Let not the arms of mother’s love despair
For love bestowed does not presume a way
Yet labors on in sweet eternal care,
Sustaining grace through constancy of  days;
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 black shame, who bears the greater 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 yet upon the flower and weed the same.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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 fettered door;
Power to live and shine with brightest light,
Power to give and yet humbly receive,
Power to endure life’s cruelest blight,
Power to speak the truth and not deceive.
My children dear, may God grant you these gifts
That you stand proud when voice of 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.

Precious flowers borne of Florentine winds
One day did wash upon a chalky shore
And there found fertile ground to so begin
A noble form to best all forms before;
In Albion clay these changelings did take root
To spread amongst lush gardens of the land,
Fair blooms whose iridescence could compete
With any florets blessed by mortal hand;
Sweet nurtured thus they grew in praised delight
To freshen quite each cultured drawing room,
In scented worth each fancy there took flight
So every heart assailed did faint and swoon;
These beauties bright once every lea adorned
Now rare in sight, fair essence but forsworn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

It pains that future 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 sainted smile,
The very tears of heaven sure to fall
In homage to that 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 bold strokes on linen canvas strown;
In all of these your visage stands apart,
And so revered, remains locked in my heart.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

You walked into the hall and time did stop;
Sharp voices hushed abruptly in the room.
There every mind was cleansed of every thought
Save but the one your visage now did own.
Oh beauty rare that with this silent power
By looks alone could every eye so glaze,
And with a single glance stun faces dour
Soft killing them 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
White ruffled bands that those dark hearts did sport;
But then you flashed a smile to souls astound—
And in an instant razed them to the ground.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

We met by star lust, shared a drink or two
Our worlds colliding, differing night as day,
A gravitas of matter’s murky glue,
Sheer Jovian impulse, now what then to say?
Had I but there a cigarette to light
To burn the awkward silence of the Moon:
Saturnine bleakness dingy walls did dight,
Black holian shadows eclipsing like a tomb.
Dimples of Venus, love as deep as skin—
No comet bright to burst through astral doors,
Just Piscean scents of mad telluric sin
Meteoric clothing strewn upon the floor.
I fall to Earth, burnt red in Martian flame,
Mercurial madness marred by stellar shame.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.