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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
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“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech. We should be better Christians if we were more alone, waiting upon God, and gathering through meditation on His Word spiritual strength for labour in his service. We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. . . . Why is it that some Christians, although they hear many sermons, make but slow advances in the divine life? Because they neglect their closets, and do not thoughtfully meditate on God's Word. They love the wheat, but they do not grind it; they would have the corn, but they will not go forth into the fields to gather it; the fruit hangs upon the tree, but they will not pluck it; the water flows at their feet, but they will not stoop to drink it. From such folly deliver us, O Lord. . . .” ― Charles Spurgeon “Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ― C. H. Spurgeon “Hope itself is like a star- not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity.” ― Charles Haddon Spurgeon “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” ― Charles Spurgeon “A Bible that’s falling apart usually belongs to someone who isn’t.” ― Charles Spurgeon “Visit many good books, but live in the Bible.” ― Charles Spurgeon “When your will is God's will, you will have your will.” ― Charles Spurgeon https://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/2876959.Charles_Haddon_Spurgeon (Philippians 2:13, KJV)    |
To live this life throughout our days 'tis best to love a lot. The time to live in all our ways makes loves be not forgot. We love each human, ev'ry pet throughout their lives on Earth. To live each day without regret, we love for all we're worth. To pat an arthritic doggy back shows love of measure full. To not do this would show some lack, and leave some thoughts to mull. To read a story to a child, and pray, that God would grace this loving soul, who's blest and smiled for years this hopeful place. To do the dishes oftentimes, to vacuum up the floor is a loving gift beyond all dimes, that can't buy love some more. The day has come to put the love of Bruhni in a box. So sad the heart for this sweet "dove," no more those precious talks. But still the days of joyful faces on my daughter, wife. Beaming gratitude mine graces for the days of life. Love requires the full gift of strength for the objects of our love. The happy dance, that lasts the length is broken when they move. The dog, who found her warm embrace between the master's legs has left great tears of salty taste to drink the bitterest dregs. The tiny one, who could not reach a top-shelf washer dish is a fully-grown adult to teach some newer child to wish. The youthful bride I met ago some forty years now hence still beams the heart-filled light I know, the days of warmest sense. The days are passing way too swift. My love must last beyond the time of money usage thrift by Love's effusive bond. 'Tis wise to love, that when it's o'er my days will be known by my selfless deeds and loving store. It stays when grief must fly. The loving days of family life are blest forevermore. The dearest daughter, and my wife are always "the top drawer." The days with Bruhni, fully done, the grief still fully raw, the love she lived was fully shown. On hope, I need to draw. It's wise to love with all our hearts. Yes, losses are quite hard. The love, that never knows its starts will never make the bard. -------------------------------------- Prompt: "APRIL Fools or Wise WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO? HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT IT? USE WORDS TO SHOW EMOTIONS AND ACTIONS.bold the words in your story-poem Poetry form: STORY POEM - MINIMUM OF 16 LINES MAX LINES 64." Lines: 64 Quatrains: 16 Words: 393 --------------------------------------- by Jay O’Toole on April 30th, 2024   |
pollen, heat, and breeze days now longer in the sun chilliness retreats by Jay O’Toole on April 29th, 2024 |
coat was beautiful nevermore to live with us remembered and loved by Jay O’Toole on April 26th, 2024 |
| The mockingbird, it sits upon the fence, espying where and when to sing its song. Entuning thoughts without one slight offense. He tweets of many songs from far and wide, rememb'ring how at first his notes were wrong. He sings well now as one by skills applied. A flight he makes into the bush from tree, then bouncing on the ground through leaves of grass, he waits some moments for his song to free. Now, he and spouse do search for many'a stick, that young ones may receive baton to pass, 'til future days when notes be rather thick. He sings well now as one by skills applied, 'til future days when notes be rather thick. by Jay O’Toole on April 25th, 2024 |
How bless-ed was the day He chose to change the way I truly am. Salvation can no one oppose within His everlasting Plan. Regenerated, born-again, this recreation in His Time must by His Hand away from sin be given sight, no more be blind. Completely dead in blindness lost, before He made of me His son. He bore my debt, the latest cost. Eternal Life for me He won. by Jay O’Toole on April 24th, 2024 |
My precious friend, and dear, dear dog. So many years with us. Today, we drank the bitter grog of Death's untimely thus. We left you on the vet's cold bier, so still in nevermore. Now, wet my eyes from many a tear in memories of before. Your faithfulness to each of us is treasured in our hearts. Our tousled thoughts are in a muss, rememb'ring all our starts. Dear "Bruhni Bell," you'll e'er be missed, until we meet, again, if that's God's Will in lasting Bliss as everlasting friends. by Jay O’Toole on April 23rd, 2024 |
"Drink my potent liquid gift, that thine eyes be clear. Let me all thy spirit lift, take away thy fear. "Great the day of shouldered weight. Great thy hopefulness. Sip the smokey cup, our date. Cornered table bless. "Moments drinking fluid, blond nestle thy repose. Skip thy mind-rocks on this pond. Rippled joys are those. "Wakefulness of frothy top guides victorious day. Step by step 'til need thee stop. Bliss takes thee away. "Cup of coffee, sipping friend, cream and sugar meet. Wondrous shop where these all blend. Good this glad retreat." by Jay O’Toole on April 23rd, 2024 |
When the day fades to its dusk, when the night the sky it fills, when the back feels sharpest tusk, needed hope relieves these chills. When the light can't bring its peace, when the dark is full of doubt, when the silence is release need we hope to stand about. When the words in the past, were great, when laud was once our dearest friend, when writing served up every plate great hope was there us to attend. When days to come were newer goals, when youthful legs would run the roads, when ideas were bright and bold then hope was blest in every mode. The day will fade when the light is gone. The night brings rest, and hope to come. The new by God is bless-ed drawn. The beat is heard by The Day's new drum. In grief, we slump through sadness known. No longer can we see the face, but better is our life now grown through time we spent in friendship's grace. When the day fades, life is o'er, but hope in God relieves some pain. Eternal is the bless-ed store. Lasting Day is ever gain. by Jay O’Toole on April 22nd, 2024 |
You try to learn to do the new, yet what we've known is stronger. Crocheting with some threads won't do. There's progress, but it's wronger. With threads so smooth I can crocket, or knit or friendship knot it. With scrubbing threads, what can I say, "They're bumpy, splayed. I caught it." I made a scrubber, but just once. The smoother thread was working, but this material won't ensconce. I can't crochet. I'm shirking. by Jay O’Toole on April 19th, 2024 |
The breezes blow as the days grow warm. The sound a strongish hum. Protecting from the heat and harm, reducing temps, now, some. A "white noise" background for this eve the fan proves rather large. Some birds still chirp. No need to leave, though whirring's like a barge. A gift, I'm able still to sit outside to write this post. Without the fan, I'd need to quit for heat's discomfort most. by Jay O’Toole on April 18th, 2024 |
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