© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Month: March 2020
Sonnet 326
©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Don’t
©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Sonnet 325
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Sonnet 324
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Sonnet 323
Sonnet 322
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Sonnet 321
There is no greater challenge than black ink
Truth etched in lines that softly image you;
A simple pen in hand can make one think
And thought leads on to thoughts, as thought will do.
What portraits here to paint in cursive stroke;
What passions put to page can capture worth?
What force confined in two dimensioned yoke
Can yet convey a grandeur blessed in words?
Yet, humbled by your beauty I still write,
Debased by peerless virtue I transcribe,
Compelled by timeless merit I yet smite
That plain papyrus with this paltry rhyme;
A fool in love determined to amaze,
In ardor bold, but clear, bereft of ways.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Sonnet 320
Those quiet moments when I hold your hand,
That gentle peace where words dare not intrude;
No human moment ever stood so grand
As in that simple lovers’ interlude;
For what to say when hearts are joined as one,
Strong, confident and ever blessed by time,
A faith as constant as the day borne sun
True knowing I am yours and you are mine.
What greater tribute to the steadfast soul
That such commitment can live life beyond,
So even when the earth reclaims her brood
The thud of dirt can never end the song;
I am so blessed, your touch alone gives proof —
Love’s simple gestures can a world so move.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Sonnet 319
I saw you dancing at the Grand Rose ball
As ‘round that polished floor you swayed and swooned
So like a nascent blossom’s buoyant fall
You floated softly, blown about the room.
Never had I seen such loveliness—
Such artful motion plighted to a song,
Yet in a moment when my gaze digressed,
The music ended and the bloom was gone.
I could not find you, yes I searched in vain
Among soft rouge and pinks the hall adorned;
Each florets’ stem bore symbols of my pain,
Sweet haunting perfume left my soul forlorn.
Perhaps my eyes betrayed, thus so it seems…
Yet slumber closed, I dance with you in dreams.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.