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Love and marriage are the greatest adventures in life, and they point they way to our relationship with the Almighty.

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Thursday, February 29, 2024

The Saddest Words Of All


The cancer thing is rough and horrible, and I don't want to write about it today.

Still, it does leave room for thinking, and regret.

The saddest words were ever spoken,
words that flaming hell portend
illume a grace that has been broken,
and chill the soul, 'a former friend'.
What fell road led to this place
in which we see fellowship killed?
Can we still not find a trace
of love, or has the heart been stilled?
What is it, that is worth the fight
that comes between what should be whole?
Why pick we Egyptian night,
and let it fester on the soul
when we might yet chose to forbear
insult, and still consent to care?

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is SUFFER. Can you suffer through another sonnet?

Will you bow, and choose to suffer
through an insult meant to wound?
Will you let God be your buffer,
when you've wept enough, and swooned
into the arms of black despair,
into the vale that floods with tears.
Will you let Him find you there,
let Him shield you from your fears?
Let the pride go out and pass,
let surrender be your all
that you may lay the looking glass,
and with fresh eyes behold the wall
behind which for years you have hidden,
and to surmount you now are bidden.

Three minutes thirty.

Barb does say I make her climb the walls, sometimes.

Music from The Sandpipers, with Come Saturday Morning

Come bearing ice cream, and all insult is forgotten.

Tuesday, February 27, 2024

Will You Say Hullo? (Tell His Story)

 He slipped into the rearmost pew,
a denim vest, no shirt.
No telling what he had gone through,
but clearly he'd been hurt
by the turns his life had taken 
by drugs and fights and alcohol.
Not broken yet, but he was breaking,
and he'd hit a wall
in which, by some wonderment
a door had opened wide.
Was it choice, or was he sent?
No matter now, he stepped inside,
and when it was collection time,
he offered up his final dime.

Music from Switchfoot, with Love Alone Is Worth The Fight

Sylvia says ice cream is worth the fight, as well.

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Thursday, February 22, 2024

From Good To Great To Really Stupid

Tolstoy said it best.

If everything is possible, then nothing is true.

This country's gotten very weird
with stranger days to come.
I'll bet that's not how it appeared
to ol' George Washington.
They want us in electric cars
(Stop global warming! Do your part!),
and though their dreams reach to the stars,
in winter they won't start,
which proves that you can't legislate
Mother Nature's laws,
but the self-proclaiming great
just cannot see the flaws,
or that it's a load of bull,
to say that All Is Possible.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is RESPITE. Yeah, I need a break. Not happening.

I wish that we might have a respite
from the morons in DC,
who daily have a happy fit
when they think of doing me
some damage with their regulations
to make the whole wide world so green,
and so they offer strangulations
on each and every good machine
that makes the rural life worth living,
gas stoves and cheaper ceiling fans.
It seems they think we should be giving
carbon credits to the lands
that would happily replace
our nation, once held in God's grace.

Three and a half minutes of real irritation. 

How do YOU feel?

Music from The Monkees, with I'm A Believer

Sylvia is happy to eat ice cream when it's cold. She has a warm heart.

Tuesday, February 20, 2024

What Heaven Awaits? (Tell His Story)

 What is your Heavenly vision,
what is the Paradise you see
beyond this life, this fallen prison...
what will come, what is to be?
Is it like King Arthur's court,
vasty halls and angel choirs,
or is it more Valhalla's fort,
swords and mead and roaring fires?
Are there streets all paved in gold,
or is there grass beneath bare feet?
Is it warm, or ski-ing cold,
and is there chocolate to eat?
Will you arrive by flight or stair,
and who'll be first to greet you there?

Please share your thoughts in the comments!

Music from the Alan Parsons Project, with Closer To Heaven

Sylvia expects ice cream and belly rubs.

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Thursday, February 15, 2024

Lesson From An Elephant

 These days I am on the brink,
stuck upon the downhill track,
and as I write these words I think
that I just had a heart attack.
Pressure like an elephant
taking his ease on my chest;
full-grown bull, not a runt,
administering me this test:
will I quail, and will I cry
out to God to make it pass?
That I do not want to die
and be, to Him, pain in the (donkey)?
Or will it be that I cash in
my final chips, wearing a grin?

I think that I'm kinda spoiled,
facing stuff like heart attack
and cancer that has really roiled
my life, but I don't feel the lack
of golden opportunity;
I had enough in olden days
to know that it is not for me,
and I far prefer the maze
of pain and fright and good ol' dread
because it is a challenge.
Sure, I'm gonna wind up dead,
but being dead I'll manage
to give the Holy Lord a laugh
by giving Him my autograph.

Four minutes of fun.

Music from 30 Seconds To Mars, with Do Or Die

Sylvia forbids my dying. Period, Pit Bull Style.

Tuesday, February 13, 2024

The Prodigals Among Us (Tell His Story)

 They will do the worst of things,
viciousness to make you weep,
but to our gentle King of Kings
they're the lost and precious sheep
for whom Heaven will rejoice
if after having been astray,
they return, and angel voice
will in triumph mark the day.
And what is it we will have done
as the Good Lord chased them down?
We will be that elder son,
standing, arms crossed, with a frown,
resenting Father's greatest joy,
the once lost and new-found boy?

Music from Lacrae, with Church Clothes

Sylvia will celebrate with anyone, as long as Ice Cream is invited.

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Thursday, February 8, 2024

No, The Grapes Aren't Sour

'The grapes are probably sour, anyway,' said Aesop's immortal fox.

When your dreams drift completely out of reach, the temptation is to dismiss and devalue them.

And sure, maybe they were vain and self-serving, but you know...probably not. Like those grapes.

They were probably pretty worthwhile.

Some people will tell you, 'let it go'. Great advice, but it's not that easy.

You have to say goodbye, with love and longing.

A shibboleth I'd like to shatter
is that all those things what never was
did not, do not really matter,
'cause they really did, and does.
And you have to reach that point;
on this, I must be sadly clear
that it's no good to light a joint
and down another case of beer,
for chickens will come home to roost
in the corner of your mind,
and no escape lies in 'confused',
and no relief in being blind.
Face the monsters, now, of sorrow,
'cause they'll only grow until tomorrow.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is CONSUME. Eat this!

The fox could not consume the grapes
for they were much too high,
suited better for great apes,
and jumpers such as I.
Now we all know white men can't jump,
but I'm not white, you see,
and you really should not lump
white folks in with Chinese me,
who can leap unto the stars
on legs of banded steel,
trained well upon the monkey bars
and thus can make a meal
of the grapes upon the vine,
and I won't share, they're mine, all mine!

Oh, very well, fox. Here ya go.

Four minutes.

Music from Jackson Dean, Don't Come Lookin'

Sylvia WILL come lookin'.

Tuesday, February 6, 2024

Dancing King (Tell His Story)


Will you live out loud for God?

Will you dance before the Lord,
as Dave the King was bidden?
Or do you think you can't afford
this show, and must keep hidden
your faith and trust, and yes, your love,
that you might not be flamed
on Facebook for the One Above...
are you, dear heart, ashamed
of all the things that you believe
(I might lose some friends!)?
Will by omission, you deceive
those who would condemn your ends
to make them think you're like them too,
faint of heart, and not quite true?

And yes, of course, here's ABBA with Dancing Queen

Sylvia is the ORIGINAL Dancing Queen. If you ain't seen a Pibble dance, you ain't seen nuthin'.


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Thursday, February 1, 2024



I'm really sorry that I've been negligent in responding to y'all's comments, and haven't commented on as many of your posts as I'd like to. It's gotten pretty hard to concentrate when I try to write.


Every moment's glorious,
every hour holds it all,
and that's why I'm notorious
in standing hard against the fall
that so many have predicted
is coming down the no lane;
why not let go when life's inflicted
so much heartache, so much pain?
The answer ain't so very tough,
and I will give it here:
I will never have enough
of all that I hold dear,
God's palette of bright sunrise skies,
and the glow of loving eyes.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is WASTE. Let's not waste any time!

Let us not waste any time
in the spread of the Good News
by spoken word, by prose or rhyme
to dissipate the leaden blues
of those who have not yet found Christ,
or those who failed to heed the call.
Our comfort must be sacrificed,
and we must dare to cross the wall
and go into the wilds beyond
to meet doubt and grim skepticism
with that Sunday's gay palm frond
and, week later, He Is Risen!
to give those feeling misbegotten
the knowledge that they're not forgotten.

Four minutes and change, because I got hung up on a rhyme for beyond.

Music from the Foo Fighters, with Walk

Sylvia says, Ice Cream. Don't forget ice cream.