Sunday Sonnet!

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Awash with mesmerising coloured lights,
Resounding with enduring festive song,
The malls of mammon, teeming with delights,
Seductive to the pleasure-seeking throng;
From babe in arms to grey-haired doddering dad,
With little or with surfeit wherewithal,
Whether in velvet or in sackcloth clad,
Perennial mystery holds all in thrall;
Yet few in faith hold feast in close embrace,
While most succumb to man’s insidious greed;
Would that good sense such madness could replace,
Then Jubilate Deum might succeed.
Prodigal grace to creatures all extends,
Pernicious recompense for none commends.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!!

🎀

As year pursues each year into old age,
Our limitations grow in limb and mind,
Sometimes with thoughts from life to disengage,
Good grace adjures, to gratitude be kind;
Delight of halcyon days in summer sun,
Distress when buffeted by winter storm,
Each gifted season proffers everyone
An opportune, their living to perform;
Some traverse rough terrain in their pursuits,
While others savour privileged advance,
All shall inherit designated fruits,
None can the fated levelling end enhance.
Though plenty pain in what is gone before,
Much more salubrious pleasure, to be sure.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

🎀

Their innocence, a gemstone of delight,
Irradiating sparkle on one’s face,
Disarming, putting woebegone to flight,
A veritable avenue of grace;
Untinted eyes perceive the extant world,
Evoking response in untainted mind,
As though it were ensign of truth unfurled,
With no intent in heart to be unkind;
Alas, the mores of culture infiltrate
Virginal thought and speech of little ones,
Instinctual honesty to dislocate,
Preventing them from being truthful scions.
Embedded in the deeper consciousness,
Resides the need to speak the truth, no less.

©Meanderings 2018

🎀

Sunday Sonnet!

🎀

Dark, dark the night when demons of despair
Besiege fast haemorrhaging halls of hope,
An innate tragic lack to be aware
Of dangers on addiction’s slippery slope,
Exacerbated plight of ignorance,
As victim struggled vainly ‘gainst the slide,
Bemoaning wretched loss of innocence,
Denuded of a personal sense of pride;
Praise be, by Grace, the worse was not to be,
For mustard seeds of faith kept hope alive,
The death of Night gave way, daylight to see,
And steely resolution hailed, ‘Survive’!
A task is ne’er complete until it’s done,
A battle never lost until it’s won.

©Meanderings 2018

🎀

Sunday Sonnet!

🎀

I cannot tell the depth of debt I owe
To hallowed architect of life, contrived,
With ne’er a mite of hope to disavow,
That all these years, by Grace, I have survived;
Not always prudent in elected path,
In innocence as much as ignorance,
Bequeathing painful scars in aftermath,
Benificence prevailed in my defence.
Grim, darker days by demons were beset,
Yet, held by loyal love of one who cared,
The halls of hope to want were never let,
Nor falls to taunts of shame were ever bared.
A grateful heart to God of Grace I raise,
With sacramental songs replete with praise.

©Meanderings 2018

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