Sunday Sonnet!

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When comes the day that Fate declines to smile,
On falsehoods peddled with impunity,
Intent, unwary nation to beguile,
Who, then, shall bear responsibility?
The raucous harbinger of self-import –
Whose savvy ventures not beyond the tweet,
Or, meekly looking on without retort,
Obsequious, gutless minions of conceit?
Rest not at ease vile harbinger of lies,
Nor acquiescent guardians to their shame,
They be in close collusion, these allies,
Justice decrees that both shall be to blame.
As sure as day succeeds the darkest night,
None shall avoid their much deserved plight!

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Let not concern for what is yet to be,
Despoil the even tenor of your way,
For no one can beyond the present see,
As all must needs await the morrow’s day;
Insomnia feeds off disquiet soul,
Affecting disposition overall,
Until masters of reason lose control,
Hurtling headlong into a fatal fall;
Be mindful of the Easter Dawn of hope,
As vernal blossoms countryside adorn,
Regenerated faith with doubt shall cope,
When positive perception is reborn.
Let constant trust in goodness e’er reside,
That grace for all tomorrows shall provide.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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As though in rhythmic tune with breeze they danced,
Bright faces smiling gaily as they swayed,
Recalling thought of erstwhile spring romance,
When young hearts went a-walking one fine day;
Beneath a cloudless cerulean sky,
A gentle zephyr kissed enchanting blooms,
As hand in hand young lovers walked nearby,
While whispered speech their precious time consumes;
In earnestness they solemnly avowed
Their loyalty into eternity;
Misfortune would their destiny becloud,
Fruition of their dreams was not to be.
Idyllic plans for future oft are made,
Then by reality to be betrayed!

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Would that the powers of redeeming Grace
Disarm the haunting denizens of doubt,
Intent on mien of Goodness to displace,
That tentacles of harmful thought may sprout;
Would that the ambience of pax sublime
Subsume disabling spectres of despair,
Then shall be born a healing paradigm,
The fall-out of trust, broken, to repair.
Sweet Patience in soft, reassuring tone,
Apprised, fret not if time should tarry long,
We never stand entirely alone,
Persistence urges always to be strong.
Hope sallies forth its confidence to tell,
That manner of all matters shall be well.

©Meanderings 2018

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