As illness spread across the land, and our lives began to spiral,
A Captain and his charitable plan was a tale that soon went viral.
A centenarian walking laps, distracted us from Covid stats and charts,
And the route he took around his home led him straight into our hearts.
As we battled with the virus, he evoked the fighting spirit of another time,
An avuncular figure bringing comfort to the nation, a gentleman sublime.
His grit and humour in the face of adversity, filled us all with admiration,
And as the funds began to grow, he seized the collective imagination.
He was filled with joy and love, and living in the moment was his aim,
He took his achievements in his stride, awed and delighted by his fame.
When life was at his grimmest, his words of strength helped us to survive,
His sunny disposition broke through the dark clouds, keeping hope alive.
Now, as we gather to give thanks for him, we recall his words of wisdom and we pray,
“That we shall get through this, things will get better and tomorrow will be a good day”.
Categories:
grimmest, love,
Form: Rhyme
Having succumbed to suicidal insouciance,
From which mellifluous melted words dripped,
She fought the nemesis of the inner annoyance,
Who beleaguered her with languishing lips.
The lithe lips whose fingers scratched labyrinthian letters,
Upon parchment paper with opulent serendipity,
Ever flowing in metric harmony by her gossamer tethers,
Of her susurrous voice that echoed from cerebral captivity.
Such dalliance in the days in which she sung,
Erstwhile her evanescence breathed harbingers of art,
Whilst lassitude disentangled the scrummage she strung,
In time's spun web of temporal tricks to either end or start.
May your words resound in palimpsest,
And across them may there grow,
A cynosure of eyes to hide the grimmest,
Of morose inure from whence you've known.
If time could send me back to when,
You opened up the sepulcher in your oven,
I'd make sure to take and tell you then,
Let's make, instead of head, some lemon muffins.
Categories:
grimmest, death, dedication, poets,
Form: Rhyme
We live in a world shaped into an
inverted pyramid.
A world where wrong is painted true
And evil is displayed as the greatest
good,
It’s a world at the very brink of
insanity.
A world so tough, for those whose
garments are white, to bear with
And it is so effortless to get stained
with the nearby oily hands.
Hands whose ways are so repulsive
and thoughts ill at ease
Even to those dwelling in skin the
same.
These are people whose frames are
frail and prone to fail.
People so hard to control and are
drawn to what they can smell.
They usually live for the moments
and don’t consider the effects.
Winked at and rejected by the few
ones sane.
Yet, he whose name is holy loves
them so much.
He waits patiently, winks at all their
errors
And welcomes them; even those
with the grimmest garments.
Such level of love my brain is yet to
comprehend much
Categories:
grimmest, absence
Form: Quatrain