I galloped hard across the dusty plain
My hand white blanched upon the bridle reins
Rowelled silver flashing red in meted pain,
I flailed the beast with all my might and main.
Sweat foam told me in time his strength would wane,
I knew that soon their fastest steeds would gain,
And then hot lead would fly like pelting rain—
Terse thoughts tore through the turmoil in my brain.

A mile or more to reach a stand of trees,
Off to my right a cliff and angry seas
And to my left rode flankers, twos and threes
Their musket balls flew by like wrathful bees;
Shod hooves drowned out my desperate God aimed pleas,
The stallion now grew weaker in the knees
There through hot foam his mighty breath fair seethed,
Dull spurs now gave less pain to him than me.

Without a thought I pulled the roan far right
He stumbled but regained his footing quite,
The shining sea loomed closer in my sight
And so a resolution to my plight;
I yelled to stoke his last remaining fight,
Then fired my pistol at the pressing blight,
Clenched leather in my hands with all my might
And launched us o’er the edge … and into flight.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

The perfume of that summer burned so strong
And simmered on amidst the churr of bees,
A rill of daisies ran a full furlong
Along a split-rail fence to distant trees.
There, hand in hand we wandered through the field
And rested ‘neath a time-worn gnarled oak
Whose crooked branches wove a verdant shield
Where shaded primrose deemed the day bespoke.
No time like this—the world and love as one,
A sun blessed heath awash in living joy;
Your smile more dazzling than that jealous sun,
Supreme contentment no dark clouds alloyed.
How oft my mind returns unto that spot;
Two hearts ‘neath spreaded tree, pure love besot.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

With loves great strength I pulled a sword from stone
And then, so armed, lay siege upon your heart;
There to your grace my fealty was sworn
Where only death might cleave that troth apart;
Amused you were that I—a self-dubbed knight—
With blade-honed words might vie to be your king;
Mere yesterday I was a craven wight
Strained hand on quill, a timid underling.
Still none could say that sword was not fair won,
And none could claim my calling was not true;
For clear in granite, there engraved upon,
That chiseled proclamation all might view.
With sword in hand I knelt upon a knee—
On your consent, there twice a king to be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

My thoughts return to you yet once again,
When lustrous moon reigns queen o’er all the land,
Argentic auras gilding hand and pen
While darkest shadows in mute reverence stand;
I bare my soul to her soft smile above,
In hope that flowing ink spills silver down—
Rich hand-cast words to burnish there with love
Soft-set in care, as bullion in a crown.
Tonight, though bright, no precious words I find;
Though in my mind your face shines sweet and pure,
I look down at this page that I have signed—
Still blank and void, endorsement premature.
The moon’s enlightened thought advises too,
And in soft light I scribe sweet lines anew.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Here beauty lies beneath a slab of stone
To rest in dreams and in sweet memory
And though I know her spirit has long flown,
I kneel and feel her presence next to me;
Within my mind she’ll stay forever young
And as so planned, live always by my side;
Together we remain forever one
Ensconced in heart, there always to abide.
The slab stays mute as tears spill down like rain,
Fond thoughts do warm, yet stone remains so cold;
I bow my head, no soul could bear this pain;
If but dear god would take me to his fold.
How can I face the world without her love?
Where lies sweet mercy from the one above?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

You said you must go to him; I said go,
His having claimed some hour of dire need—
And leave you did, to save his mortal soul,
Some curious bond to him you did not cede;
An empty moment later you were gone
Yet in that silence, time to contemplate.
Not much on why or what, or whereupon…
But more the proud decorum love should state.
True love divided surely cannot stand,
Your first concern was clearly not of me;
What word of mine should serve to countermand
The simple tenets of love’s loyalty?
’A pity run’ you said, upon return;
‘Goodbye’ I said, of this perhaps I’ll  learn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I flipped a silver coin into the air,
Deciding thus upon which road to take—
That shining disc to mitigate the dare
Of walking past your house and garden gate.
For many months our hearts had been estranged
But your place lay en route to village pier,
And my desire—not more than to arrange—
Swift passage to a land away from here.
Perhaps I might accost to say goodbye;
Perhaps I might a stony heart so feign;
Perhaps a sullen tear in your sweet eye
Might lead you yet into my arms again;
The coin flies up, I catch and hold in dread:
That in my palm shall lie a tail or head.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

What does she see in me with those sweet eyes?
For I’m not more than but a beggar born;
What favored cerebrations could comprise
Her musings on my worth—thoughts not yet torn?
Perhaps she pities but my low degree,
A mongrel stray left on the street to fend;
And of her kindness, grants her grace to me,
Where I her interest but for guilt contend.
No—High compassion could not give her heart
To some sad wretch in need of charity,
Nor does her deep affection here comport
With action based in broad philanthropy.
I am quite sure she loves but me alone—
Or fortune blind has placed me on this throne!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Apart from breathing, how gain you respect
Above that which low life forms should possess?
Your passage here—what laurels do bedeck’
What triumphs won through diligent finesse?
All wealth accrued through ill-begotten gain,
All merit worn, so weaved from black deceit,
All pleasure bought by other people’s pain,
All efforts greased by gall and greed complete.
Scurvy dung beetle, metering out it’s time—
Each day that ball of refuse larger grows;
Living off earth’s dirt and rankest grime,
Prisoner of the only life it knows.
If there be gods, one day a gracious step
Shall crush that bug—that it may not beget.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

The mortal soul must pass—yes, this I know—
But none have e’re returned to truly tell
What vehicle of transit bore them so,
Or if their rest be heaven, or be hell.
Yes, many claim of voices heard in dreams,
Fantastic phantoms seen in seance rooms,
Strange visitants that drift in haloed beams
Or apparitions wandering in the gloom.
The only thing that’s sure is here and now:
That in my arms a wondrous truth I hold—
That we have lived a life of endless love,
And etched our transit in a book of gold.
Of what’s to come, I’ll say I have no fear;
Where love shall lead—I know we both are there.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.