Sonnet 220

Oh, how my heart does pine when you’re away,
Desire is like a hunger without end;
I long for all the things you do and say,
And all things dear love’s loving does attend;
Soft eyes that with a glance, can melt my soul,
Sweet gentle voice, warm promise does avow,
Fond touch that can make primal juices flow…
So come to me my love, come here and now!
Let us commit and ever be as one,
And heart to heart so share each living hour
Until our loving work on earth is done,
And we embark unto that crowning bower.
Two hearts so joined shall ever outlast time;
As I so consecrate, in heartfelt rhyme!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 219

When I am wedded to that mistress Death,
Committed so forever to her charms,
And feel on nape, the coldness of her breath,
And too, the clammy clasp of fleshless arms;
The blanching kiss of frigid livid lips,
That leering look of scornful jaundiced eyes,
The grotesque smile of gargoyles guarding crypts,
Choleric voice now ever there to chide.
Long past the point of sins to yet atone,
No breath or words remain to gods implore,
Not but the fading wail of banshee moans,
So hurled into Hell’s pit forever more;
Beyond the brink, where prayers may not annul;
Dark matrimony so consumes the soul.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

A Child’s Gold

There is naught but sweeter,
Then a child’s song;
When the sun’s a golden meter,
And days are long.

The midas orb looks down
Through green leafed shade;
Dappling the ground,
Gold coins inlaid.

Orange tiger lillies wave,
To passing bees;
Beckoning that knave
To ravish, please!

The lady slipper sleeps,
‘Midst mosses green,
Immersed in shadows deep,
And rarely seen.

All streams run crystal clear,
Rainbows and brooks;
Rise slowly to the lure,
From watery nooks.

Coyote calls soon stir,
The thickening night;
And lightning bugs inspire,
In fancied flight.

Warm moon that rises there,
From out the ground;
Floating on thin air,
Without a sound.

Barn owls hail the stars,
In muffled calls,
And cattle call afar,
In lowing bawls.

The moonlight gilds the grain,
In silver bold;
Where sunshine will at noon,
Fair grace with gold.

The world aglow in peace,
There on the farm,
Reminding of the place,
My song was born.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.