Sonnet 387

Love’s greatest merit lies in constancy,
That simple strength that bests the rot of time
And weathers all the blight there is to be,
Surviving yet the worst of mortal crime;
Believing she will triumph come what may
Despite the darkness damning fortune metes—
In this the truest heart will sure allay
The wretchedness that foul fate accretes.
As morning sun gives hope to savaged earth,
As gentle rain breeds life from barren ground,
As precious souls bestir in hallowed birth,
So in abiding rhythm is truth found.
In measured cadence love plays out its course
Against all odds, though they be blessed or cursed.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 386

Do what you will, and may you bide in shame;
Dishonor every promise ever made,
Let each dear nuptial utterance burn in flame
As you in lust your very worth corrade.
The sweetest angel may yet fall from grace
So may you thrive in second circled hell
Where I forever see your anguished face
Stare up in pain from that infernal well.
Perdition granted, you may take your leave,
Smug Satan waits for you beside the gate —
Loss of true heart your soul may yet bereave;
There is no time to dwell on love or hate.
Go then you must for he now beckons you:
A smile discreet, the devil has his due.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 385

My nighttime muse has left me so it seems
Though passioned fire still smolders in my breast,
While silver moonlight buoys your face in dreams
To taunt my fervor with a visage blessed;
Black alchemy has turned my pen to lead —
What demon dare deny sweet voice of mind?
Where lies that nectar that  proud ardor fed,
What dram shall coax parched lips of praise to rhyme?
I sit in silence swaddled by the night,
No need to lay my thoughts on paper down,
Your spirit dancing with me in my sight
That I entranced will view until harsh dawn;
Yet if my muse is gone, no more to see …
We’ll dance at dusk wherever you might be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 384

Then march forever onward wicked Time,
Carrying the world with you to it’s doom;
And n’er look back upon your vile crimes
As you stride ever forward to your tomb.
May lines of purposed truth your story tell
To chronicle the worth there razed to ruin;
Of good or evil that your blade befell:
Sad effigies of hope lie callous strewn.
Relentless, obligate, cruel, unconcerned
Here always  true unto your tyrant vows,
Determined to destroy, all beauty burned—
Charred relics of the past to but avow.
From forth a fire scoured plain emotes a flower;
‘Midst tears of rain, fair proof of beauty’s power.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.