Month: April 2020

Sonnet 333

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Your name is tantamount to the word love
For thoughts on each are ever more the same
And serve to strengthen this poor pen’s resolve
To prove in ink what heart and mind acclaim.
What irony that ink flows stygian black
While thoughts on love rejoice in fulgent cheer,
And by this contrast take dear love aback
Confounding purpose, pastels more endear.
From times when swords did rule the lives of men,
Or days when mighty quills all proofs inscribed,
So did dear love with darkness e’er contend
And by pure light, hate’s shadows e’re belied.
A paradox of love in black and white—
Dumb words in jet illumining truths I write.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 332

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Forget me not when I am turned to clay
My boisterous song sure silenced under stone,
But know that one man worshipped you each day
Believing all you touched would turn to gold.
What greater legacy to leave than love
And those sweet cherubs our dear union graced.
For all life’s blessings, I thank God above—
May our dear journey end in heaven’s praise.
Remember how I often made you smile,
How you would sigh and gently hold my hand?
Green eyes that once your very soul beguiled,
Embraces warm, replete with kisses grand?
I write these lines that truth might here remind,
Though life shall fade, our love will outlast time.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 331

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
You did not think I knew you were untrue…
So clever were the lines of your deceit,
Yet reading in between, suspicion grew
As every day strange stories I would greet.
You did not hold me when I drew you near,
Blank eyes looked through me to a distant light,
Each whispered kindness I might there endear
Was greeted with the chill of winter’s night.
What does one do when love’s great fire burns out,
Hearth stones bleed warmth beneath cold ashes grey?
There life’s sweet savor scorched, consumed by doubt,
While ember ghosts on dreamless cinders lay.
Truth is the fuel the flames of love live on,
And naught remains when all love’s kindling’s gone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 330

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What of your epitaph now yet unsung
That I shall scribe here on the slates of time
To mark your precious worth in words among
The treasured best poor hands can etch in rhyme;
If hope bides so, your memory ever stands
Although the writer shall to shadows fade,
Your grace to linger in the minds of men—
Immortal virtue so survives the grave.
If but my wanting hand could play some part
And in proud verse your beauty here uphold,
By God’s benevolence I would impart
A song that shall be sung in ages old.
This cyber stone I smite for all to read
To bless in rhyme your beauty, grace and creed.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 329

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I used to pray the world forswear all wars
And for each man to love his fellow man,
That bloody swords be hammered to plough shares
And warrior oaths embrace pastoral plans;
That those now held unjustly be set free,
That pestilence not stalk the earth again,
That hunger fade to distant memories
And every storehouse bulge surfeit with grain;
These pleas ‘mongst others I did serve to heaven,
Bold ardent prayers directed by a spire
While falling tears attested, hope was given;
Where heart and soul did to pure truth aspire.
With orisons unanswered, what to say?
As god stands witness, yes… I used to pray.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 328

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
You came to me as gentle breaths of spring
Reviving a dead soul from winter’s grip,
With all the pride and passion promise brings…
Sun-brightened smile, soft touch and song-sweet lips;
My memories of frost yet all too near,
Not knowing what to make of your warm light,
To feel sap flow again wrested glad tears
That melted all the chains of gelid blight.
Hope is a flower, delicate and pure
That reaches forth to hail from sullen earth,
Where beauty’s power, with gentle strength assured,
Providence may rise from cruel dearth.
True beauty is a balm that allays pain—
I look on you and all my woe does wane.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.