Dreamer

What do you do with a dreamer
That man who still thinks he can fly,
Whose heart is a vagabond schooner
And yearns but to live ‘til he dies.
Is he the one you would follow
As he treks to his place in the sun
And does his minstrel voice call you
To sing with him under the moon?
Life is a dream that awakens
In Hell or in sweet paradise
To whither our dear souls be taken
Depends on our truth and our lies.
So follow your heart as it beckons
And always to self yet be true,
Life is a journey that reckons
But still only asks you be you.
Then what about life with a dreamer
The one who can hope touch the sky,
There so let your heart be the leader
You never will know ‘til you try!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 362

I have not written any poems today,
For thoughts in verse seem meaningless to you
And so in simple script what hope to weigh—
Ensconced in ink—what passion to imbue?
I still believe my words can reach your heart,
That gentle lyrics might your soul inflame,
That love’s endearments set my lines apart
From others false in praise that laud your name.
Yes, I have scriven much in silent prayer
Imploring gods that you may one day read—
So of my ardor you might then compare,
And thus by force of pen, in love accede.
By fondest dreams that ever lived in rhyme,
May this rondel touch your sweet soul in kind.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 361

A painted lady on a fine white horse—
What Freudian edicts do there so convene!
But too enunciate aloud, of course,
Would be at best a slight—at worst, demean.
Not sitting in side-saddle might invite
Rebuke from psychoanalytic eyes,
Yet who of balanced conscience would indict
A belle upon a steed with open thighs?
Of human purpose when we so propose
Subconscious methods unto every act,
And reading thus between taut lines disclose
Attempts to thrust in bias, or redact;
Where courser stands a stallion or an ass,
More truth’s revealed in how we so assess.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 360

She drowned me in a lust beyond compare
And drew me deep beneath her passioned waves;
To choking depths I sank, bereft of air
As she entombed me in her watery maze;
Yet soon I learned to breathe that bitter brine,
My eyes, compelled, adjusted now to see
The vastness of her sub aquatic shrine—
That dark pelagic prison ‘neath the sea.
Each night I dined on tender fruit de mer
While serenaded by sweet sirens’ songs,
Fair nereids did tend my every care—
I learned her name was Amphitrite ‘fore long.
She’d chained a brood of Hydras in a cage…
Which I did choose to face o’er Neptune’s rage.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 359

Sweet dabs of springtime on that joy-filled lea
Gently swayed beneath a golden sun,
Pert yellows, reds, and blues in harmony
Bobbed to the tunes of zephyr songs soft sung;
The distant forest smudged in pastel green
Gave praise unto the brightest azure blue,
Feathered florets in leafy grottos preened
Then rose in chorus from their verdant pews.
So seems it now as at the very first
When Eden blossomed bright upon her stage,
Pure life brought forth from chaos unrehearsed
With all the splendor providence could wage.
A glimmer of the world by Heaven spun;
A jot of time from when the earth was young!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 358

If true love is for sale then what’s the cost
Where grotesque men seem pardoned by the purse—
And when love’s purchased, is sweet virtue lost,
Is female vanity now deemed the worse?
How oft upon the street our eyes do greet
A radiant blossom on a rich lapel,
Such florets worn by paupers seldom seen—
Lest angels fall from heaven, or rise from hell.
Perhaps the glint of gold makes women blind
To all the faults that moneyed men possess,
Or is it merely that staunch hearts wax kind
To Midas forms sweet Venus failed to bless?
Where in pure love should lucre play a part,
Save bargain blush to paint a paper heart.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 357

What is marriage if not a promise sworn,
Born out of love of one soul for the other;
A union forged to brave all earthly scorn
Where two hearts seal an oath that lasts forever.
Covenants so vowed transcend a mortal death,
There proudly weathering all the scores of time;
Whispered endearments affirmed in final breaths:
‘My sweet, I’ll see you soon in paradise.’
What gift divine to face life hand in hand
And walk together on a journey blessed;
No human passage ever proved as grand
As that which love, in hope and faith profess.
No bond thus formed shall ever know defeat—
Where hearts so joined do make of one complete.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 356

A motley couple they were deemed to be,
In love as strong as any by compare—
Though of that bond no worth could others see
Where eyes did oft in condemnation stare.
Perhaps in different times, a different age,
With love ordained or blessed by greater gods
They might not feel the ire of civil rage
Nor find their caring labeled quaint or odd;
But where does rare love ever find a place
That some convention does not press or bind
And why must human longing plead for grace,
When benediction seems itself half-blind?
Still of their union, none could ever say—
If they were truly happy, or just gay.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 355

What merry music makes the month of May!
Glad songsters singing to each frost-worn ear,
As trees festooned in wedding garlands sway
To choruses of sun’s sweet springtime cheer;
Bright radiant hope bedights a world reborn
While dappling through viridian tinted trees,
There cruel April leaves the stage forlorn—
Rain quickened by a blossom-scented breeze.
The earth resplendent, rising from the grave
To proud hosannas sung in joyful breaths
Bidding farewell to ice-wind-sanctioned knaves,
To end their reign in fervent beauty blessed;
As was the first so shall it be at last:
Salvation shines when mighty shadows pass.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.