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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)    |
| "You have arrived at your destination." The old, baby blue truck got us there. "Creak waaaah." The truck's old door sounds like my joints, sitting under trees in days' stagnation. To walk real fast, ask, "How? And where?" Could be the hinges need oil's anointing? Facade seems nice in bright orange shades. I like one door. I like the walls. The other door and window's weird, like darkness, that never light obeyed. Should I go in? What lurks in the halls? The mystery whispers at all I've feared. Methinks beyond the surface impressions. What kind of people live inside? The walls have crafted indentations. I need to hurry to my counselor's sessions. Unknown piques fears, that I can't hide, but courage leaps at missed appointment's charge. line count: 18 poetry form: iambic tetrameter sestets (with variations) prompt number: 19 (February 19th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 19th, 2026    |
| Rudderless on the glassy sea, though rudder I've, that waits for use. "Assail these sails, Dear Windless Sky!" My thoughts of home all wearied be. The crimson skin of sun's abuse doth fairly cause a raspy cry. The winds of change find not my barque. Hopes of bookish writing's stilled. Growing clouds pique winds to come. Sadness fills as startings park, writing's lull from all I've willed, interest dies as do the sums. One lone breath wipes a crusty tear, while my parched heart, and breathless soul find new strength to work anew. Cloudless day brings cloudy fear. Wind comes soft, then gale-strength whole as poet's sail knows hope renewed. line count: 18 poetry form: iambic tetrameter sestets (with variations) prompt number: 1 (February 1st, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 19th, 2026 |
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