My child, sweet fruit of life how you do grow,
And every day more precious than before;
That darling cherub that dear God bestowed
Descending swiftly to that mortal fore.
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,
Do not presume 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 music woven in can hearts endear;
The songs of love are oft times puffery,
Like peacock plumes designed to pique love’s heart,
Or warbled 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,
Why I extol your virtues with my pen;
It’s not my license here that I 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 remember you when sweet breaths of spring.
Burst forth from feathered flowers in their joy,
Proclaiming death to winter and to bring,
That blush of green upon brown faded moors.
In nacent life my thoughts of love do rise
Like fresh beginnings on which praise may grow,
With all pink promise that proud hope contrives
And with glad bounty vernal loves suppose.
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 still there belie
The deep solicitude this scene awakes;
And touch to touch leads then to firm embrace,
Then lips to lips and breast to breast confined;
Two souls unmasked, stand naked, face to face;
The hearts, the forms, the hopes, the lives 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 fortune lovers do 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 but plundered lust,
That smoldering peace that follows courtship’s war;
When aphrodisia is quite razed to dust
What of sweet sighs and looks, allures of more?
So dawns that armistice that heaven endorsed
Two sparring hearts now in alliance pledged;
‘Neath eyes of god, fidelity enforced;
Into that loving cup, sweet passion wedged.
But true love thrives, and from lust’s ashes rise,
And like the phoenix soars on wings aflame
Lifting love’s burden to empyreal skies,
And from this vantage there, for life to reign.
No greater glory ever knew defeat;
As 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 now 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 proven bitter barren days of old;
Of this proclivity, I must therefore ask
If time should gild all memories yon with gold?
Why do I dwell on lofty times of yore
When brutish should yet best describe their state?
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.