Sunday Sonnet!

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Distressed, when we have done with good intent
Impacts upon our bodies with fatigue,
Though we decline from busyness relent,
And take no mean exception to critique;
Entrapped by trivial thoughts that cause concern,
Diurnal or nocturnal time, no rest,
Leaves little space for good sense to discern
The underlying troubler to divest;
Fret not about the morrow’s unknown course,
Nor harbour in your mind distracting thoughts,
The aftermath just fills one with remorse
As one regrets the many musts and oughts;
Good counsel, free, for all the world to see,
Two keys to life, serene, ‘Let Go’, ‘Let Be’.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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As pass the years of doing this and that,
Oft driven by obsessive need to please
Unruly passions, ending in regret,
Mere mortals, so the lord of life decrees,
Need not be caught up in the rodent race,
Learn lesson that appears in elder age,
To hasten slowly at a measured pace,
Receding strength of talents to engage;
Too often, much too late, we soldier on,
Ignoring counsel of the inner voice,
Until affliction’s dissonance is born,
Rendering our pride with little or no choice.
Humility our shortcomings to see,
Enables graceful future well to be.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Soft, gentle silence of the evening breeze,
Enhanced by intermittent blackbird’s call,
Induces sense of soporific ease,
Without the need for sunset ethanol;
Fraught day’s demands have left spirit well spent,
Surviving cutting edge of tempers frayed,
Despite appeals that reason should relent,
Lest untoward demeanour be displayed;
Rail passage cancellations morn and eve,
Arrivals late for work or not at all,
Rewarded everyone with much to grieve,
Not least with foul behaviour that appal;
Sweet stillness of relaxing garden air,
Restores one’s sanity in leisure chair.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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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

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Sunday Sonnet!

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In desolation of the darkest night,
Attended by the emptiness of hope,
When solace harbingers have taken flight,
How are forsaken creatures meant to cope?
I passed a homeless lady on my walk,
Along the seaside promenade she sat,
Forlorn, on bench, inclined with none to talk,
Must shelter be her fated habitat?
Surrounded by her meager earthly wares,
Exposed to whims of Nature’s weather gods,
Will someone ever deign to tend her cares,
Perchance, among her fellow human bods?
What hankers in her soul no one can tell,
My heart bleeds prayers her future to be well!

©Meanderings 2018

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