Down-down-deep, my heart
A well of gratitude springs forth.
Ancient and modern king
Thank you for my life.
Thunder strikes, the heaven’s roars
Moon blackens, the earth quakes
Royal horses gallops and strong kings falls off their horseback
Lord Almighty, thank you for my life
Demons are your prisoners.
Angels in splendor serves you.
Heaven is yours, earth too.
Mystery and web of mysteries
How many mysteries have you Lord?
Thank you for my life
Ugwu David C.
©2023
Gratitude Brings Abundance
Thankfulness multiples in your attitude as you do it.
It also opens you up to blessings and favours.
We thank God for the gift of salvation, for family, friends and the tiniest blessing we experience. (Psalms 107:21-22, Ephesians 5:18-20, Philippians 4:6-7, Jonah 2:9)
I lost balance while walking down the aisle of thanksgiving,
I slipped over my challenges, fell and twisted my ankle
I immediately lost consciousness and was rushed to the clinic by an Uncle
At the clinic, I was examined and tested,
“There is something wrong with your heart that needs to be corrected”
the Doctor said
“It is a problem of ingratitude” he continued
“Alas! this malady has been attested” I muttered in pain.
“Clement, your gratitude to God shouldn’t be based on good events and
happy moments. Your gratitude should remain even when there is a
defiant opponent” he concluded , examined me again and left the ward.
Princess Pirinye
©2021
Without the stars appearing on a special
Night, the Angels singing sweet solemn innocent
Tones, jingles, praises to the mean
World that has seen eons
Of pains, love, gratitude, rejections that overwhelmed
Beauties and ugliness we see as tittle and nominal
I wish to be etched in your heart not as a nominal
Singer, but the beat you call special
The sound that leaves you overwhelmed
Our eyes a spark note of innocent
Thoughts that deified us eons
And mortals who are not mean
Men whose inclinations are mean
Can’t even have us as nominal
gods, but great fellows who are eons
Away from their realms. The one they’d call special
Species of rare grace; innocent
Warriors whose tales gets them overwhelmed
Though life may try to get us overwhelmed
It will never make us mean
Or rid us of the innocent
Company of the earthlight that is not nominal
Or make the moonlight serenade less special
Though it has romanced spirits for eons.
We seem to be overrated eons;
Cowered, callously, carefully overwhelmed
Lovely, little, lowly beings called special
Lower than the angels’ mean
Myrmidons, to the paladin nominal
Praying to be seen as innocent
But words cannot be innocent
We are actually eons
Beings that can never be nominal
Beings grave, gentle griefs overwhelmed
In their search of mean
Means of becoming special
To be as innocent as saint Simeon
The special eon that dwells
In this mean tent.
Simeon Chidi
©2019
Christ a poet 