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Sunday Sonnet!

 

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‘Tis reassuring, most, to be aware
Of living in the ambit of God’s Grace,
Each moment that I pause to stand and stare,
Into the vast expanse of boundless space;
Then fills exultant robin tranquil air
With dulcet song, the coldest heart to warm,
Its tiny life embraced within the Care
Of Him, for whom all goodness is the norm.
From boundless sky to ocean, bottomless,
Station or stature, creature counts for naught,
Accessing Godhead’s goodwill limitless,
Save what through humble, patient trust is sought.
Seek not the morrow’s blessings e’er to see,
For all we know, the best is yet to be!

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Do not the lack of sunshine e’er lament,
When pregnant clouds their bounty on earth shed,
Such blessings for our well-being are meant,
Extol with thankfulness the gift instead;
Untended go the prayers for rain elsewhere,
As parched and famished creatures, young and old,
With yearning eyes into the morrow stare,
Expectant, but of suffering untold;
Forever in the human mind persists,
Ambivalence of what is bad or good,
In heart of Mother Nature none exists,
Fostering in all a sense of brotherhood;
Prosperity bespeaks a word of thanks,
Adversity among the noble ranks.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Nurtured on a staple diet of lies,
Impervious to persuasive voice of truth,
Disabled Reason fails to recognise
Formation of insensate future youth;
Unblemished blood coursing through tainted veins
Cannot but taint each organ that it feeds,
Thus Truth, which our integrity sustains,
Deforms in mind that evil discord breeds;
Can Truth her pristine beauty e’er regain
After she had so rudely been defaced?
Good Grace essential nature shall retain –
Is Darkest Night not by New Day replaced?
Humanity presumes to govern all,
Crafting thereby the blueprint of its fall.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Outside the camp their villains crucified,
A fitting end who patronage disdain,
No matter gold with dross identified,
Stigma of vile rejection shall remain;
Offenders with Offenceless, side by side,
Hang eerily against a darkening sky,
While Grace supremely reigns, to none denied,
The world of mourners seems to go awry;
Sad followers in desolation leave,
Save huddled group at foot of central tree,
The passing of Beloved One to grieve,
Unmindful that His passing sets them free.
Inside the camp hypocrisy persists,
Where naked compromise of truth exists.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Benedictions in my life abound,
Bestowed, unearned, by gen’rous Grace Divine,
Yet, fear-filled thoughts my trust in Him confound,
Preventing would and would-not to align;
As though in constant conflict they engage,
Stalwarts of Doubt and Faith heave to and fro;
Instead of seeking suffering to assuage,
They seem to thrive on propagating woe;
Can Hope, so deeply rooted in the heart,
Restore semblance of sanity in mind,
Lest vestiges of trust from me depart,
Phantoms of emptiness be left behind?
Recount your benedictions giving thanks,
As curative, it as the premier ranks.

©Meanderings 2018

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