Sunday Sonnet!

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Give me the grace my selfishness to yield,
Compassion shall its absence gladly fill;
Grant me the hapless indigent to shield,
Their long untended hungriness to still;
Give me the will intentions to sustain,
That time may not their content dissipate;
Grant grace that I my self-respect retain,
Lest mine, like other promises stagnate.
Mortals surrender easily to I,
Succumbing to unbridled appetite,
The route for all the world to go awry,
At last, declining into moral night.
To close the ever-widening divide,
Shall we build walls or bridges, let’s decide!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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As waves of incense permeate the air,
Infusing everyone with fragrance sweet,
A sense of the divine, beyond compare,
Reach out, in love, the praying soul to meet;
Immersed in plainsong’s joyful, lilting tone,
Committed devotees their worship tend,
In adoration of the Great Unknown
Whose steadfast faithfulness none can unbend;
Some hold such observation in contempt,
Decrying blind belief as fanciful,
Yet proof resides within sincere attempt,
And not in wrapping minds in cotton wool;
The fool can see no sense in anything,
The wise perceives some good in everything!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Gently the voice of silence resonates,
Throughout the open confines of this place;
Each rhythmic wavelet subtly percolates
Into the healing balm of Love’s embrace.
Undaunted by distraction’s cunning hand,
Nor deviated by the wiles of doubt,
Her lastingness vicissitudes withstand,
In single-mindedness resides her clout;
Consistency and Strength be her hallmarks,
No fear nor favour for the High or Low,
They come within the ambits of her arcs,
Who humbly open-heartedness do show;
Rewards, beyond compare, have come to those
Who portals into beck’ning silence chose!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Within the confines of this darkened room,
Surrounded by unspeaking silence, I,
Undaunted, rise to front oppressive gloom,
Its ogre-threatening gestures to defy;
Encouraged by the endless lack of sleep,
My broken spirit leans towards distress,
In mortal fear portending dungeons deep,
From which redemption beggars trust, no less;
Yet, deep within the soul resides a spark,
Though buffeted by life-destroying storm,
Retains its luminescence in the dark,
The embers of the faintest hope to warm;
While breathes a being on this transient earth,
Persists the prospect ever for rebirth.

©Meanderings 2017

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