Hold my hand in quiet serenity
And walk with me upon the sands of time;
Our hopes shall guide us into harmony
So leading to elusive lands sublime.
The long dark night will find us by our fire,
As will the wind and rain or raging storm,
And in its peaceful glow we’ll then retire
To wait the coming of each fresh new morn.
In noiseless emerald glens we’ll spend the night
Slaking our morning thirst in mountain streams—
We’ll dine in nature’s gardens of delight
And feed our souls with glad and golden dreams.
These are my fondest hopes, my wish for you—
For with your grace all wishes can come true.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I held you in the quiet still of night,
With limbs entwined amidst warm shadows deep;
I felt your touch though stars denied us light,
While soft sweet perfumed breath played on my cheek.
What tender depths we reached in calm caress—
Two naked souls made whole in unity;
As passion’s fire smoldered in my breast
I reached my hand toward eternity.
We shared our hopes and fears in whispered thought
Then drowned all care in silence, soft, serene
And cherished every moment that love brought,
Before we slipped  into a sea of dreams.
My dear sweet friend these thoughts of you live on
To warm my heart long after you are gone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Why should we fret when fate has cast our lives
And measures out our mirth and misery?
Hope’s smile is often but a thin disguise
That beckons toward a forgone destiny.
And time is oft the piper marching on,
Each soul entranced by some discordant tune,
And yesterday’s tomorrow come and gone—
The brightest star at dawning meets its doom.
Yet with uncertainty, whence springs fond hope
To guide the heart and hand of broken men?
What drags the sluggard to his humble work,
Or bids the moiler fortune to contend?
What beacon burns within a wretched life
That drives it onward through relentless strife?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

We woke then to that brawny, brilliant sun
Who seemed to scorn our tender, idle grace.
The gentle night, her dream-sweet vigil done,
Had left this blazing tyrant in her place.
His manner—rude and grand—did well displease
Two souls enamoured still in tranquil rest,
While fur and feather roused at his decree,
In raucous chorus, omnipotence professed.
Yet you and I retained our lover’s stance
And watched his ire ascend the morning sky,
And smiled when clouds obscured his lustrous glance,
Or when a a blessèd cooling breeze passed by—
For when you are with me, no weight I bear,
And for this peace, the wrath of kings I’d dare.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I saw the evil rolling o’er your face
When I once said I’d go my separate way;
For what but evil finds in this disgrace
A loss it never loved, nor sought to stay?
No tears of sadness heralded despair—
That showed no sorrow, only blinding rage;
And to “our love,” what could you then compare,
With my heart locked within a gilded cage?
No love but selfishness would ask this state
As master might from some poor hapless slave;
Nor could a lover’s mind e’re contemplate
The tangled web of lies my soul misgave.
True love cannot thus end in cold disdain,
For without truth, there is no love to gain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

How could you leave without a fond farewell
When gentle breezes stirred the buds of spring,
And carried forth their perfumed thoughts to tell
The timid feathered songsters then to sing?
But they sang cheerless all throughout the May,
And their sad chorus echoed into June.
Nor could the summer’s sunshine chase away
The jaundiced gloom that marked a harvest moon.
All summer wore the guise of winter’s theme,
And autumn’s riches deepened my despair.
Each season came like some unwelcomed dream,
And in departing left its sadness there.
Yet though these memories still may beckon tears,
How strange the calloused hand of time endears.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

What trials may life lay on those who’ve loved
And languished in the summer of their years?
Love’s joy uplifted by a radiant sun
Soon falls to earth amid a flood of tears.
Fond hopes—once burning beacons for glad hearts,
Now faintly glowing in sad memory,
Fade like the dying of ten thousand stars
As dawning drowns them in an astral sea.
Thus through this interchange of joy and grief
Do human hearts and souls assume their state
And join the flux of universe complete—
Amidst the cold indifference of fate.
As golden sunshine brings tomorrow’s rain,
So joyful smiles may be tomorrow’s pain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow—
That endless siege of bitter, barren days
That fate extends to mete out all her sorrow
Through time-worn, empty tragedies replayed.
What consolation lies within such strife
That mocks the humble hopes of haggard men?
When sombrous sorrow permeates glad life
What darker sadness does such woe portend?
What future stirs within that ruined wake—
Relentless quotidian misery—
And from prosaic life what can fate take
To further debase  a lowly destiny?
Oh nothing—save your fond and timeless grace
And gentle smile, which can all woe disgrace.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Ah sweet flower, why do you bring me pain
Midst gentle fragrance and a softer touch?
What cruel pleasure does such feat attain
To see me suffer sweetly—and so much?
This tortured triumph by a lover’s hand
Is anguish far beyond the tyrant’s reach,
And love directed with such false command
Does soon in time its fairest promise breach.
Thus you, in wayward love do somehow take
The best and brightest of my fondest dreams,
While in soft hands a kinder heart you break
With sad untruths that do true love demean.
Still, if you must weigh blame, state this my fault:
Say that his blood was red; his tears were salt.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

What should I say to you if we should meet
Some ages hence, time-worn and unaware?
How should I then your startled visage greet,
And to my own surprise, what might compare?
Would trembling lips still find a fond hello
For friends and lovers of a yesteryear,
And would glad hearts in gentle softness glow,
Or sadness mar such chance with silver tear?
Might joy or grief fall under cold restraint
And mask their stirrings in neutrality—
Yet what fool soul could ever contemplate
A heart unmoved by such strong poignancy?
A meeting thus, its silent thoughts proclaim
In smiles like the sun, or tears like rain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.