A Century is a special thing
It takes time to grow
It takes time to become wise
Its head of grey
It is too aged to be young
But not too old
To revert to youthful things
Like crushed Irish Potatoes
And long forgotten diapers
That tear away at pride
A Century is often nagging
Blind or deaf … and forgetful
Its hand forgets to be forceful
But is forced to be gentle
And its hands often remember
To clasp in prayer
A Century doesn’t always remember
But its face is etched
In many tales of time
A Century is not as
Anxious to grow old as youth
But is grateful for every day allowed
To walk closer to the end of light.
– Lisa Gaye Taylor
For the new year
The old year has rescinded
With its mix of joy and pain.
There were gifts and glints of promise;
Then, ghastly acts, which ‘fanned the flames.’
Still, we are moving forward
Uninhibited and bold
Without the shackles on our minds
With faith and purpose in our hold!
No more must we turn our backs
As noxious beings, for their own pleasure,
Defile our gems of innocence;
Portals to tomorrow!
No more must we allow dim wits
To put out breathing lights
And repatriate souls, through weapons.
We must stand to set things right!
This country must not slither.
There are stalwarts on her side
Who can, and must, reclaim her;
At least to rebuild pride.
We have among us human treasures
Doing their best to lift this land;
While allowing us, ‘the others’,
Time to harness inspiration
Therefore, as the New Year ‘2020’ dawns
The questions, to ourselves, should be:
Shall we work to lift our homeland?
Or, must we strive to drag the whole contingent down,
And through the pits of decadence, and misery?
– Erica Brown Marriott
A new year
The ageless ocean inexorably voices on yonder shore
Beats the same sounds as the year before;
There is seemingly no difference;
Will there be no indication
That the new year is a better situation
Than last year?
Dark clouds glower at the earth,
Gloomily no different than a year no more;
Christmas spirit we vainly hoped would endure,
But the sun seems to gallop his usual berth,
Smiling, indifferent, warm and gay,
And streams gurgle their usual way to the sea;
Can’t they go uphill the other way
Just some hope of change for us to see
That the new year will be different from the last
And hope in God should never be lost?
Why should the future seem the same,
As it was the year before,
The only difference there will be more,
Playing at our tragic game
Of births and deaths and motor cars,
More nuclear bombs and rumbles of wars,
More houses and schools to build,
More mouths to feed and less resources to spend,
More wrongs to right and less justice to defend;
Women and children will tremble, men to fear,
More and more will be many a tear?
Will there be no relief from pain,
The whole world some sanity to gain?
Will there be more diseases to fight, fun running rampant,
More fortune to try, more prizes freely to grant,
Less labour, more dreams to win,
More discontent, less joy at the workplace,
Uncertainties galore day to day to face?
Hope is a promise,
Roses to smell and money may jingle,
And love is a ploy to make the skin tingle,
Will the new year be the same
As the previous year or better or worse,
That we must look to in chapter and verse?
Last year, seemed God on a holiday went,
Will He go on another vacation
This year as usual …
Wind up the world and leave it to spin,
Give Man more holidays to sin?
Was He deeply asleep last year,
While the world went on a raging spree?
Or did He his anger vent
On hapless Man refrained to relent?
Will He rise …
Or will he let the years get worse,
Praying Man praying to remind Him
That He has a world that’s badly run,
When men are empower’d to rule by gun?
Why is there no manifestation,
Except what is told by preaching men?
Here and now we need redemption.
– Oren Cousins