Details |
Maurice Sassoon Poem
What good is a heart
With no chamber of love,
Or heaven, in fact,
Without God above.
How worthy is a soul
That has not in it
The spark that ignites
A warm, kindly spirit.
How sound is a mind
That reasons not well,
Confined in a vacuum
Within its own shell.
All three, undoubtedly --
Heart, soul and mind --
Can get us ahead,
Or leave us behind.bbb
Copyright © Maurice Sassoon | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Maurice Sassoon Poem
Far better than minerals gotten
Out of the depths of the earth,
Or jewels of regal splendor
And ostentatious birth
Is the singular role of a mother;
Indeed, there isn't another
Of distinctly nobler worth.
She scatters the seeds of gladness
With those of pain and sorrow,
In the fields of her fertile existence
For tender shoots of tomorrow;
There's nothing she wouldn't dare
To justify her care;
She'd even beg or borrow.
She gathers a bounteous harvest --
An outcome of courage and skill,
Through seasons of trials and errors
That never could smother her will;
A beacon in the overall plan,
She illumines the pathway of man --
A duty she's glad to fulfill.
Copyright © Maurice Sassoon | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Maurice Sassoon Poem
The fragile span of Memory's bridge,
Through Life's most unexpected phase,
In a bitter spell of mental chill
Soon disappears in swirls of haze,
The crossing between now and then
Being lost in Time's cerebral maze.
There loom the hunting fields of years,
No matter what the numbers be,
Across which stalks in silence grave,
Alzheimer, subtle, wild and free,
Cold and totally unsparing --
A terrible blight on Memory!
While subtly through Life's precious core,
Extinguishing its dimmest light,
It bores but deeper until soon,
Evening shadows out of sight,
Merge with all the horrors of
The empty darkness of the night.
Copyright © Maurice Sassoon | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Maurice Sassoon Poem
The sky has wiped its slate,
Obscure but almost white,
With Dawn emerging coyly,
Casting her soft light
Upon the gracious charm
Of Nature in full view,
Calling it so vibrantly,
Tenderly and true.
Soon, ere the rising sun,
Exacting but sublime,
Must take full measure of
The brevity of Time,
Dawn gracefully advances
With certainty reborn,
Straight up the traveled path
Of Time to meet the Morn.
And like the glib recital
Of an all-too-famous rhyme,
She soon returns but softly
And daintily in time.
Copyright © Maurice Sassoon | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Maurice Sassoon Poem
It doesn't matter how so plain
Or rough the crust may be,
The kernel is what truly counts --
The part we cannot see.
A piece of land perceived as good
And ripe for human toil
May yet prove unproductive
Without the proper soil.
Can we appraise the saber
While still within its sheath,
Or comprehend the ocean
Unless we look beneath?
The sights we often fail to see
And thoughtlessly pass by
May yet be those that satisfy
The palate, not the eye.
Copyright © Maurice Sassoon | Year Posted 2006
|
Details |
Maurice Sassoon Poem
Truth is like an open road;
No traveler is misled
By signals he must follow
To safely forge ahead,
Cautioning him to slow down,
Stop or move with care;
Not to recklessly proceed
At speeds of grave despair.
Well should he negotiate
Curves of disbelief,
Crooked bends and hazards
Of unrelenting grief.
Alll signals and all signs of
Truth can never ever fail
When life is steered directly
Along its safety trail.
Copyright © Maurice Sassoon | Year Posted 2006
|