February 22, 2016



February 22, 2016

Does the bird

on the branch of the tree in my yard


“Do I sing out of tune?”

By Martha L Shaw © 2-24-2015


Vintage Art and Photos

February 22, 2016

Poems From Psalms And Nature

rose-pictures-04Moss Rose by William French, courtesy of Reusable Art.

Photos are by Ellen Grace Olinger.

The two flower bouquets are from stores.  The other two photos are from my garden journal (2015).

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Singing the Gospel, Life on a Slum in Africa

February 19, 2016

The link below will bless you in ways I cannot describe!


Source: Singing the Gospel, Life on a Slum in Africa


February 19, 2016

YOU decide!

I Want To Be That Flower

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

– William Shakespeare –

wild rose_250x187

You Are Mine

February 18, 2016


Memories of your touch

Fill me with a longing

None can satisfy but you.

I listen to the silence

Remembering the sweetness of your love

Spoken in a whisper

Only I could hear.

You told me I was your princess

And made me believe it’s true.

The warmth of your embrace

At once electrified me

And brought such rest to my soul

As I curled up with you

Knowing you would be with me always.

I am safe,

I am yours,

You are mine


By Martha L Shaw – © 6-20-2013

Carrying The Cross – Original Art In Mixed Media

February 17, 2016

cross he carried3

By Martha L Shaw © 2-14-2016



February 17, 2016

Around The Corner

The path,

this sacred journey,

is filled with sharp turns .. .

corners around which we cannot see,

but oh, the beauty He has placed there

just waiting for us!

Keep moving forward

with Him!

By Martha L Shaw © 2-27-2015  Words and Pictures

By Martha L Shaw © 2-24-2015

How Deeply He LOVES Us

February 16, 2016

deeply in love

By Martha L Shaw © 2-14-2016


The Flute Seller

February 15, 2016


By Moushumi Ghosh

 On hot March afternoons, a flute seller appears playing a familiar tune, Dil pardesi ho gaya (my heart became a stranger), from an old Hindi film. It jolts me awake and then fades away. Another breath lost on the world. I search for him in the green haze beyond the window but he eludes me. As the tune fades into the rough noises of exhaust fumes, the notes hang in the air haunting me like the heady fragrance of jasmine flowers. Suddenly, there’s screech of tires, and I’m back in the world of plastic paper clips.

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