A shadow crept up on the wall last night
Cast by a ghost moon’s wan and jaundiced glow,
A silhouette so dark it beckoned fright
Yet of a shape and form I seemed to know.
‘It’s been so long, why vex me now’, I said—
You answered not, but still the umbra smiled,
Stygian black, as mourning recent dead,
I rubbed my eyes that they not be beguiled;
‘What brings you now, all cloaked in ragged weeds,
Maleficent marauder of the moon,
Perhaps the mayhem of All Hallows’ Eve,
Has beckoned you from out some wicked tomb?
Ah but then, what a perfect night to call,
Where undead walk and evil may enthrall’.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Give me treats of Keats and bowls of Shelley
And Milton’s honey may my palate praise,
May bits of Byron fill my empty belly—
My quill pen true—it’s Worth in Words to phrase;
When feasted well on Poe drown thirst with Blake,
Mead drink to Shake with ice, or stir with Speare
Of mint, and quaffing so my soul to slake,
While musing yet on melodies of Moore.
May such a feast be blessed by wondrous Pope,
May Marlowe yet so toast this grand tableau
And somber Hardy lead us not to tope
That from gold tongues might tender verse yet flow.
There on sweet lyrics let me gorge my brain
And so surfeited there rhymed zeal sustain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

She bled a living red, her tears were salt;
She felt the paper cut of poetry…
In images of love she found no fault,
And proudly wore pulsed crimson on her sleeve.
Serendipity brought her to my realm,
She’d read some lines somewhere, sometime before
Though not enough her soul to overwhelm,
Yet still sufficient to unlock love’s door.
This meeting more than chance, it were to seem,
For she sought solace in soft arms of verse
And in a moment, like some pleasant dream,
She did my doubts of love and time inverse.
So now in ink, here still ensconced in rhyme,
We live forever as a rune of time.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Though you may doubt, I’ve always thought of you
For where I’ve roamed, your visage followed me,
Whether at sea or on yon mountains blue
Your smile a rainbow of felicity.
By evening fires I felt you by my side…
Eyes draped in restful sleep, I saw you there;
No place I’ve gone on this great world and wide
Did my lone soul not pine to have you near.
Sweet love seems both a blessing and a curse—
A feather light, yet still a heavy stone
To bolster us when we are at our worst,
Or bring us down when left to ache alone.
By heaven’s grace, these actions speak of love,
And if not so, what argument disproves?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Stained leaves lie shorn by cruel autumn winds,
The pride of summer razed upon the ground—
Stark proof that Time gives quarter to no things;
On all terrestrial acts, his stroke is found;
So creeps the rust along the soldier’s sword,
So marks tall castles rubbled to decay,
So marks strewn books that praise the Holy word —
What monument of worth can Time not slay?
Yet life renews where stone is ground to sand
And in the spring, new buds will light dead trees
And blood through younger blood ‘gainst blade shall stand,
So human hope prevails through Deity.
Though Time still presses on his murderous reign,
Despite this siege, there life shall rise again.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

That time ago when I first chanced  to gaze
Upon that smile that shines upon me still,
Fair looks alone that set my heart ablaze—
Love’s searing essence tempering my will.
With lustrous light you thrilled me from afar,
My soul inflamed, eyes wide with lips struck dumb
As one who first beholds a new found star
Or ancient awed ‘neath full eclipse of sun.
Surrendered so to love’s astronomy,
Enamored by that grand celestial show,
Uncertain still of sight’s veracity,
Content to bask in heaven’s holy glow.
Each night I turn my eyes to skies above
To thank my favored stars for your dear love.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

In quiet moments when it seems God sleeps
I pray to Him half knowing He can’t hear
Soft murmured pleas that earnestly beseech,
Or fervent thanks for His abiding care;
Here echoes do return as joy or pain
So meted in long minutes or brief days—
Those random bursts of sunshine or of rain
That leads me to the hope that Heaven sways
Some blessed direction to my lonesome path
That is yet lit by blessed celestial light,
That mine is not a road beset by wrath,
Its shadowed valleys marked by endless blight;
But if it comes to be I walk alone—
Hope and serendipity were my song.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.