Tag Archives: thoughts

Sunday Sonnet!

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When in the quiet of my solitude,
Unshackled thoughts take flight to sites unknown,
No challenge can their energy denude,
Nor have they qualms wherever they are blown;
Such gay abandon bouys their boundless joy,
Like fearless birds of prey out on the wing;
None can their appetite for fun destroy,
Or prematurely shall them homeward bring;
Yet, when their haring spirits are well spent,
And flagging gaiety shall be no more,
Then rootedness to longing shall give vent,
Contentment to the reverie restore.
Breached reservoir of creativity,
Allows unbridled giftedness to be!

©Meanderings 2017

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Sunday Sonnet!

Home Front (WP)

He sits in stillness, somnolent, and stares
Into the setting sun’s declining rays,
Divested from the day’s disabling cares,
The breathless air an inner calm conveys;
Upon the gentle, rocking, rippling, waves,
Serene seagulls submit to Neptune’s charms,
Whose guile the hapless fisherman enslaves,
Or victims of outrageous storms embalms;
Thus be the course of floating ship of thought,
Unanchored, at behest of lilting breeze,
Effectuating consequences unsought,
To leave mere mortal man wonder with ease;
Convergence of the setting sun and sea,
Precipitates relaxing reverie.

©Meanderings 2016

Septolet #5

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Thoughts,
Uninvited, Uncensored,
Often cunningly insidious,
Invade uninformed minds –

Usually,
Detrimental,
To the thinkers!

©Meanderings 2016

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A to Z Challenge – Oaks!

Oaks,
Monstrous,
In due course,
From acorns grow,
Thus can small thoughts yield momentous events!

©Meanderings 2016

The Madman….A Lesson!

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It was in the garden of a madhouse that I met a youth with a face pale and lovely and full of wonder. And I sat beside him upon the bench, and I said, “Why are you here?”

And he looked at me in astonishment, and he said, “It is an unseemly question, yet I will answer you. My father would make of me a reproduction of himself; so also would my uncle. My mother would have me the image of her seafaring husband as the perfect example for me to follow. My brother thinks I should be like him, a fine athlete.

“And my teachers also, the doctor of philosophy, and the music-master, and the logician, they too were determined, and each would have me but a reflection of his own face in a mirror.

“Therefore I came to this place. I find it more sane here. At least, I can be myself.”

Then of a sudden he turned to me and he said, “But tell me, were you also driven to this place by education and good counsel?”

And I answered, “No, I am a visitor.”

And he answered, “Oh, you are one of those who live in the madhouse on the other side of the wall.”

(Kahlil Gibran: The Wanderer)

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