Sonnet 53

When first I grasp my pen I think of you,
That golden haloed image of my eyes
Which cleaves all shadow and can so break through
The blot black mantle of a moonless sky.
You are yet here and ever on my mind
As if with you all happiness does dwell,
The rarest gift to hail from heaven kind;
Sweet smile of light to make the spirit swell.
So here your helot sits compelled to write
And in so doing strives to hold you near,
Where writing so is clear a fancied flight
Writ in a dream, convinced these words endear.
Yet should you ask what does this wordsmith mean?
Look in your glass, you are a poets dream.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 52

Perhaps but richer words should guide my pen,
Fair lofty lines that seem from heaven sent;
Enraptured with the brilliance of the sun
Yet tempered with a moonbeam’s sentiment.
Some iridescent phrase that can command
And turn at once as yet a thousand ears,
And with their stately power here commend
A glorious gift that lasts a thousand years.
This golden pen should scrive this for my love,
Yet knowing ink could ne’er describe her worth,
I meekly call to gods that dwell above-
And thank them for this angel set on earth.
Still, humblest words that spring forth from the heart,
Gift more than guilded pens could e’er impart.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 51

This morning finds me mute and so I write;
My spirit sult and sullen as the day.
Yet with just bounty, sadly still I gripe
Of futures dreamt that wretched time way laid.
Did I but choose or was my course fair given?
Did fate or chance scratch lines upon my chart?
Will fortunes rise or yet remain unleavened?
Upon whose stage do I now rant my part?
No gods or kings have given me behest-
If traveler such, my course remains unknown.
If actor, no drab lines have I rehearsed.
If fortunes fool, the die that’s cast seems done.
Should to this journey fate remain unkind,
The greatest hardship leaves my love behind.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 50

If slandered be thy name than be it so.
Rude jealousy takes aim at higher mark.
All men of decent standing will fair know
That knaves and fools such drivel do impart.
Black words so said or writ are easy paid,
And only suspect minds provide them worth,
And promulgating such works to whose aid?
And in whose craft does profit there gain berth?
That men of sense do know this be assured.
That truth trumps falsehood ever is the case.
In voice and action, lies will be demurred,
For truth, in time, can never be defaced.
And men of lies will ever meet defeat;
And men of virtue ever will be great.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 49

It was not love that struck me at first sight,
Not Cupid’s dart that did arrest me there;
But something in an instant did ignite
A flame of passion that did surely flare.
And glim to conflagration grew anon
Consuming thusly reason, wit and sense.
Outshining logic which did soon abscond
And left this purblind courter in compense.
This swain did swoon and sightless ventured forth,
Proclaiming visions of such wild state
That sober listener not yet weighing worth,
Felt sure he must fair gaze through heaven’s gate.
That love is blind ’tis but no wonder so –
For souls in love see not but beauty’s show.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 48

No power on earth supplants your boundless love,
And I, its vassal, sworn to service be.
Yet not for land, nor gold, nor gifts above
Do I submit to this sweet fealty.
Still, in these lines my homage is as clear
As any oath that ever was so sworn;
And never was a pledge held yet so dear
That gods and kings all judgement may adjourn.
This love is as a passion pure and right
And in its’ service I am proud to stand.
Unto this duty I commend my life-
This vow to live until my life shall end.
By power of love I therefore crown you queen;
As in loves’ labor, ever have I been.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.