Literary Yard

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‘Sweet Rest’ and other poems

By: @stephenolaoke_


Sitting without a pen in hand,
Memories, emotions, all coming to play,
I feel my skin gently press against the sand,
As before my eyes all things lay,

Clear as the day,
Spent in the night,
Hidden among the melody stay,
Carved out of sight,

It shan’t be for a riddle,
Only to be to the weary traveler a song,
And perhaps he’s got a tuned fiddle,
On which he can play along,

Clearer than light to the eyes,
Finer than peace to the soul,
True melody hid beyond the skies,
It’s chorus pointing to the goal,

Sing the symphony,
Tell of the land of the blest,
Echo in the melody,
Tell of sweetest rest.


What if the whole world knows my plight?
Would any dare help join the fight?
Or would they sit up to enjoy the sight?
Here, here comes the night,

Strength and grace debate,
Their blessings hid in many a fate,
Learning from the dreadful peace I’ve experienced of late,
No one cares, feast from your plate,

Take the missive sealed with tears,
For the lad has had many fears,
Soon his awaited Calvary appears,
To preach hope into his tiny ears,

And the lad will live again!
Void of his every terror and pain,
And the hurt, he’ll never suffer in vain,
He’ll thrive, basking in the gain.

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