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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Sunday Sonnet!

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Effusive silence gently penetrates
Obscured recesses of receptive soul,
Her wordless eloquence regenerates,
Fatigued and brokenness to be made whole;
No need there be it’s healing to access,
With zest our puny efforts to instill,
Save patient resignation to possess,
Humility aplenty, to be still!
Fear not disruptive demons of unease
Intent on obviating wholesomeness,
Embrace of blessed quietude decrees
Assurance of her sanative caress.
Imbibe the stillness of this sacred place,
An earthbound channel of redeeming grace.

©Meanderings 2018

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Sunday Sonnet!

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Grant me the patience to constrain my tongue,
When untoward, offensive words are heard,
Intent on denigrating old by young –
Unspoken response be the best preferred;
More oft such utterance comes from baseness born,
Or springs from mindless undeveloped youth;
Are such the likes that ignorance be-spawn,
As those who peddle, shamelessly untruth?
Alas, ’tis not to age nor class confined,
For thoughtless derogation knows no bound,
Too easily with vulnerable aligned,
Yet, often in the priv’leged to be found.
Would that in kindness others we could see,
The world a healthier, happier place would be!

©Meanderings 2016

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Sunday Sonnet!

When populism stirs uninformed hearts,
Evoking deeply held unfounded fears,
Fair Reason from the Masses soon departs
Leaving a Nation’s raison d’etre in tears;
Dishonesty of intent shall emerge,
Unable, deep divisions then to mend,
Resulting, once, in Gorgon’s deathly dirge,
Against such repetition, God, defend;
Though Grace and Patience be our constant mien,
Let lessons learnt from recent painful past,
Invigorate our latent righteous spleen,
Miscarriage of true justice to recast;
Would that the hand that wrote on Shazzar’s wall
Divine hope-filled denouement for us all!

© Meanderings 2016

Sunday Sonnet!

If dark clouds herald much sought after rain,
Reflected in the barren, bone dry earth,
Not only shall relief be brought to pain
But latent life to dormant seed give birth;
For nigh two years only the dew of night
Enabled hapless fauna to survive,
But failed to waken flora to delight
Life’s downcast mood, with colour to revive;
How oft our expectations suffer such,
When promise fades within our pleading grasp;
None other can we do but at Hope clutch,
And Trust within our bosoms tightly clasp;
The voice of Mother Nature gently speaks:
Sweet Patience your attention humbly seeks!

©Meanderings 2016