For I have loved you as a man insane,
Sound reason lost amidst a crazed desire;
A single mindedness past praise or shame,
Raw brazen lust consuming like a fire.
I close my eyes and all I see is you,
Your voice calls to me in the still of night;
Your countenance adorns both sun and moon,
Your smile, my heart does ever quicken quite.
So drawn, I yet still fear your loving touch
And in asylum I do love afar,
For love like this is clear a burden such –
My essence crushed if such a love bore scorn.
Still in my mind, I lavish you with care,
My love but here a dream of glad despair.

 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Black waves white-tipped with rage lash at the store
Exploding shrapnel spume on crags of grey,
Tall stalwart stones still silent, moist with tears,
Saturnine, strong, with nothing left to say;
Yet still the waves mete out unbridled pain
As if persistence might soon breach the wall;
Wroth tortured tantrum, seething, spite sustained,
Rebuffed in foam and shattered screams, they fall.
Oh life, oh love, oh hope, oh destiny!
What might I yet have done to have prevailed?
What pride resides in fool’s futility?
What providence should stand here unassailed?
So with pure might, ‘gainst savage stone I stand,
‘Til sweat and blood and tears grind stone to sand.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

From heaven’s palette beauty’s brush bestowed
In tints and tones and lights and darks most rare,
The finest blush of hues sweet Nature knows
Whose colors true no earthly sylph could bear.
A masterpiece of many favored strokes,
Pastels of pink and lavender and blue,
A symphony of sight that can evoke
Surrender in stout hearts with but a view.
So was I smitten when your gaze met mine,
My proud stern singledom there razed to ruin;
A soul transformed, suspended there in time,
A knight now sworn to fealty anew.
Beauty most fair, now suddenly my queen;
Brought to my knees by sight, and force unseen.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

As I am now, so too you yet shall be;
Child of life and vigor that knows no bounds;
Time is mendacious and all eyes shall see,
That time but lends the beauty it endows.
So make the most of your brief given span
Before that covetous userer calls his loan;
And wring from life all sweetness that you can-
The deathbed is the place we should atone;
Then look upon each morning as a gift,
Where it be bright or darkened there with gloom
Each breath, the air that gives your wings fair lift,
There on those wings, the great wide world to roam;
And when returned to search these aging eyes,
Look for those truths that jealous time has tried.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

There is no greater truth of he and she
That nature has enshrined in sands of time,
No greater fact that stands for you and me
And holds us in the unseen ties that bind;
The soundest proof is woven in life’s theme,
In all life’s forces blessed by Nature’s hand;
In actions of earth’s beasts and birds and bees,
And forms now mortared in hard stones of sand;
Though human lust may clothe a naked truth
And darkened hearts subvert life’s pristine light,
No twisted rantings here could ever move
That edict that four billion years made right-
But Nature does not judge by right or wrong,
As witnessed by past tales etched in stark stone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

What wisdom have we salvaged from the cross
Whose blood stained wood did scour the sins of man?
Did ghastly suffering simple faith emboss
Gaunt images to haunt us for time’s span?
Do words of heaven stay the savage beast?
Does golden gaze instill civility?
Do promises of paradise decrease
The specter of man’s inhumanity?
When evanescent scriptural smoke is gone,
That scarecrow, soon all doubting eyes will see,
As but crossed staves that slender limbs lay on,
Not truth but falsehood practiced to deceive.
Thus, of these thoughts, and two millennia in,
The scarecrows’ clothes grow ragged in the wind.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Dark tree tops tousled by an angry wind,
The seething sky a drab and doomful grey;
While in the distance roiling clouds ride in,
With piercing raindrops leading up the fray.
A cannon flash does crack the waxing gloom,
Soon followed by the sounds of distant drums;
The line approaching like some fierce dragoons,
Imposing specters of the strife to come;
But you now gone, I welcome frenzied might;
If but some fearsome god would strike me down,
Or yet some warrior’s sabre of pure light
Would run me through and all my pain be gone;
And love bereft, I meet my Waterloo,
With my last breaths still singing songs of you.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Then cloud me not with rumor or romance
When I gaze in your deep and savage eyes,
Yet can I here distil with but a glance
That ardent truth that beauty’s smile belies.
Am I a sailor sworn to sirens songs,
Marked by black fate to be a rune of time,
Content to love embrace ‘til hope be gone,
And rocky shores my sun bleached bones enshrine?
Why must I importune my love is true;
Why must I bleed that you know blood is red?
Do not pure tears and kisses sweet construe
My purpose here, that you have naught to dread?
Oh that these salt stained orbs could see your soul,
And your dark eyes, in turn, my truth behold.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.