Taps To Reveille

Resurrection chorused 

With Reveille

But first the mini death

Taps to sleep

One third of time

Apostate to the living

Two thirds 

A Requiem to slumber deep.

A Feeling

There’s a movement afoot,

Can you feel it?

A dawning, a heavenly herald,

A belief in the brotherhood

Of humanity.

It’s sweeping right over the world.

 

There’s an aura of great expectation,

Of light

To pour from above,

Like drowning

In oceans of wonder,

Suffused with unending love.

 

There’s a knowledge that’s

Patently pending,

Already it’s making its way

From nation to nation,

Through calm contemplation,

Simple souls inspired, come what may.

 

There’s a phoenix that’s forming

From ashes,

His wings are ready to fly,

Head raised aloft,

His tone one so soft

Recurring death his reason for why

 

There’s a waiting in anticipation,

Vast wings

To envelop and keep

All souls together,

To tackle whatever,

Arousing our spirits from sleep.

 

There’s a beacon that’s shed

From great lighthouse

Protecting all fleets from the reefs

Station the braces,

Let wind fill the main sail,

Make ready to fulfil beliefs.

Victory

A wee while ago there was a challenge to come up with a new form of poetry. Apparently, this counts. Alphabetise. Each letter of the alphabet used in sequence. This is my second attempt.

Arms bound,

Chained, distraught,

Emptying and

Forever guileless.

Helpless,

Injudiciously judged.

Kept low,

Morning into

Night obsolete.

Parched, now quenched,

Resurrected soul,

Torture undergone for

Victory won.

Exultant,

Yielding to zeal.