Shall I really be called to bear
The cross of toil and labour?
To spread the gospel far and near?
To proclaim it with fervour?
Then I will bear the cross gladly,
Since Jesus would do the same for me.
Shall I really be called to drink
The cup of persecution?
To love God, though earthly gain shrinks?
To serve in worse conditions?
Then I will drink the cup gladly,
Since Jesus would do the same for me.
Shall I really be called to sleep
The drearisome sleep of death?
Even till grave the faith to keep?
To lie in sheol unclothed?
Then I would go to sleep calmly,
Since Jesus would come to raise me.
She was half asleep in the auditorium
Finding this new year’s curriculum
Dreadfully burdensome and cumbersome
So altogether utterly drearisome
When all of a sudden she heard beating of a drum
And started feeling audaciously adventuresome
With an incredible urge to visit an aquarium
Or race a shopping cart through an emporium
Or follow Hansel and Gretel’s every crumb
Either way her head was filled with wild delirium
With compulsions not meant to overcome
And hankerings to live life to the maximum
Elude deplorable feelings grum or glum
By keeping cheerful and upbeat consortium
Dance through gardens of chrysanthemum
Or plant fields brimful of sublime red geranium
My heart and soul seeking invigorating equilibrium
Embrace passion in its premium platinum sensorium
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on July 13, 2018 for CONTEST NO.465 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND
Originally posted on June 9, 2018
Listening to the sounds of ghoulish frights
Six-feet deep but everything is alright
A cruel chill comes across you
Thank God for top soil….whew
From the street and morgue to the ground
How they all depart with a devilish frown
Cold, stiff, pale and unstuffed
When your soul leaves your body you don’t get up
Hard, lonely, and looking sick
Difficult to say goodbye to and missed
Your flesh is so tensed and complicated to kiss
Life, love, and longevity
Filled with embalming fluid makes you heavy
Flowers, tombstones, and much sorrow
Got to find some black to shortly borrow
A long cloudy drearisome day
Dismal, wintry, and gloomy, God don’t take me away
Death is so atrementous so nigrescent
Black roses are a dead man’s present
When that casket drops it is evident
You are no longer here you’re irrelevant
The extinct, the rested in lovely peace
Sad singing and flower bringing for the deceased
May God bless our souls all these long nights
May God rest their souls who reside at all the
Many “Grave Sights!”
Written ByA.I.R. Feb.20,2004