Sunday Sonnet!

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‘A little while and pain shall be no more,’
The still, small voice within me reassured;
Affliction wracked my being to the core,
Though signing not, ‘How much to be endured’;
Attended lovingly by caring hands,
The touch of which imbues internal toil
With hope, perdurable, that ne’er disbands,
So deeply rooted in the soul’s subsoil;
His quivering voice, adorned by faintest smile,
Bestirred the innards of a grateful heart;
Can mortal man survive such searing trial,
Enough to rent most powerful apart?
Belief translates impossible to be
A miracle for family to see!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

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When we meander through our memories field,
Where shall we with capacious harvest start?
Which shall for us more wholesome profit yield,
Red, luscious cherries, sweet, or berries, tart?
Have we the joy to opt for either, or,
When, mindful of abundant fruits, we are
Confronted by the choice of neither, nor,
Firmly embedded like a fallen star?
All these are those whose provenance we share,
And for whose nurture we take full account,
How can we differentiation dare,
And not vain partiality surmount?
Regardless of their diverse quality,
Mem’ries embrace with equanimity!

©Meanderings 2017

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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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