Showing posts with label simple things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label simple things. Show all posts

Monday, January 15, 2024

How The Plump Dove Fluffs Its Feathers (among a few other observations)


Happy, happy halfway through January 2024!!

Ps.145:9-10
The Lord is good to all; 
 he has compassion on all he has made.
All your works praise you, Lord;
your faithful people extol you.

How the plump dove fluffs its feathers with no need for looking glass...


How, if we look, we find much to be tenderly thankful for
How a good book adds a touch of passion to commonplace chore...
(more about below book Here: Homemaker's Prayer)


How a cup of tea is like a gentle, pick-me-upper hug...


How snow-stenciled scenery always gives my heartstring a tug...



How the plump dove fluffs its feathers with no need for looking glass
How love’s sentimental tether binds the present to the past
How spring, summer, fall and winter, Beauty cheers thought’s countenance
And how prayer’s flight is unhindered by season or circumstance

How we are awed, sweetly speechless by Nature’s Grand Orchestra
How God teaches and beseeches mortal worship through its law
How the creature is no match for the Creator; never was
Never will be; He is greater and deserves endless applause

How the measure of God’s pleasure steals the show without contest
How each new day grants the treasure of a fresh and untried quest
How laughter’s melodic mettle fills the air with seraphim
How the song of the tea kettle is my favorite kitchen hymn

How, if we look, we find much to be tenderly thankful for
How a good book adds a touch of passion to commonplace chore
How a cup of tea is like a gentle, pick-me-upper hug
How snow-stenciled scenery always gives my heartstring a tug

How in spite of so much sadness, gladness survives trouble’s gall
How, despite shape, height or status love is still One-size-fits-all
How a morning always rouses what has never been before
Mercy’s renewed summons wows us with God’s faithfulness once more

How, the howl of younger hunger slowly but surely succumbs
To a wizened, humbler wonder satisfied to savor crumbs
How at last we learn the secret to happiness, fit for kings
Not in gimme-gimme-reaches, but in joy of simple things

How, through loss we gain awareness of phrases like you-and-me
Cherishing the fragile rareness of fine words like ‘us’ and ‘we’
How, here we are cradled briefly between two eternities
One, that concerns the Soul chiefly, one of Bygone centuries

How an almost-poem’s tempo keens the poet’s appetite
How ink-swirls compose mementos of rhythm and rhymed delight
How the Bard, kindly encumbered with God’s charge to dredge blurred deeps
Probes the place where Ballad slumbers or Elusive Poem sleeps

How the Finesse of Forever wakes us to the wealth of Now
How the howling gale of winter makes home palatial, somehow
How we chuckle while the weather throws tantrums that never last
How the plump dove fluffs its feathers ready to face one more blast

© Janet Martin

(Below, the cardinal and Blue Jay pics are from my mother-in-law's house yesterday)


How spring, summer, fall and winter, Beauty cheers thought’s countenance...






Bird-watching bliss these days as the cold temps 
and snowy weather brings a feeding frenzy!









Tuesday, December 5, 2023

Because Life's Best Things Never Change...


The innocence of tot...




The sacred charge of we
Who train their tender chain of thought
By what they hear and see...

(below, the beginning of what I hope is a long, friendly acquaintance
with gramma's fridge...😂💗)



The pleasures nature grants
Where every season-lease
Spills spectacles of birds and plants
Each its own masterpiece...



Life’s best things never change
The beauty of the earth
And sky, where the heavens proclaim
Day’s demise and rebirth

The innocence of tot
The sacred charge of we
Who train their tender chain of thought
By what they hear and see

The pleasures nature grants
Where every season-lease
Spills spectacles of birds and plants
Each its own masterpiece

A soulful melody
That strikes a chord so dear
Its fond familiarity
Evokes both smile and tear

The comfort and delight
Of squash-soup in a bowl
To satisfy the appetite
Of both body and soul

The good of lessons learned
The woods frost-kissed, or awed
Spectators with faces upturned
To feel the kiss of God

The bliss of coming home
The love of family
To share and bear the grin and groan
Of mirth and misery

Laughter, free from pizzazz 
Of vowels and consonants
But lilts and peals and sparkles as
It teaches hearts to dance

The thrill in simple things
Good books, a favorite mug
New mercy as each morning brings
God's warm handshake or hug

The gift of growing old
To taste the sweeter truth
Of joys time designs to withhold
From fairer green of youth

Moment-bubbles that break
In breathtaking surprise
A candle-spangled birthday cake
Or lake full of sunrise

The possibilities
Where ingredients start
To tickle taste-bud fantasies
With culinary art  

God’s word, infallible
Unswayed by vain dispute
No mortal verdict can annul
His Sovereign Absolute

Though seasons/eons may estrange
So much that cannot stay
Because life’s best things never change
We will not lose our way

…supper table to set
Dusk’s shadow-hallowed death
Hellos to kindle wicks not yet
Snuffed by farewell’s last breath

© Janet Martin


The possibilities
Where ingredients start
To tickle taste-bud fantasies
With culinary art 


 The comfort and delight
Of squash-soup in a bowl
To satisfy the appetite
Of both body and soul





Thursday, July 20, 2023

Darling Day (With Granddaughter) Memento


First thing this morning I had
a call from my daughter wondering
if I wanted the company of a grumpy little girl today,
and what would a grandma say to such a question but,
'of course! I would love that!'💓
Just like a change of scenery can work cheerful wonders in us oldies at times,
so too in a child. 😅💖

Whether discussing crispy-egg-deliciousness, 


or, rules to learn (about mushrooms)


Whether it is pausing besides a glorious sweep of gold wheat seas
To revel in sweet summer bliss,...






It might be choosing the right cup for outdoor tea party for two...


Or floating on a pretend lake to practice for Real-Lake-Come-True


It might be strolling very slowly down a holy garden path
While footfalls slip into the echoes that waft in its aftermath


It might be picking lavender...


 to add to our lemon tea...


Before we sit beneath the arbor while making a memory



Whether discussing crispy-egg-deliciousness, or rules to learn (about mushrooms)
Or how a robin knows exactly where to find a juicy worm
Whether it is pausing besides a glorious sweep of gold wheat seas
To revel in sweet summer bliss, oh, we are making memories

Whether we give it second thought, or not, life rolls through Time and Place
And it is up to us to make the most and best of moment-grace
Because the afternoon is soon a bubble bobbing on the breeze
Bearing away the Little Day where we were making memories

It might be choosing the right cup for outdoor tea party for two
Or floating on a pretend lake to practice for Real-Lake-Come-True
It might be strolling very slowly down a holy garden path
While footfalls slip into the echoes that waft in its aftermath

It might be picking lavender to add to our lemon tea
Before we sit beneath the arbor while making a memory
It might be disregarding chore-lists just to sing a silly song
For little girls and boys are never very little very long

Life is much more than duty's doleful left-foot-right to growing old
Ah look, within our very grasp is a nugget of moment-gold
Then, because we never know when our final fond farewell may be
Let’s try to spend it on a precious, Best-we-could-make memory

© Janet Martin

Serving up some 'thtrawberry-shortcake oil tea'😂
(after a five-star plastic lunch!!)





Tuesday, May 2, 2023

Make Today a Celebration #2

 The previous poem sparked the same theme from another angle...

Our son turns 25 today sparking a bit of nostalgia
as well as rekindling fresh awareness for today's countless 
reasons to celebrate.

Like a bit of Pooh and Eeyore...


Like a raindrop spangled puddle...


Like a splash of violet stars...


Like the cackle of a grackle...


Make today a celebration
Count or write them in a book
Masterpieces of creation
That sometimes, we overlook
Like a smile, or isle of nature
That kindles the poet’s yen/pen
Like the rolling green of pasture
Stayed by shores, cerulean
Like a tot, a pup, a flower
Like an ocean in a shell
Or the beauty of an hour
Without duty to compel
Like the brook-bank for a pillow
Like blossom-embellished breeze
Or wind-song that turns the willow
Into cello-symphonies
Like a morning warm and yellow
Or an afternoon blue-gray
Like the eager little fellow
That no mother’s hand can stay
Like the echo of spent reason
Arousing a rampant ache
For the font of present season
Melding to what moments make
From daybreak so swiftly woven
Into twilight’s hushed caress
Stirring us to note life’s common
Ground run rife with loveliness
Like the cackle of a grackle
Or the singing of a lark
Or bite of juicy, red apple
Or a color-dappled park
Where a future generation
Riding childhood’s carousel
On steads of imagination
Soon will bear youth’s fond farewell
While we gaze with tear-dimmed hunger
At time’s ever-changeless way
Where no one is growing younger
On its run of day-to-day
While a momentous occasion
Invites us to sing and dance
In a conscious celebration
For each day and what it grants
Like a bit o’ Pooh or Eeyore
To make us chuckle out loud
Like a stroll along the seashore
Far, far from the madding crowd
Like a big ole brown pet bunny
Like a fresh-steeped cuppa tea
Like fresh bread drizzled with honey
Like phrases like you-and-me
Like the utter-ness of knowing
We have more than we deserve
In the soft spring zephyr flowing
Through pink orchard’s petal-verve
Like a wicker basket laden
With tastiest of munch-fare
And the delight of a maiden
Waiting to sample her share
Of a slice of almost heaven
On a quilt, worn picnic thin
Where mean foibles are forgiven
As the sun kisses our skin
And we feel life’s comforts, simple
Like a friendly, firm handshake
Like a baby’s darling dimple
Like a slice of birthday cake
Like a raindrop spangled puddle
Like a splash of violet stars
Like a sentimental muddle
Of  Love’s heartstring-tug-of-wars
Like a lilt where Lyric dangles
Bursting with unplumbed surprise
While the balladeer untangles
Tendrils of ink-cloven sighs
Like a stunning revelation
Or sudden epiphany
Make today a celebration
Of gratitude-poetry

© Janet Martin


"What?!!" gasped Dolly one to Dolly two
"What do you mean, you don't want a tweat/treat?!!"
(this I overheard while trying to sneak a pic) 😂💖






Wednesday, April 19, 2023

I Love a Life of Simple Joys or April Awe

 One of my favorite spring-highlights is unfolding...maple tree buds





I love a life of simple joys
Cup o’ chamomile tea
Laughter of April afternoon
Trickling through lace-graced tree
The tender tug of budded lures
Soft wafting overhead
Starred dark where dreams embark before
We are asleep in bed

I love the color of surprise
The violet stars that fall
To dapple dells and spark swells of
Sheer wonder-of-it-all
The innocence of child and pup
The flower-bowl of earth
Crowned with the perfect hue of blue
The merriment of mirth

Roused by the way the day begins
As heaven overflows
And mercy brims into hymns of
Coral, purple and rose
And as if this was not enough
Bird song that rings and rings
And rouses from awe-humbled hearts
Joy for life’s simple things

I love the way spring makes us glad
From our head to our toes
Like a firm handshake that can make
Us smile in spite of woes
The way that April woos the land
With kisses fit for kings
And wakens us to worlds unfurled
With wealth of simple things

I love a life of simple joys
Dimple in chubby cheek
Of baby boy or girl, a curl
To tease, a chin to tweak
A little plot to teach a tot
Who makes the garden grow
And how the seeds we plant can't hide
And we reap what we sow

I love the way a warm hello
Makes worth the farewell tear
How grief is the brute fruit of love
Yet oh, so very dear
If I could ask for anything
T'would not be stuff or toys
But just a humble plea to see  
Life, rife with simple joys

© Janet Martin

I love a life of simple joys
Dimple in chubby cheek
Of baby boy or girl, a curl
To tease, a chin to tweak...





Wednesday, February 1, 2023

Exquisite Things


Nobody else can offer my worship to the Giver of every good and perfect gift from above!

 

So, though often my poems are but bumbling responses 
to something written by master wordsmiths,
(The phrase 'exquisite things' snagged on my soul
 and stirred the first trembling of this poem!)
...my defense is simply that, at the end of the day, 
only I am responsible for my worship; 
only you can offer yours, by whatever gift or talent you have been given!
 Only I can offer my thanksgiving hymn. 
No one else can sing it for me, nor I for you!
But we can sing together!!
Let's take today and make it a joyful noise/shout to the Lord, shall we?!!

Psalm 100
1{A Psalm of praise.} 
Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.
2Serve the LORD with gladness:
 come before his presence with singing.
3Know ye that the LORD he is God:
 it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
 we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
4Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,
 and into his courts with praise: 
be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
5For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; 
and his truth endureth to all generations.



Though the noise of joy's employs/voices may vary, 
when offered in thankfulness it is always in perfect harmony
to God's ears!


(yes, even messes!😅💖😏)


Today, rife with exquisite things bids us delight; each morning brings
Fresh measures of pleasure’s surprise when we view life through thankful eyes
And recognize joy’s sterling thrills unfurling like treasure that spills
From mercy’s generosity to humble likes of you and me

…to cheer the years to growing old with so much beauty to behold
And so much wonder to arouse worship’s reply of breathless ‘wows’
Where nothing seems quite commonplace as we esteem the Giver’s grace
We often overlook and waste or trample beneath futile haste

I want that I should taste anew the darling dance of me-and-you
To gaze at God’s extravagance in ways that woo no thought but thanks
For heaven-glimpses here below, like feathers of fresh-fallen snow
For burgeoning where budded molds hold beginnings that spring unfolds

Today, rife with life’s high and low brims with hymns we would better know
If we would cease to hurry so like mad beasts charging to and fro
But pause to let awe’s ocean roll in holy thunder through the soul
Agog with wealth awareness wrings from vaults filled with exquisite things

© Janet Martin