THE GIANT PEN ANTHOLOGY 208
THE BAD DAYS
And strange blood filled the
Earth where we drink white
Waters, nothing speaks well
Of peace, the bad days is come.
Days that can’t be predicted_
but comes with tears and ill luck
Days with pains that echoes in the heart
Frivolous days with enormous frivolities.
©MAN OF SAPIENCE®
The days of trouble,
The days of pain.
Even in my trail,
As the smokes fade
So do my smile goes with it
With sorrowful heart,
I sink down to weep.
Bad days teach us the definition of life;
Not everyday promises the best,
After rejoicing be ready to sorrow,
And after grief definitely it’s merry!
The times face frown the most
Frustrations affect the children.
Nothing works out as thought,
No happiness, bad days are come.
memories of my infamies
flashbacks over the wings of my surveyed days
whence noon carries my joy
and eventide sets me afloat with sorrow.
In times like this
What If thy kingdom has come?
Will thy will still be done on earth?
As it is in heaven.
©MASTER UPON THE PEN®
Bad days, bad luck.
It’s rewritten of lost fortune
And business men go on loss
Likewise the day sellers.
Each time I try to forget the pain,
All alone and confused,
Nothing is left but scars.
I wish death could take me.
©ZEPHNATH JUDE EROBE N®
The miserable days
That gives treasure
To supplant your pressure
In amiable sojourn
Comes days of aeon.
We suffer to strive and survive.
We shrive to thrive through omens.
Recently I woke at daybreak
To find the moon still wearing the sky’s crown,
when I take a path away home
I come across a black cat.
The thoughts of suicide, a companion.
Hopes, crushed by wheels of ruination.
Success mocked, failure triumphed.
Those days: gateway to the good days.
Bad days are as those adages,
That require an umpteenth hand to handle.
It is as those adages,
That leaves one groping for meaning.
©DAVID E. GARE®
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