Sonnet 300

Let not the arms of mother’s love despair
For love bestowed does not presume a way
And laboring so in sweet eternal care,
She does with means and ways fond hope convey;
The wisest son does make his father proud,
The dullard to his mother’s breast oft clings,
Yet fosters both may don the mourner’s shroud
When sorrow to glad hearts flawed breed does bring.
Still of this failure who should bear the scorn,
Of baird whose actions stain their pedigree
There oft the mother’s heart does heft the more
Which mocks her worth and work so woefully;
The warmest sun and too the sweetest rain
Falls soft upon the flower and weed the same.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 299

Power to soar above on eagle wings,
Power to smite with heaven’s thunder roar,
Power to lead with all that beauty brings,
Power to open yet each sturdy door;
Power to live and shine with brightest light,
Power to give and yet humbly receive,
Power to endure each battle’s cruelest fight,
Power to speak the truth and not deceive.
My children dear, may God grant you these gifts
That you stand proud when voice to mighty calls
And serving passion, never stray amiss
Succumbing so to lusts the weak befall;
May conscious courage guide your every day
That you may show the world a better way.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 298

Precious flower borne of Florentine winds
One day did wash upon that chalky shore
And there found fertile ground to so begin
A ripened form to best all forms before;
In Albion clay this changeling did take root
To spread amongst lush gardens of the land,
A bloom whose iridescence could compete
With any floret blessed by mortal hand;
Sweet nurtured thus it grew in praised delight
To freshen quite each cultured drawing room,
In scented worth each fancy there took flight
And every heart assailed did faint and swoon;
This beauty bright once every lea adorned
Now rare in sight, fair essence but forsworn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 297

It pains me so that beauty may not find
A face and form as grand as yours to hold,
Or yet be blessed by sterling heart so kind
When God has deemed it time for you to go.
What loss to all who knew that golden smile,
The very tears of heaven sure to fall
In homage to the brief telluric while
A mortal angel held the world in thrall.
I have reflected … faces borne on time …
Their marveled essence frozen so in stone,
Envisaged sweet when drawn from well inked rhyme,
Or splashed in strokes upon broad canvas strown;
In all of these your visage stands apart,
None more revered than those locked in my heart.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 296

You walked into the hall and time did stop;
Sharp voices stalled abruptly in the room,
There every mind absolved of every thought
Save one that your sweet visage now did own.
Oh beauty rare that with this silent power
Holds rapt harsh eyes that every face did glaze,
Disparaging oft with look disdained and dour
Now rigored quite in silent dumbstruck praise.
What pleasure so to see the haughty slain,
Fair beauty’s boot upon those pompous throats
That from thick scrags that thin blue blood might stain
Prinked ruffles that the darkest hearts do cloak;
But then you flashed a smile to souls astound —
And in an instant razed them to the ground.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 295

We met by star lust, shared a drink or two
Our worlds colliding, differing night as day,
Drawn together by dark matter’s murky glue,
Sheer Jovian impact, now what to say?
Had I but there a cigarette to light
To burn the awkward silence of the Moon:
Saturnine bleakness murky walls did dight,
Black holian shadows oppressive as a tomb.
Dimples of Venus, love is deep as skin—
No comet bright to burst through passions door,
Just the lingering scent of telluric sin
Meteoric clothing strewn upon the floor.
I fall to Earth, eclipse my Martian frame,
Mercurial madness marred by stellar shame.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.