If one wants to pass the test,
Then he should perform his best.
R-egards
H-ave
I-mplemented
A-nother
N-atal
N-ote
E-mploying
H-eartfelt
A-crostic
B-y
L-aborious
A-uthor
Topic: Birthday of Rhianne B. Habla (November 19)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Is this what you call a labored love,
When I love you, yet question our strength,
It seems I'm plagued by another,
Who I'll call my lover,
Although with him I've never been,
A corrupt fate, an outright tragedy,
Is a heart with not one love, but two,
How shall I share but a part,
Of my beating heart,
And what of this me and you
She was sixteen, young, beautiful, friendly, with a kind heart.
She had no idea why she was dragged from her home in the middle of the night by the Christians.
Her accuser was protected, safely hidden from suspicion,
Because she had named her best friend after a laborious inquisition.
Kill her!
Flog her!
They yelled.
Many old, angry, with ugly lives unhappily lived.
Her beauty angered them.
She was pronounced innocent after her drowning.
Happy, the Christians went away to collect another unjustly accused.
The others paralyzed by fear
began to church.
C-arry the laborious load,
A-s you fulfill your function;
T-wentieth of January,
A-im to have determination.
L-aborious load set by God
I-s comforting to complete,
N-o reason to hold it off
A-nd stop from doing it.
B-egin to keep the laborious load,
U-sing faith, hope, and love;
L-et your life reach your goal,
A-s expected by God above.
R-emain inside the flock,
A-way from the wrong road;
N-ever cease your constant work of lifting your laborious load.
Labor-painted lines on your hands
Heat- bleached your shiny strands
Mud added deeper color to your brand
Your adornments are dusts of the ground.
Skin piled up that made your hands rough.
Covered them and made them thick and tough.
Nail had grown to give a better grasp
To whatever you aim to feel and touch.
Wrinkled palms yet I still long its caress.
Soothe the cracks that this soul hardly bears.
Holds my head up when I’m bowing with fears.
Pulling me through the darkness of my twenty one years.
Yet when the poisonous blood entered its veins,
The strength and might were all been eaten.
Creating a space of life and death in between
And made your laborious hands weak and trembling.
LABORIOUS LABYRINTH OF LOVE
Love must be complementing
It’s not a “tug of war”
That each side, end of the rope going against each other,
Instead of complete understanding
Not of a perplexing or confusing…laborious labyrinth of love.
Wherein the center, there is a gravitational force!
At any rate, even the wisest war tactician fails
If not possessed with solid know-how, diplomacy and good judgment
Lovers or protagonists must sit conform to each other.
They give and take
Study the problem
Solve the problem and not attacking
And not a squid or guerilla tactics or hide and seek process
But to a sharp contrast: to success
Rather than to a laborious labyrinth of love!
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