Sunday Sonnet!

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Beneath the shining glass domain that is,
Apparent for external world to see,
Broods steadily an ocean of unease,
Creative gifts awaiting to be free;
The tension midst the known and the unknown,
Humility and openness can breach,
Then wholeness and completeness can be grown,
And one cannot the other e’er impeach;
Vain ego needs the inner self engage,
The hidden gifts of nature to explore,
No better way to dissipate all rage,
Than wholesome conjunct selfhood to adore.
Let pride and self-conceit surrender arms,
Embrace new disposition laced with charms!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Confronted by steep hills say not, I can’t,
Unless you know what lies within your means,
An insight which, to mortals, most, is scant,
For who can tell what lurks within the genes?
‘Impossible’ can maim the boldest heart,
Reducing what ‘can be’ to ‘cannot be’,
From thence, hopes, instantaneously depart,
Disabling human spirits to be free;
The blackbird renders fulsome morning song,
A gift by Mother Nature well endowed,
The blossom blooms itself among the throng,
Existence raison d’etre is thus avowed;
Engender in all beings self-belief,
Life cannot have a better leitmotif!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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While walking on a lonely sandy beach,
Deserted, but for wavelets at my feet,
A gently rolling object, within reach,
For fleeting moment stopped, as though to greet;
It seemed the wavelets paused a little while,
Attention of my spirit to arrest,
Unconsciously, I stopped and flashed a smile,
Which to an innate pleasure did attest;
From whence came such delight I cannot tell,
Though that it did, I never can deny,
From deep within unconsciousness upwell,
Its authenticity let none decry;
Such mystic moments reverie surprise,
Not often, nor so easy to reprise!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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How can one know what ails the broken heart,
Or fathom what disturbs the downcast soul?
Wherever does faint comprehension start,
Assistance for the sufferer to enrol?
Appearances so often can belie
A hapless disposition, deep inside;
Unlike the plaster on a fractured thigh,
Alas, from all and sundry none can hide;
Compassion readily responds to seen,
While blinded to unnoticeable pain,
Sequential, thus, to rueful ‘might have been’,
Instead of wholesome healing to regain;
Physician malady can never heal,
Unless I, to him, festering wound reveal!

©Meanderings 2017

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