Constellation patterns of the year to be
are playing peek-a-boo behind the shroud
prepared for wake of two-thousand fourteen.
This dreaded year that made the serpent proud
when xenophobics from the past is free
with polished boots, to challenge what’s allowed.
Oh year to come, why don’t you show yourself?
Come show your face before the clocks strike twelve.
We’re busy digging trenches once again,
we’ve ceased to care for world’s all Tiny Tims.
When razor-wire shadows hides the pains,
from battlefields with barely buried limbs.
When doves are crying threnodies in vain,
Will newborn year to come be just as grim?
My heart is beating and from deep within,
a hope still lingers — we may stop the sins.
So please my friend let ghosts of Marley speak;
let Christmas be the time to truly change;
and silence Ebeneezer’s mean critique,
come share the joyful songs; come let’s exchange,
a vow to make the future bright, not bleak.
Cause what is different are rarely strange.
The world can be a better place today
if we just join, from Stockholm to Bombay.
Today it’s the last Open Link of 2014 at dVerse. I thought I try my hands at an Ottava Rima, looking back and hope we can change like Scrooge once did.