Sonnet 394

On September 24, 2020September 26, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Thus we embraced as intimates of mind,

In cursive lines each traced the other’s face,

On paper prisms, hearts were rayed in kind

Though never having basked beneath shared gaze.

I fell in love through romanced sight of soul

That rose hand graven from sweet perfumed ink,

By words alone, my love you seemed to know,

And of your kindness, often I did think

How two of separate peace might be so one—

And though imagined, still we spoke in tune

Where every line there written seemed a song

That caused my pride and purpose so to swoon.

Each week a scented letter bore your name;

Until one day on paper—hope lay slain.

Sonnet 393

On September 14, 2020September 27, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

The forward view of life from youth is long,

Bold sanguine sally sure of ample years;

From aged stance, reflection seems a song

That lingers on the lips of those held dear.

Oh how does passing time our brains beguile

Where years to weeks confound, and weeks to days?

Would but the aching length of lover’s miles

Contract to measured inches in these ways!

Time’s wields his power from a stingy throne—

And rarely grants beyond four score and ten

Bequeathing life at best on shackled loan;

A bounty that will not be spent again.

I smile and gaze upon my grandchild’s face

Where love and hope eternal, Time disgrace.

Sonnet 392

On September 14, 2020September 26, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

O where is Sylvia, mystic maid of time

Who for a moment reigned in passion pure?

All eyes to praise her essence, sweet, sublime—

Though few did see that heart of love demure;

I left her last, still naked, ‘neath the moon…

White silken skin bathed in a lustrous light,

Slim arms askew as in a gentle swoon,

Strawberry lips aglow in candlelight;

I exited her chamber duty bound

Not knowing as I closed that shadowed door,

That there my fondest hopes I would impound

And strive in search of love forever more.

Though silver light may bathe dear sylphs in kind—

No peace remains while she still roams my mind.

Sonnet 391

On September 11, 2020September 27, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Would it not bless you more if these dear words

Might linger in the wandering mists of time,

That whomsoever might yet read this verse

Would feel your essence in each scriven line?

Pray they dwell not upon the pen or hand

That writ these lines, save for sweet passion framed,

For yet in truth, a dullard could command

Some lofty phrase in which their love is named.

In simplest sense some may my ardor note

Perhaps remarking, ‘what so drives this soul

To strive with longing lines and there to dote

Upon this mystic maiden words can’t show?’

Here even doubt proves yet my saving grace

‘Mongst knowing souls who’ve gazed on such a face.

Sonnet 390

On September 8, 2020July 8, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Rest now your eyes upon sweet Chanticleer,

That rugged shore where winds and waters greet

Intrepid souls that bear life’s pompous jeers—

Proud dauntless hearts downtrodden in defeat;

‘Tis here you’ll find light balms to wounds assuage

And ever still, sound refuge from the storm,

Though out beyond the lea, fierce battles rage,

This port of heart and hearth shall keep you warm.

Here then lift up a dram to spirits raise,

And hearten so spent voices into song

That in sound verse we bless in righteous praise

This rampart of the soul that I call home.

As long as wind and wave shall kiss this shore—

So bides my essence here — forevermore.

Sonnet 389

On September 2, 2020September 27, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Ah Sylvia, dear nymph of gardens green,

Too soon we’ve squandered all the sweets of night;

Now in the east a rim of gold is seen—

That scimitar which is a lover’s blight;

What pain to have you rise from ‘twixt my arms

To stretch and yawn and shake your sleepy head,

And so to reawaken all your charms—

But in so doing, heighten partings’ dread.

A brief respite with you beneath the stars

Seems but a gift that is pure heaven sent,

No glare of day could ere this image mar

Though memory such may seem as yearnings dreamt.

Daylong I’ll tread as though upon the air,

For fain at dusk, I’ll hold sweet Sylvia fair.

Sonnet 388

On September 2, 2020September 27, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

The golden light of summer’s torch succumbs

Each day retreating more to southern shores;

In steady march, diminishing the sum

Of gilded promise that the springtime bore.

Now leaving darkness longer time to play

With bold Orion stalking through the night

His club upheld in endless search for prey—

With sweet Merope still his guiding light.

So Ursus Major yields to hibernate

As winter’s grip lays siege upon the land

So too does autumn’s burgeoned bounty wait

To fill the cornucopias least and grand.

Thus is it now, and ever may it be;

The sun, the earth, the stars…and you and me.

	Steven on Sonnet 556
	julesbikepoems on Sonnet 404
	Meramolin B. on Sonnet 414
	Thalena on In Black and White
	pairunoyd on A Thought

	Steven on Sonnet 556
	julesbikepoems on Sonnet 404
	Meramolin B. on Sonnet 414
	Thalena on In Black and White
	pairunoyd on A Thought

Loubert S Suddaby poems

Month: September 2020