My child, sweet fruit of life, how swift you grow,
And every day more precious than before;
That darling cherub that dear God bestowed
Descending swiftly to this mortal shore.
Pure innocence from when your time began
Thrust from calm darkness into harshest light,
That rude indecorous debut of man,
From heavenly bliss unto drab earthly blight;
But as you bravely enter man’s estate,
That shadowed valley that all travelers cross,
Presume not yet to kneel at heaven’s gate;
Life’s battle won is but a pitch and toss;
But live yet proud, as every soul shall die—
A smile at first, then tears in someone’s eye.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Poetry will often make love smile
Much like soft notes of music pleasing ears;
Though poems of love may be beset with guile,
Sweet cadence woven in can hearts endear;
The songs of love are oft times puffery,
Like peacock plumes designed to stir the heart,
Or courtly notes fond wafted on the breeze,
Each but displayed to prove the suitor’s art.
‘Tis why, my love, that I do write for you,
Not license here, but love commands my pen,
It’s not soft power that I do here abuse,
But my desire to praise your truth again.
Why deign to merit worth with false acclaim?
To flatter such would mete true beauty shame.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I think of you when spring’s sweet breezes sing
And feathered blooms erupt in blissful joy,
Proclaiming death to winter’s gelid sting
And paints with green the withered, faded moors.
In nascent buds, dear thoughts of love arise
Like fresh beginnings praise may yet bestow,
With all pink promise that proud hope contrives
And with glad bounty vernal hearts propose.
In truth, fate robbed me of such precious bliss,
Like spring born blossoms razed by thundered might;
True love assured, now ever gone amiss—
Your golden grace forever fled from sight.
Though birds still sing and buds swell on the vine,
Rare joy in this does my heart ever find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

When limpid teardrops fill up loving eyes
And tender lips do quiver in love’s state,
Impassioned hearts unveiled may yet belie
The aching hope this sacred moment wakes—
And touch to touch leads on to warm embrace,
Then lips to lips and breast to breast confined;
Two souls unmasked, stand naked, face to face;
Their hearts, their hopes, their mortal breath entwined.
The deepest love within such rapture lives.
And for such bliss two lovers ever strive,
In truth and honesty love ever gives
And for such bliss true lovers long contrive…
So seemed the stakes when I did pledge my troth,
Sweet Heav’n attained—or into Hades tossed.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

For what is love if not some plundered lust,
That smoldering peace that follows courtship’s war;
When aphrodisia is but razed to dust
What then remains of sighs and sweet allure?
So dawns that armistice that heaven blessed—
Two sparring hearts now in alliance pledged;
‘Neath eyes of god, fidelity confessed;
Into that love shared cup, their passion gently wedged.
But true love thrives, and from lust’s ashes rise,
And like the phoenix soars on wings of flame,
Lifting love’s burden to empyreal skies,
And from this vantage there—for life to reign.
No greater glory ever crowned defeat;
Than love succeeding lust’s surrender sweet.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Why reach for things that seeming can’t be touched;
Why strive for that which never can be gained;
When does the more become the much too much;
How far to push ‘til pleasure crossed brings pain?
Yet how do we determine earthy bounds
Save but to gird and give our very best?
For cowards rare in victory’s march are found;
Impossible is sure the greatest test.
‘Tis why, my love, that I pursue your grace,
When all have sworn that you will n’er be mine
Still when I first did gaze upon your face,
I promised I would have you in due time.
Though costs be great, I fairly know your worth,
And for such prize would move both heaven and earth.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Why do I muse on tales of the past,
Those bitter barren days, long past and cold;
And of this bent I must now pause to ask
If time should gild all memories yon with gold?
Why do I dwell on lofty times of yore
When brutish ways did more than best relate?
What glory there in ladies and their lords
When to some tyrant king their fealty waits?
What have I learned from searching storied time,
Save steel is strong and that the flesh is weak;
That power corrupts and ever is the crime
Perpetuating bondage of the meek?
From history past, we shape what future brings,
To stay free men, and not the slaves of kings.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.