Sonnet 354

Here now you do appear out of grim air
As if it seems that you did never leave,
Absconded to a place, I know not where—
And I left unaware alone to grieve;
My heart to bleed, fair rent by score so deep
My precious love spilled wide upon the ground
There mingled with the tears no eyes could keep
Where brimmed in pain, they overed and fell down.
What could you fairly say to mend that day
Or heal my ragged cleaved woe rendered breast?
What words or actions could here so defray
That sinful smite no soul could ever rest?
Perhaps you’ve come to relish in my pain
And in so doing, live your joy again.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 353

Sylvia, Sylvia fair, combing down
That twilight hair, in quiet silence there,
No sound; yet in reflective glass is found
In praise beyond compare, no face as fair.
No eyes as bright where with their fetching sight
Do rob with zeal, those precious souls they steal
And hold in grasp so tight, no man can fight
Lest heart be torn in pain he dreads to feel;
Nor should he ask that you his soul unclasp
For no one deigns to ever be set free
From peerless ecstasy, to breathe his last
And drown stone lonely in that plumbless sea.
How many in that boudoir met their end,
Sweet rapture or bleak sorrow to contend?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 352

Once I was a surgeon, yes, long ago….
In hallowed halls sought mysteries of life
Studied the sacred places where blood goes,
And too, the subtleties of hand upon the knife.
I learned that I could not cure all disease
For, like the devil, many forms it takes,
There oft the grandest skill did but appease
For few prevail where love of god forsakes.
As gilded knight I was still proud to serve
And worthy task is not without reward,
From that stern solemn oath I did not swerve
Thus many raging rivers I did ford.
No greater calling than a life to save;
No greater burden than that snake bound stave.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 351

As I gain more upon this mortal age
How do I wish that now my glass would lie,
For still I feel a youth upon life’s stage
Though silver in my beard such truth may try;
The body weathers faster than the mind
Though few upon their youthful style do dwell,
Yet through their bairn may live a second time
Vicarious measures so aged hearts may swell.
The time is long and yet the life is short,
One day a child, the next a wizened man;
As second riddle in the Sphinx’s court
Where each begats of each in endless span.
I search the mirror and find my father’s face
Where, tried of time, he smiles with no disgrace.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.