Sunday Sonnet!

 

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Loud effervescent outbursts of delight
Erupt, when entertained by trumpery,
When sense from nonsense flees like day from night,
Clear testament of human tragedy;
Beguiled by twittered galleons of fake news,
Frail vessels of fine truth cannot withstand
Relentless onslaught of contorted views,
Unless defence of Truth be better manned;
Though quills their thrust of influence may yield,
Ostensibly, to senseless blathering,
Yet, in the end, great power shall they wield,
When bells of verity again shall ring.
No greater moral posture can there be
Than unaffected, frank, integrity!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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He sat, distraught, upon the broken bench,
A dark cloud, fast approaching from the east,
Behind his back a wreck dispensed its stench,
While at his feet lie shattered dreams, deceased.
But yesterday, he saw a fresh new dawn,
Yet flames of cruel misfortune intervened
To leave today and future naked, shorn,
A mass of diverse human lives demeaned.
Alas! Within the quagmire of distress,
Compassion sounds the clarion call of hope,
Largesse, response of human kindliness,
Providing all necessities to cope.
Out of the ashes of despairing pain,
Phoenix of Will to Live will rise again!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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I ask not for the wherewithal to be
Within the transient corridors of gain,
Where greed corrodes all human dignity,
The soul of whom it ever can retain;
Denuded of his precious self-respect,
The captive to vain avarice succumbs,
His passage to perdition slides unchecked,
His epitaph nonentity becomes;
Much rather self-destructive quests forsake,
The more enduring values to preserve;
Do not the route to excess undertake,
And balance of the greater good unnerve!
Sufficiency sustains diurnal need,
A building block in every wholesome creed!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet

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Leave not to Chance whatever is to be,
Like devastated gambler left forlorn,
Or someone who succumbs to destiny,
To elements exposed like sheep late shorn;
Though Future never fully can be known,
Save by the Might within whose Hand it lies,
The seed of Hope within each soul is sown,
The fruit of which predictions oft defies;
Slide not into the quicksand of despair,
When untowards life’s passage overrun,
Stay anchored to the paragon of care,
Whose constancy can never be undone;
Leave not to Chance whatever is to be,
Let Love provide aegis for you and me!

©Meanderings 2017

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