Garlands
Who is in the mirror to see the face
emblazoned on my memory today
as yesterday meets today face-to-face
to reconcile history’s flaw by the way
of nature’s good inspired by endless grace
before faces with garlands of sweet bay
extolled for acts of poetry on life’s race
reflecting on life’s mirror day by day.
The face in the mirror has swollen eyes
on a head above the shoulder of pain
carrying a burden without a prize
seen in the mirror as gifts for the eyes
for tongues to sing and ears to hear of
gain
in figures of quality above size.
Resuscitation
The price of excellence is not the prize
shining more than gold under the sun’s
ray;
it’s not in the dimensions of the size
of work written in words that speak and
pray
for the end of cov-19 whose one prize
is the destruction of the world by day;
health’s resuscitation against night’s
vice
before the entrapment of prize one day.
The sun and the moon shine against the
gloom
hidden around the walls of the whole world
where to live is to be around the edge
and to rise above the snares of world doom
is not what passing feeling and a word
can make the world not to be on edge.
Fecundity
The prize of living lies in-between birth
through the cradle and not mortality
which opens the floodgates of joyous mirth
in this life and in immortality.
Life flows like the ceaseless flow of
firth
into a river of fertility
where the end meets the beginning in
birth.
The glory of human fecundity
is praised on the altar of human love
which no drop of ink can show its
splendour
through all the world of human words and
grace
because the love of Adam is God’s love
shown in human faith lost in love’s
candour
if not vanity will be of life’s race.
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