These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Poems Grow

The poem writ when I was young,
explored the depths of angst.
Of filly foal, my heart had sung
with no response, nor thanks.

The exercise of writing verse
renewed my wounded soul.
emotions poured, the best from worst,
and quickly I was whole.

"Oh, thank you, Lord, for giving me peace.
This medicine is great!
If you'll give me this gift and increase,
for you, I'll write from this date."

The years have passed as poems flow.
I write of Lord and love.
Few gifted ones I've come to know,
but I've guidance from Above.

But much has changed, since The Poet's Place
has been my friendly home.
They've helped renew and lift in grace,
while paring a wordy tome.

Philosophy's the steering gale
in which the barque makes way.
Proverbs 3 still billows sail
to nerve what fingers say.

I trust the Lord with all my heart.
My understanding's small.
I lean not on my self-filled part.
His name is the one I call.
(Proverbs 3:5)

In all my ways I honor Him,
at least I try this do,
and when my best is rather slim,
He guides my paths so true.
(Proverbs 3:6)

I try to write of earthly things
as classic poets taught,
but when I stray, my heart still sings
of Christ, my spirit's bought.

My words still light and rest ensconced
in hearts, who love the Lord.
I live my life for one response.
"Well done," the Master's word.

by Jay O'Toole
on February 3rd, 2020