outflow and recall. 

God is: and man in guilt and fear

The central fact of Nature owns;

Kneels, trembling, by his altar-stones,

And darkly dreams the ghastly smear

Of blood appeases and atones. 

Guilt shapes the Terror: deep within

The human heart the secret lies

Of all the hideous deities;

And, painted on a ground of sin,

The fabled gods of torment rise! 

And what is He? The ripe grain nods,

The sweet dews fall, the sweet flowers blow;

But darker signs His presence show:

The earthquake and the storm are God’s,

And good and evil interflow. 

O hearts of love! O souls that turn

Like sunflowers to the pure and best!

To you the truth is manifest:

For they the mind of Christ discern

Who lean like John upon His breast! 

In him of whom the sibyl told,

For whom the prophet’s harp was toned,

Whose need the sage and magian owned,

The loving heart of God behold,

The hope for which the ages groaned! 

Fade, pomp of dreadful imagery

Wherewith mankind have deified

Their hate, and selfishness, and pride!

Let the scared dreamer wake to see

The Christ of Nazareth at his side! 

What doth that holy Guide require?

No rite of pain, nor gift of blood,

But man a kindly brotherhood,

Looking, where duty is desire,

To Him, the beautiful and good. 

Gone be the faithlessness of fear,

And let the pitying heaven’s sweet rain

Wash out the altar’s bloody stain;

The law of Hatred disappear,

The law of Love alone remain. 

How fall the idols false and grim!

And lo! their hideous wreck above

The emblems of the Lamb and Dove!

Man turns from God, not God from him;

And guilt, in suffering, whispers Love! 

The world sits at the feet of Christ,

Unknowing, blind, and unconsoled;

It yet shall touch His garment’s fold,

And feel the heavenly Alchemist

Transform its very dust to gold. 

The theme befitting angel tongues

Beyond a mortal’s scope has grown.

O heart of mine! with reverence own

The fulness which to it belongs,

And trust the unknown for the known.

1859.