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THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FEAST
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FEAST
Approaching feast, your night before is great.
We expect all the pleasure we await.
You are not born, so you can't go so soon.
We dream of your nice pleasure and your boon.
You are the day on which we all are thrilled
and have the meals we love where cooks are skilled.
We meet the girls whose eyes are full of love,
but coy to say what they ask from above.
How great is life when we look forward to
the sparks of joy that fill the coming view.
We wait for what can fill the heart with life
as all the prospects are with joy so rife.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________________________________
Approaching feast, your night before is great.
We expect all the pleasure we await.
You are not born, so you can't go so soon.
We dream of your nice pleasure and your boon.
You are the day on which we all are thrilled
and have the meals we love where cooks are skilled.
We meet the girls whose eyes are full of love,
but coy to say what they ask from above.
How great is life when we look forward to
the sparks of joy that fill the coming view.
We wait for what can fill the heart with life
as all the prospects are with joy so rife.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________________________________
Published 3rd Jan 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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I think you'll find that this one contains rhyme that is not forced and which are focused on helping a line to make sense rather than to insure that its lines end with words that rhyme with the words that end other lines.
I want to write some verse
about a sumptuous saintly feast
and how it, at the very least,
has promise to delight our souls
with mirth and glee once it arrives.
For now though, it can only be
a thing that thrives
in our imaginations, since it’s clear
it won’t be here until tomorrow dawns
and comes alive.
.
Today, you see,
is only its portending eve.
But even it is full of sly
and gifted bright anticipation, yes,
because it becks itself to us
and us to it,
just like lone stars within wild skies.
I want to write some verse
about a sumptuous saintly feast
and how it, at the very least,
has promise to delight our souls
with mirth and glee once it arrives.
For now though, it can only be
a thing that thrives
in our imaginations, since it’s clear
it won’t be here until tomorrow dawns
and comes alive.
.
Today, you see,
is only its portending eve.
But even it is full of sly
and gifted bright anticipation, yes,
because it becks itself to us
and us to it,
just like lone stars within wild skies.
