Sonnet 152

Love is not blind but sees with precious sight,
Supernal vision shared by loving eyes,
And vision shared does loves’ élan ignite,
Absolving sins while kisses moist baptize.
Yet what love sees, to others seems purblind
For love can see the essence of the soul,
Forgiving faults, that others would not bide;
Fair judgement not of parts, but of the whole.
Love is the core of every human bond
That holds steadfast against the trials of time,
It lives in lovers’ eyes past death beyond;
Empyreal fires that burn with light sublime.
In your bright eyes I see eternity;
Elysium’s flowers dancing in the breeze.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

The Naked Nude

Nakedness and nudity are not the same you see,
Though both can be examples of man’s hypocrisy;
For the truth is often naked, but it is seldom nude
And nudity’s not truthfulness, though oft considered rude.
Yet both describe the lack of clothes as though ’twere but the same,
But when man talks morality, one’s profound and one’s profane.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 151

From the first smile until the last tear falls;
From strident cry unto soft rattled moan;
From that first sight a mother’s heart enthralls,
Until the final glimpse of casket gloam.
Yet though we know life’s prelude and its end,
We may not know the hand that turns each page,
And we know not how each brief drama wends,
When grief or glory shall ingrace our stage.
Yet who would but forgo a mother’s touch,
And who of flesh would scorn love’s first sweet kiss,
Or who might deem a father’s pride too much,
Or fail to see a newborn child a bliss?
Though grim the story seems that ends in death;
Within each line lives joy in every breath.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 150

What can I say that was not said before,
Yet still you importune with lying eyes;
Comportment past attests you are a whore,
Now shamelessly returned to ply your wiles.
I begged you not to scorn these loving arms
But high on lust or spite you chose to leave,
And now, sham victim of some grievous harm
Love spurned, come back in tears, on bended knees.
Still worse, I learn that you are ripe with child,
Yes, heavy with misfortune’s bastard now,
And now returned with but a strumpet’s smile
To state misfortune’s mine; that I should know.
We shared misfortune once, oh woe betide;
But mine is out, and yours now deep inside.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 149

Sweet death! That blessed sleep in endless night
That frees us from the burdens of life’s dray;
Though colors ever bring the mind delight,
Who would eschew that gloam at end of day?
Of peace and solitude that knows no end
Who yet complained of such a blissful state?
Who wakes from restful slumber to append,
That quietude did not but aggravate?
As surely as soft moon succeeds harsh sun,
As surely as bright sky shall fade to black,
Why dread that time when worldly work is done
And we enjoy a sleep that ever lasts?
Men fear not death but for the rest it brings;
Save heaven or hell may haunt them in their dreams.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I Set You Free

Then take me here just as I am-
No more a friend, no, just a man,
For friends have bonds that you may find,
Exceeds stock mortar of mankind.
Yes human hearts with love enthrall
But hearts of friends do give their all;
The common love ephemerally,
True friends embrace eternally.
Acquaintances may come and go
But what of friendship do they know?
A friend endures in utter trust
When all hopes promise turns to dust,
Yet listens when all ears are deaf
And soothes the soul of love bereft;
Dependable ‘til eventide,
Strong, sure and stalwart by one’s side.
While for a fellow you might cry,
It’s for true friendship you would die;
Since I have not been this to you,
No comrade’s quarter should you show;
Since you have not been this to me
I ever more do set you free.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 148

We found a lone bench in the park that day,
A cold wind turned the collars of our coats;
You, recently returned with words to say,
Confessions I long gathered from your notes.
I did not take your hand, for well I knew
Iced loveless eyes now gazed upon my form;
Why could you not have written we were through,
What value in voiced torts now pity torn?
But you, professed pathologist on love,
Compelled to autopsy sweet love’s demise,
As shameless as some vile god above,
Content to torment for some macabre cause;
And love, stone-dead, you did cut out its heart,
And clinically detailed your own report.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 147

A smile, not for an age but for all time,
Truth not for now, but for eternity;
A heart fair filled with gentle love sublime,
A soul ensconced in proud fidelity;
So is the essence of a woman blessed
That every man desires to know her name;
And for her love, the dearest truths confessed;
Where men might die before they brought her shame.
My love, you wield this power with golden grace
That men go mad with dreams and pure desire;
Renouncing pride to gaze upon your face,
Enamored such, their memories left afire.
That men brave dragons for such worth is clear;
To champion that which truth and beauty mirror.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.