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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)    |
| The day you left to stand for me, Hand, over my heart. Each battle fought to keep me free, Hand, over my heart. Each sleepless night, securing day, Hand, over my heart. All wordless thoughts can nothing say, Hand, over my heart. You loved ones left, that I'd loved ones see, Hand, over my heart. You sacrificed, that I could be, Hand, over my heart. How can I name all that you did, imagine now what you have faced, my heart of hearts some goodness bid for all the threats your band erased? Thank you seems so wretched plain to honor deeds you'd do again. To put my hand over my heart shows The Colors awe to end from start. Line Count: 20 Branch of Service: Navy Nationality of Service: United States of America by Jay O’Toole on February 28th, 2026    |
| This nothing day, it feels so free. Just time to go explore. With Fluff in bag, no clock to punch, these play days I adore. The tippy toes, I spin and twirl. I can't come down today. The world is my full canvas JOY! These feelings I can't say! "Oh, Fluff, look at the dandelions! My littlest days I played with these! I'd roll around and watch them fly. I'd blow them like a breeze! We really should take time, right now, to play with them again! I wonder where the seeds will go, and what new ground they'll win." She picked one, nearly smushed on face, transported quick to times gone by, the little girl exhaled her gale, white fluffs into the big, blue sky. Miss Gentle Purr, now alive again as swung around by arms began to sound like Fluff's great din with eyes in full alarms. "Oh, Fluff, my Fluff! So sorry I'm." She stopped, and looked around. "Am I now guilty of kitty crime? Will I to jail be bound?" Her feline friend bemused extreme, relieved to be released, now quick transformed by love it seems, her purrs to girl increased. Her mouth as cotton a swig she drank. She gave some to her friend, while cooing softly tuned with purr to help this breach to mend. She knelt so close, extended arms, and waited for a leap, that showed dear Fluff embraced her, too, and would her master keep. The hurt so small, the love so large, the day so full of dreams, returning to the white puffballs, she blew to sunlight gleams. line count: 22 poetry form: 5 quatrains & one couplet of iambic heptameter or octameter prompt number: 22 (February 22nd, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 27th, 2026 |
| The "want to" and the "can" are truly friends, who struggle the most. "Want to" sees the moon, and "Can" sees the dirt. "Grace" grasps hands with both. "Can" leaves comfort as "want to" shows restraint. "Grace" smooths Life, a blend. line count: 3 poetry form: sijo (3 lines of 15 syllables each) prompt number: 27 (February 27th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 27th, 2026 |
| You grasp at what's not really there. You seek, but still can't find. You hope through shifting sand's despair. You see, but still you're blind. Do you ask for help? Not often enough. Do you work with minimal tools? Do you honor those for whom you doff the hat to show, who rules? The Emerald Isle exceeds thy grasp, but music fills thy pate. The motivations of thy task are really rather great! 'Tis time to reach out for the goal, though fog is all around. You are still strong, your wisdom whole, your gifts do full abound. Your grasp still reaches when others shrink. You press on without fear. You work unbound by what others think. Your motivation's clear. line count: 20 poetry form: quatrains of iambic tetrameter & iambic trimeter couplets prompt number: 15 (February 15th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 26th, 2026 |
| So many things in this world seem to need my cleaning touch, but who could stand to have an old man, raised eyebrows to fix it up. Could you stand to have an old man's raised eyebrows to fix things up? I couldn't bear to have someone micromanage my life. How could I stand for someone telling me how to do the things of my life? Now jobless I resort to peace, enjoying how to live. Now jobless, but to live in peace, I enjoy this newfound life. To write a poem every day or two or three or more To write a poem every day or two or three or more shows relaxed heart, a peaceful face with thoughtful songs to sing. Show relaxed heart, a peaceful face with thoughtful songs to sing. For some day soon this life is done, and God's Control is all. When some day soon this life is done, and God's Control is all, there will be no things in this world, that need my cleaning touch. by Jay O’Toole on February 26th, 2026 |
| Murphy's Law can often keep me looking out for the weaknesses in life. It's problems often steep, run over all conveniences. The supper food was very good, that night of peace those nights ago, but then a stone got stuck quite rude somewhere I'd like you not to know. To live with pain the hours gain, but then it went sideways, I must go to hospital as right as rain to better feelings live and show. A wondrous day on sunny beach turned odd when all the water went. On muddy flat those folks beseech, "Run quick as sideways water's spent!" In hospital some souls revived, but then for others sideways bad. The sideways water had of life deprived, which made me feel of pebble glad. The pebble still my low back pains, "I need help, Dear Doctor Friend!" "In nearly a week, we'll look for gains." "'Til then, I stress must full attend." How doth this Life go sideways oft? How from its deleterious pokes by wind draw peaceful folks aloft, through pain's most unkind, constant jokes? "The fruit, the fruit," like Murphy's Law, "the dissonant and sideways tones." The words now parrot bright macaw, "Once joyful sin, now just the groans." line count: 32 poetry form: quatrains of mostly iambic tetrameter prompt number: 26 (February 26th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 26th, 2026 |
| The fingers of this monster wet yank me so firmly off my board. That reef I'm on's my deep regret. "How will it go?" My final word? The roiling waves, the shake machine 'twould be a drink of greatest delight, but I into the drink so green will rue my latest surfing plight. "Stay Up! Stay Up!" Each muscle screams as grappling lines jettison my peace. My hope for life on Earth, my dreams full struggle against it to find release. As down and down I go, succumb to barnacles, that slice my skin. Such loss of blood as I grow numb. The hope for me now fades to grim. The screen goes dark as lungs inflamed cry out for fresh air for to breathe. I pop up from the waves untamed as breath can come before the grief. line count: 20 poetry form: quatrains of mostly iambic tetrameter prompt number: 8 (February 8th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 26th, 2026 |
| 'Tis "shoot, pass, dribble" the triple threat You've got to watch or challenge met. He scores. He makes you feel regret. The triple threat in writing means, "the poetry, novel, speech" it gleans Great reputation's Joy it preens. By triple threat I mean you're good beyond all luck or miracle, mood. You're excellent deeds may oft seem rude. You mow, and landscape, garden well? You're a triple threat with much to tell. Some rest, but you create in the dell. Just think of possibilities. Three giftings, that your love it frees. Thy triple threat of lasting glees. A triple threat of piano, string, wind? Each day what music could you send! How few your talents could defend! A baker's dozen triple threat? The greatest taste buds are in your debt. Exquisite loaves, scones, cinnarolls met. To have success as child, teen, man is more than most of lives could span. The triple threat by greatest plan. line count: 24 poetry form: tercets of mostly iambic tetrameter prompt number: 25(February 25th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 25th, 2026 |
| The many things I hope to do, too often never done. I'd shared my faith, that it'd bless you, yet conversations, none. The tire runs flat without the air, that keeps it rolling on. The day runs fast without a care, 'til energy is gone. The light bulb for the play's spotlight must never be gone out for the climax scene on opening night or one's job will be in doubt. Omission comes in every size from large to very small. Right doing brings the biggest prize when Honor's deed doth call. Regrets of life on that last day, I'm told's not money more, but time with family, more to say, the things we oft ignored. line count: 20 poetry form: quatrains of iambic tetrameter & iambic trimeter lines prompt number: 24(February 24th, 2026) by Jay O’Toole on February 24th, 2026 |
| Sometimes in pain we walk around, 'cause nothing feels too comfortable. Patience tests as waits abound. Meds for pain would be wonderful. 'Cause nothing feels too comfortable, we need some notice, that we're seen. Meds for pain would be wonderful. "Quickly, Friends, we need to screen!" We need some notice, that we're seen, with hope that peace may be restored. "Quickly, Friends, we need to screen!" I'm praying often to the Lord. With hope that peace may be restored the Cortisol inside subsides. I'm praying often to the Lord, the life with me longs to abide. The Cortisol inside subsides. Patience tests as waits abound. The life with me longs to abide. Sometimes in pain we walk around. by Jay O’Toole on February 24th, 2026 Image #2273458 over display limit. -?- Image #2291665 over display limit. -?- Image #2337709 over display limit. -?- |
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