Showing posts with label getting older. Show all posts
Showing posts with label getting older. Show all posts

Thursday, February 15, 2024

On Living In The Moment

Look! morning’s epic entrance thunders with moments we’ve never met...



Because God is without beginning or end,
there will be no end to goodness!

Sometimes I am guilty of forgetting this,
 falling prey to doleful dread, 
believing the good days are over for good 
rather than finding the good in each day,
and thanking God for it by honoring Him with it
 in every way I can!

(click reference link to read the whole glorious Psalm)

How great is Your goodness
which You have laid up for those who fear You,
which You have bestowed before the sons of men
on those who take refuge in You!




I do not want to stare too long at sanguine scenes in Bygone’s glade
Nor covet echoes of a song, much softer now than when first played
Lord, give me ears to hear What Is before its music disappears
Open my eyes so I don’t miss the font that soon fills yesteryears

Beneath the hand of Time harsh sorrows and raw edges smooth, it seems
Washed by a tide, primed with tomorrows, rolling through a world of dreams
Darling, ere you and I awaken on the other side of This
Let’s be sweetly and humbly taken by the melody that is

For, far too soon Bygone’s infinite isle will claim tunes turned to mist
So, let’s not waste one precious minute while today's lyrics untwist  
Look! morning’s epic entrance thunders with moments we’ve never met
Oh, let’s not grow too old to wonder at mercies not tasted yet

© Janet Martin

Oh, let’s not grow too old to wonder at mercies not tasted yet...


Dawn's eyelids were heavy with snow-shadows!

It's been a while since Old Man Winter
 lugged out his white-wash bucket and tipped it over the earth...
I almost have First Snowfall thrills!







Thursday, December 14, 2023

Juxta-precision (or Dust-to-Dust-pendulum)


In one week three friends from my church family
have bid their final, earthly farewell to a parent!
While still in the stage of going to friend's parent's visitation
it also serves as a solemn reality-check
 that our generation is surely, swiftly, subtly
 approaching the oldest-generation status; if God wills,
(Three-score-year and ten 
or by reason of strength four score years)
reminding us how fleet and short life 
is no matter how old we become!

The older we become, don't we tend to wring from today all we can
rather than looking back too long in longing, etc.
or looking anxiously ahead to what may or may never be?
Treasuring ever more dearly truths like these...??

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, 
so that in all things, at all times, having all that you need, 
you will abound in every good work.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, 
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

We are enjoying a stretch of sunny days,
always treasured more after a stretch of unsunny ones!

Dusk shots from the past few eves...




both curtain close...
 and curtain rise have been stunning...


Twilight’s taking charged with giving, 
as dawn defeats death with living...



Swift each season rearranges 
common scenes with constant changes
Moment-momentous pendulum 
measures morn-to-morn momentum

Beauty’s buffet always laden, 
for today’s trek, always maiden
Twilight’s taking charged with giving, 
as dawn defeats death with living

Certain and Uncertain freshens 
curtain-rise-and-fall successions
Reaching, the ladder to earning, 
Teaching, the scaffold to learning

Greed, the gutter of temptation, 
Need, the flutter of salvation
Love, awe’s open arms embracing 
Today, flushed with God’s kind gracing

Time, a fluorescent wing beating 
a clime of farewell and greeting
Hope, faith’s undiminished flower 
In a yes-nope garden-bower

...where each season rearranges
common scenes with constant changes
Where a moment-ous pendulum 
Measures dust-to-dust's momentum 

...ere that last breath will deliver
Deathless Soul back to the Giver
And what remains is The Reck'ning
For what sustains today's beck'ning

© Janet Martin



Saturday, September 30, 2023

So Long, September


This is always a sentimental day of the year...So long, September!
Swept away in a flurry of preparation and preserving!

September- the thick of
Earth's heaven 
of harvest!

So long, September’s misty morn...



Like a postlude, to tune the dark
With ballads slipping like a tear
No lips can kiss away...


Tonight's dessert awaiting a mound of freshly-whipped cream,
before heading to Jim's mom and sister, who are cooking the rest of supper!



So long, sweet sweep of summer spent
Of green-leaf secrets whispered ere
The air grew heavy with the scent
Of farewell’s pungent atmosphere
Ere daylight’s dusky hours fell
Faster beneath gavels deep blue
Where younger hunger tolled a bell
Of inevitable adieu

So long, September’s misty morn
Futile to stoke Past’s embers, oh
Or don a countenance forlorn
Where seasons always come and go
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to greet, a time to part
A time to laugh, a time to weep
And gather harvests for the heart

…fragments of color, peach and plum
Of hummingbird and butterfly
A petal-and-echo-spectrum
From summer full of days gone by
Of dahlia-pom-poms, vermillion
Of fields trembling with cricket lays
Of harvest moon medallion
Dangling above our raptured gaze

Where compositions of so-long
Rouse rhapsodies no pen can spell
Like the teal essence of sea-song
Rolling within, swell after swell
Like a postlude, to tune the dark
With ballads slipping like a tear
No lips can kiss away. Ah, hark!
Is that a falling leaf I hear?

So long, well-trampled garden path
By expeditions to and fro
To heap baskets with aftermath
That always awes and thrills us so
With toil and mercy’s dividends
Praise God from whom all blessing flows
For every break of day that wends
To so-long’s certain curtain-close

So long, purple wild aster art
And amber ambience that gleams
Like fresh-pressed cider, sweet and tart
To tease eager taste-buds with dreams
That, in spite of what time may take
It kindly, generously grants
Un-stoppered wonderment to wake
A time to sing, a time to dance

So long, so long, September-love
Of fading flower-serenade
Of clinging to a thinning glove
We wear on earth, but heaven-made
Of places we never quite found
And some we did, and never sought
So long, so long, September, crowned
With apple-red and golden rod

© Janet Martin






Thursday, March 30, 2023

Of Arms and Hearts (or, They Grow So Fast)

 It feels like we just did this but we did it again...celebrate granddaughter's birthday!!




They grow so fast we sigh, as seasons fly through arms and hearts
Where none can tame the twinkle in time’s eye or change its ways
The child soon tries its wings, tugging on strings that love imparts
While teaching us to treasure the fleet measure of Todays
For time is never idle; none can tame or bridle clocks
Childhood’s tower of make-believe soon tumbled by hard knocks

They grow so fast we cry, while milestones make us laugh and weep
Robbing us of ready reply when we try to explain
Love’s gladness that runs rife with sorrow for what none can keep
Where each wee babe soon tests the play of love’s parental rein
The brief heaven of innocence soon startled by a Voice
As the gavel of consequence falls on the heels of Choice

They grow so fast we say, and pray the Lord their souls to guard
With angel armies, for this world is full of deadly snares
Where soon our arms are lowered and the garden gate unbarred
And off they go; but never out of reach of tender prayers
Or the eternal cradle-dear, that no child can outgrow
The heart that keeps them near no matter where their feet may go

© Janet Martin 


Grand-daughter's 'prince' freeing the princess...


Found the sweet poem above in this book!








Monday, January 23, 2023

To We, Still Growing Older


Accomplishment/achievement happens one challenge/step forward at a time!
 Sometimes challenges take years to fully complete,
 some even a lifetime(such as a life well lived). 
And because nothing ever stays the same for very long the challenge is constant, isn't it?!! 
Listening to two funeral messages/tributes where children and grandchildren
 rose to call their mother and grandmother 'blessed' 
is such an inspiration to we still growing older 
and seeking to honor God in the season we are in!
Because sometimes what in the moment seems quite commonplace
 is in fact composing cherished memories and legacies! 



Titus 2:3-5(NKJV)
But as for you, speak the things which are proper for sound doctrine:
 2 that the older men be sober, reverent, temperate, sound in faith, in love, in patience;
 the older women likewise, that they be reverent in behavior, not slanderers,
 not given to much wine, teachers of good things— 
4 that they admonish the young women to love their husbands,
 to love their children, 5 to be discreet, chaste, homemakers, 
good, obedient to their own husbands, 
that the word of God may not be blasphemed.

Photo shared with their Daddy's permission😅💖


When we have no other engagements Sunday Supper at Gramma's & Grandpa's house 
has become a highlight for both the young and old!
Last night Grandsonny went exploring in the room that used to belong to Uncle Matt
and he appeared beaming broadly, with a treasure he unearthed!
Hockey Card Collection!




To we still growing older there is much still left to learn
As we begin to shoulder wisdom we have yet to earn
As we begin to fill the shoes not worn by youthful dreams
But with meek awareness of dues that sager ken esteems
As we begin to weather ways, we once thought quite far-flung
While we were living in the days that seemed forever young

To we still growing older because death is held at bay
Where time seems to grow bolder as swift seasons fall away
We start to sense anew the age-old way staid tick-tock works
As we begin to do the things that once drew winks and smirks
But we excused with kindness because, ‘they are old, you see;
Who knows, with youth behind us what kind of ‘old’ we will be?!’

To we of slowing footsteps there is much to take in stride
As Time begins to show us that it is not on our side
And soon we too will join the ranks of neither young nor old
Or rich or poor; then give God thanks as His mercies unfold
The sacred charge of setting a careful example for
Young men and women whetting raring appetites for more

To we still growing older, (where the Done none can undo
For no one can unsolder the door that each day runs through)
We reassess the beauties of an unsealed legacy
And the blessing of duties that befit maturity
Of kinder, truer patience as we bear in prayerful mind
The precious generation that is following behind

© Janet Martin

Eph.5:15
  Be very careful, then, how you live—
not as unwise but as wise,

Thursday, December 29, 2022

Frameworks of Farewell

 



The framework of farewell is filled with moments spilled and spent
Into a little locket frilled with laughter and lament
Where what we argue or reject, or believe and embrace
Becomes part of the retrospect that farewell’s frames showcase

Sometimes it seems I almost see Father Time tease my sigh
With a fedora jauntily pulled down over one eye
He tips his hat and with the other hand touches my cheek
‘There, there, you know I understand the words you cannot speak’

Sometimes I think I sense him wink as one more year becomes
The latest, stationary link of soldered cookie crumbs
And sums soft-shook from flowers that we plant, then pluck and press
Between books filled with hours of love’s hopeful happiness

Where bittersweet, an echo-fleet embarks upon a sea
That surges with the thrum of bare feet lost on Bygone’s lea
Where frames of farewell gaped while hellos rang in the New Year
From thresholds barely shaped before their doorways disappear

...into the mist of faces kissed and arms that ache because
We cannot gather back the vista of The Way/Day That Was
Where the New Year that tolled a bell dangling from midnight’s skies
 Is stilled in frameworks of farewell with now Old Year’s demise

Darling, (dear, Father Time, forgive my bold intimacy)
But you perplex the poet's rhyme without apology 
And vex brave fantasy with fact; darling, then hold me near
And I will hold your hat while you kiss away yesteryear  

© Janet Martin










Monday, November 7, 2022

Compilation of Adaptation



Nov. .PAD Challenge Day 7. For today's prompt, write an adaptation poem.
(This challenge completely slipped my mind this year, until this weekend!)

Happy Monday!
Here's to another page in life's compilation of adaptation,
(a work in constant progress)
We live in a world of whether-change!
Some whethers are like warm and friendly hosts,
others like unwelcome guests!
Forge on, my friend, by the grace of God
He crowns the broken with His beauty!
(like last night's sunset!)






To days gone by none can return
Nor ask for a preview
Of adaptations yet to learn
Where days to years run through

...a flue of love and life run rife
With hellos and goodbyes
No fitting rooms to choose its strife
Or try it on for size

...where it has always been like this
As days to years run through
We learn to adapt to what is
What more, pray, can we do?

...but make the best of what we hold
Lest, in lament we miss
The treasure made of moment-gold
The pleasure in the kiss

The melody twixt Yet and Was
Of holding and release
As Adaptations of Because
Create a masterpiece

While a medley of revisions
With days to years comprise
Adaptation's compilations
Of growing old and wise

The vanity of This and That
Soon slip-slip-slips away
Yet always a fresh welcome mat
Meets us at break of day

..and bids us up and onward through
Adaptation's bequest
While softly days to years undo
The buttons on Soul's vest

With fingers deft and dogged, oh
And whispers that beguile
Beseeching farewells with hello
And teaching tears to smile

Janet Martin
 

Bless the LORD, O my soul!

O LORD my God, You are very great;

You are clothed with splendor and majesty.

2He wraps Himself in light as with a garment;

He stretches out the heavens like a tent,

3laying the beams of His chambers

in the waters above,

making the clouds His chariot,

walking on the wings of the wind...

Psalm 104:1-3












Saturday, October 22, 2022

Ode to October (literally and metaphorically)

 





When season-end baskets and bowls
Cradle final gleaning that tolls
With future gardens gathered in...



When garden gourds are gathered in
When woodland awning starts to thin
When Jack Frost takes a predawn stroll
Across each frond, pond, nook and knoll
When landscapes start to don the hues
Of purple, umber, bronze and blues
When nature is like a lodestone
Drawing us from work to be done
When the wind’s kiss pinches and nips
Ears, noses, chins, and fingertips
And sunrise skies are stark and sheer
We know October’s end is near

When like a gush of waterfalls
Hearts bear a rush of madrigals
That beg for brushes, ink and page
And yet no artwork can assuage
The bittersweetness of the sense
Of bare feet shod with recompense
Driving the wearer of dues wild
With whispers of Forever’s Child
Because for all that time does steal
It leaves behind the kind appeal
Of happiness’s eager joy
Akin to a hungry schoolboy

When a brisk broom nobody sees
Chases a brood of laughing leaves
Across the stubble-stippled lea
Of summer’s silenced symphony
When apple orchards don the pall
Of Bygone’s quiet, hallowed hall
Where voices danced, drifted and rang
As pickers bantered, jived and sang
When market stands are heaped with fare
That busy, calloused hands put there
When harvest-bustle dwindles down
Turning earth into a ghost-town

When rustle-fell and footsteps merge
When want and wonder taunt and surge
When echoes stir the settled dust
Of pretty, petalled wanderlust
When joy and sorrow intertwine
Like buds betrayed by brittle vine
When golden tapers start to dim
To labyrinths of darkened limb
And front porch lights dapple the dusk
Like warm welcomes against the brusque
And brooding, lowering of eves
Awash with rain and wind-tossed leaves

When little cakes and cups of tea
Adapt an ache of luxury
And books, like patient, paper friends
Wait, where winter will make amends
When season-end baskets and bowls
Cradle final gleaning that tolls
With future gardens gathered in
To box, or bag, or crocks, or tin
As jar upon jar testifies
Of Bounty’s mercy-laden prize
And gold and green turns bare and brown
As Autumn lays its glory down

When pots simmer with supper soup
And contentment is like a troop
Of hungry helpers warmed and fed
With soup and cheese and fresh baked bread
When The Poet wrangles to rhyme
A very precious sense of time
...we ought to take to touch and taste
What none can keep yet none can haste
But simply treasure as it rolls
Like sea-song across hearts and souls
To listen to its lyrics played
Before its notes of color fade

When Mother Nature claps her hands
With final no-nonsense demands
We know October’s end is near
Ah, time enough to shed a tear
After the pangs of what must be
Become pictures in poetry
After the hatches of the land
Are battened down by a firm hand
Tucking the town and country lane
Beneath a downy counterpane
When hearths flicker, crackle and grin
While winter softly closes in

When, with the turning of the sod
We trust the providence of God
Who cups the crux of season-strains
In law and order He maintains
In the beauty that He designs
In the goodness that He refines
In the perfection of the plan
Above the ways and wiles of man
Then, with the deaths that Autumn brings
We do not fret the Yet of things
Because the Love that tolls time’s bell
Instills hello in each farewell

The appetite of hungry clocks 
Insists we put on shoes and socks
Insists we turn the other cheek
For rebel-rousing rogues to tweak
Insists we yield; futile to fight
The fortitude of day and night
Insists we learn how to let go
Of No Returns that we love so
Insists on pressing crease by crease
The telltale signs of Autumn's Lease
Insists on teaching us to dress
Our naked wants with thankfulness  


© Janet Martin

When apple orchards don the pall
Of Bygone’s quiet, hallowed hall..









Saturday, September 10, 2022

September Stage...



Aren't you glad fall is not a bully, but eases summer hearts toward the door of season-change
with such a pleasant demeanor we cannot be too sad...

Fall flutters in on zinnia-wings...

...on sedum's demure blush

Beneath a sweep of cumulus and nimbostratus skies
Soybean fields glitter with impressions of bronzed butterflies


Fall shimmers in on misty morning glory mantled stairs...



Fall flutters in on zinnia-wings and sedum’s demure blush
On cinnamon and cardamom and ginger-burnished bush
Beneath a sweep of cumulus and nimbostratus skies
Soybean fields glitter with impressions of bronzed butterflies

Fall moseys in while we get cozy in sweaters and socks
While harvest spills and toil refills jars, bins, barrels and crocks
While amber ambience begins to steep the atmosphere
With the sweet-bitter sense of summer’s farewell drawing near

Fall eases in where trees begin to tell the tender truth
How even earth cannot preserve verve of eternal youth
But yields its hills and fields to the law and order of God
Who orchestrates the floodgates of bud and seed, sky and sod

Fall shimmers in on misty morning glory mantled stairs
It gleams in streams of golden rod, in purple aster-flares
It loiters in the orchard where the apple tree is bent
With proof of summer’s fond, fruit-laden, fading testament

Fall tints the countryside with hints of ‘what must be will be’
Before the End of Summer is declared officially
Like the turn of the tide fall starts to flow across a shore
With ripple over ripple until summer is no more

Fall sparkles in September's winnowing of summer's ties
September, like a harbinger with kind and laughing eyes
Is gently drawing autumn's door ajar before the rose
Has strewn its petals on the floor of summer's curtain-close 

© Janet Martin

Happy Sweet, September Saturday!