What riches so to be immersed in thought,
And in deep thinking, shift these thoughts to you,
Forgetting thus the battles that I’ve fought,
Immersed in carefree peace you bring me to;
Then can I smile as you in visions dance,
And at your pleasure, hold you close to me,
So ‘round the ballroom of my mind we prance,
Uplifting hearts in joyful frivolity;
There in your eyes I see a precious truth,
And in your voice I hear delightful sounds,
Your body’s warmth, my essence so does sooth,
My soul in playful gaiety abounds:
What wealth a simple thought of you can bring,
That even heavied heart can romp and sing!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Where are you now, my sweet, where are you now?
Child of pleasure, fair fugitive from truth;
What have you reaped of sinful seeds there sown,
That field oft ploughed, but bearing little fruit;
Times judgement passed, has it been cruel or kind?
Are you still held a prisoner of your glass,
Numbering there in tears each time worn line,
Curtly executing each pallid tress?
I mourn for you, though not for loss thereof,
I am quite sure that you mourn not for me;
How could I move a heart immured in lust,
Vainglorious soul, forever so to be?
One heart was n’er enough to sate your needs:
Pure love is truth, borne not by words, but deeds.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Life is such a fleeting fancy,
Measured ‘gainst the wick of time;
Think about a one chance meeting,
Leading to a love sublime.

If pure luck, I still can’t fathom
How the odds brought you to me,
All the stars in all the heavens,
How is it so meant to be?

Be it yet the gods above us,
Let them hear my glad reply,
Ardent thanks is not enough
For this love that here yet thrives.

If blind fate, then I still wonder,
Who or what or why and how,
Two hearts so can join together
In one perfect here and now?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

When April’s blossoms in your cheeks have turned
Into the withered blight of blooms past prime;
When youth’s proud pyre into cold ashes burn,
And graceful poise now bends ‘neath heavied time;
When auburn tints give way to sullied snow
And bright eyes give way to shadowed grey,
When months and weeks and days all faster flow,
Gilt memories oft into the minds’ eye stray.
‘Tis then, perchance, your thoughts will turn to me,
Remembering so bold brash love without peer,
A heart as large and constant as the sea,
A truth that stood your guardian without fear;
And as you bask in golden memories deep,
Mourn love a fickle heart could never keep.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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 stay as one,
And heart to heart so share each living hour
Until our loving work on earth is done,
And we embark unto that golden bower.
Two hearts thus joined shall ever outlast time;
As I so consecrate, in heartfelt rhyme!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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 survive 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.

There is naught but sweeter,
Than a child in 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.