Hold my hand in quiet serenity
And walk with me upon the sands of time;
Our hopes will guide deserved prosperity
So leading to elusive lands sublime.
The long dark night will find us by our fire,
As will the wind and rain or wretched storm,
And in its peaceful glow we will retire
To wait the coming of each fresh new morn.
In noiseless emerald glens we’ll take respite
To slake our thirst by crystal 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,
Our limbs entwined amidst warm shadows deep;
I felt your touch when stars denied us light,
Your soft sweet perfume breath upon my cheek.
What tender depths we reached in calm caress,
Our naked souls immersed in unity;
As passion’s fire smoldered in my breast
I reached my hand across eternity.
We shared our hopes and fears in whispered thought
And drowned our cares in silence, soft, serene;
We cherished every touch each moment brought,
Then slipped away 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 meted out our mirth and misery?
Hope’s smile is often but a trite disguise
That beckons to a forgone destiny.
And time is oft the piper marching on;
Each foolish ear but hears a different tune,
And yesterday’s tomorrow come and gone;
The brightest star at dawning meets its doom.
Yet with uncertainty where springs fond hope
That guides 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 eggs it onward through relentless strife?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

We woke then to that brawny brilliant sun
And felt him thus proclaim our morning’s waste.
The night her gentle dream sweet course had run
And left this glaring stranger in her place.
His manner, rude and great, most to displease
Those souls enamoured still in tranquil rest,
And fur and feather rose at his decree,
In raucous chorus, omnipotence professed.
But you and I retained our lover’s stance
And watched his anger slowly mount on high,
And smiled when clouds obscured his lustrous glance,
Or when a cooling gentle breeze passed by.
For when you are with me there is no care,
And for this state the wrath of Kings I’d dare.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I saw the evil roll across your face
When I stated I would go my separate way,
For what but evil would find this disgrace
From one who did not love, and could not stay.
No tears of sadness heralded false despair
That manifested not but blinding rage;
And to that love what then would you compare
That bade true love embrace from gilded cage?
No love but selfishness would ask this state
As master would from some poor hapless slave;
Nor could a lover’s mind yet contemplate
The spate of twisted truth that was displayed.
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 without cheer throughout the May,
And their sad chorus echoed into June.
Nor could sunshine this melancholy stay
As summer sun gave way to harvest moon.
All summer did a cruel winter seem,
And autumn’s bounty brought its own 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 has time wrought for those who loved
And languished in the summer of their years?
True hearts uplifted by a loving sun
Soon fall to earth amidst a thousand tears.
Fond hopes, once burning beacons of glad hearts,
Now glowing embers of sad memory,
Fade like the dying of a billion stars
As dawning drowns them in an astral sea.
So with this interchange of joy and grief
Do human hearts and souls assume their state,
And join the flux of universe complete,
Amidst the blank neutrality of fate.
As golden sunshine brings tomorrows’ rain,
So joyful smiles may be tomorrows’ pain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
That endless siege of bitter barren days
That fate can use to meter out her sorrow
In endless empty tragedies replayed.
What consolation is there in such strife
That mocks the humble hopes of haggard men?
When sombrous sorrow permeates glad life
What further sadness does such grief portend?
What future then can lay in ruined wake
Of this quotidian misery,
And from prosaic life what can fate take
To rob me of abased destiny?
Oh nothing, save your fond and gentle grace
And gentle smile, which can all woe disgrace.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Ah sweet flower, why do you bring this pain
Midst gentle fragrance and a softer touch?
What twisted 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 incongruous love do take
The better portion of my fondest dreams,
And in soft hands no kinder heart may break
Midst sad untruths which does fond love demean.
Yet 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 would compare?
Would trembling lips then find a fond hello
For friends and lovers of a yesteryear,
And would glad hearts in gentle smiles glow,
Or sadness mar such chance with silver tear?
Might joy or grief succumb to cold restraint
And mask their stirrings in neutrality,
But yet what fool could ever contemplate
A heart unmoved by their strong poignancy?
A meeting thus, its’ silent thoughts proclaim
In smiles like the sun, or tears like rain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.