Praise the Almighty Lord: A Villanelle (Hour Twenty-Four)

All praise to the Almighty Lord.

Devout, undevout, rich and poor,

His every subject He does reward.

 

His benevolent actions have always struck a chord,

Eventually, dues are settled, of this God makes sure.

All praise to the Almighty Lord.

 

Across time and space, every organism, plant and rod,

His infinite grace falls on them all yet again once more.

His every subject He does reward.

 

Our every action He does record,

only to see whether our heart stays pure.

All praise to the Almighty Lord.

 

Even sins He erases from your board,

if you truly repent what you did before.

His every subject He does reward.

 

Though non-believers may use their sword,

for impossible problems, He has a miraculous cure,

All praise to the Almighty Lord.

His every subject He does reward.

Women are Genuine: An Iroha Mojigusari (Hour Twenty-Three)

A perfect girl I fell in love with that day, she rejected me by saying that she was a sad walking tomb.

Cute pets helped me overcome my sorrow as I returned home and they were happily fed.

Eager for my return, I remember or more correctly, starved of

gruel, I saw my pets waiting by the door that night. Switching off my torch,

I settled in after a warm bath and change of clothes, fed the puppies as I told you before and ordered food from Taj.

Killing time till my food arrived, I switched on the television in my room, only to find myself helplessly and respectfully drool.

My eyes sight the same girl from earlier that afternoon.

Obviously, she pretended to put off any perverted tramp.

Quite bubbly, effervescent, mature, pulchritudinous and genuine she truly was, indeed she had been a brilliant and dedicated actor.

She had to pull her act on me too, this was not a reflection on me but rather on the society in which we lived, yet that did cause me a little hurt.

Ultimately, long poem short, wish me Mazeltov.

Worthwhile was all the hurt as I proved myself to her and today, as we unite for eternity, I will put a ring on her phalanx.

Yes, women do sometimes behave strange but that is a just a reaction to all the cheap men who do fake razzmatazz.

 

 

The Promised Dawn (Prompt Twenty, Hour Twenty)

It is pitch dark outside,

except for the lamp at my bedside.

A novel poem experience, rejuvenating.

Warmed by everyone’s thoughts, illuminating.

And although it has been a long day,

we strived and kept indolence at bay.

For generations later would look upon,

And we must work to give them the promised dawn.

 

This proved to be a day to remember,

lifelong for all members.

Let the embers set alight this day,

guide you along your destined way.

Eventually no matter what the final outcome,

let our lives be a source for inspiration wholesome.

For generations later would look upon,

And we must work to give them the promised dawn.

 

Sleep already beckons me so,

I must complete my task though.

And we shall soon meet again,

under moonbeams amidst showers of rain.

In luscious green fields with abundant grain.

Through our efforts, peace shall reign.

For generations later would look upon,

And we must work to give them the promised dawn.

The Braces Story: A Humorous Diminishing Verse (Hour Seventeen)

When prospective brides hunt for a groom suitable,

they ignore his presence and everything else he brings to the table.

For his smile reveals his misaligned teeth rendering him not able

to speak with confidence. He only pays the bill.

 

To enable him to pursue the woman of his dreams, he went in for braces,

however, for the subsequent iron teeth jokes, he did not himself brace.

Irony apart, words flowed and he did get himself into the race,

The path to his beloved’s heart, he definitely did ace.

 

They made a lovely family and for years after their marriage,

they served as each other’s bedrock.

Finally on the promise that he would not rage,

his wife confessed she had loved him almost as long as her age,

but her family had opposed him as they felt that he was dumb as a rock.

My Lord’s Grace: A Golden Shovel (Hour Sixteen)

(With A Line From WHEN I CONSIDER HOW MY LIGHT IS SPENT BY JOHN MILTON On His Blindness)

I sacrificed and did my best but that was not enough for them as they

wanted me to also do the work of all the rest. “Why must I do that also?”,

I wondered to myself. As if this was not unfair enough, they wanted me to serve

whole-heartedly and be grateful to them for giving me this opportunity, to them who

exploited me thus. I could think of nothing else but only

to hit back with equal vengeance. But my faith made me stand

for I realised that this is my own Lord’s grace. For only he can bless his subjects thus, he chose me now for I am more capable and tolerant than my tormentors and

I forgave my trespassers and did my duty joyfully. In the light of divine blessings, all pains ceased. Now, for his mercy I wait.

A Bus Ride Cut Short (Hour Fifteen)

A newly hatched bird, I believed I belonged to this herd,

Unbridled youth, I did not know untruth.

It would be a torturous path, I read,

I never heard a word they said.

 

Took my seat beside my fellow traveller,

Along with the others, he turned out to be a violator.

I shriek, plead, beg and bargain,

But all my words went down the drain.

 

I would never mean anything anymore.

They had silenced my deafening roar,

On my blooming youth, they did acid pour,

For them, extinguishing my light was just a chore.

 

Broken, battered, depressed and empty,

I was killed by the time I was twenty.

It was all supposed to be my fault,

I was supposed to be responsible for their assault.

 

Alone, I resolved to resume my lonely journey,

They will never again bring me to my knee.

Plenty of obstacles, progress was demotivatingly slow,

Without a helping hand, life had lost it’s glow.

 

My mind became the devil’s hold,

every experience left me cold.

I struggled and failed to find even a little inch for my soul,

where I could heal and become like the me of old.

 

I macerated and incinerated

my seat in that wretched coach, finally I could feel warmth approach.

Crocodile tears were shed,

about a proposed lost promising tomorrow, which was supposedly mine to borrow,

had I stuck around some more with them, to alight at the final stop like a well-polished gem.

My return is what they beseeched but now I was beyond their harm’s reach.

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