Sonnet 404

I spilled a cup of words on paper down

And watched them creep across from line to line,
I marveled how they made no single sound
Until my pen did stir them into rhyme;
And there at once they did begin to sing
Creating so the sweetest imaged tunes
And to my fancied vision thus did bring
A cabaret of song, my soul to swoon;
There pleasured musings in my mind did play,
And heart did join the chorus of their song,
My eyes the dancing phrases did amaze
Enthralled by wonder, my spirit danced along.
From time to time I grasp a lonely pen,
There splash some words and make them sing again.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 403

As a great metaphor through prismed minds

So often are the rays of truth portrayed;
Where each to each has visions of one kind
Though disparate such colors be arrayed. 
The visioned content of veracity
Is well dependent on which eyes there view,
Oft bolstered more by voiced tenacity
Of tenets held, that they not be impugned.
For what of hope where one sees black, one white;
The presence of all hues or none the same,
Or complicating matters, yet the blight
Of sight clear seen but knowledge quite disclaimed.
Few eyes know fact since man first gained a tongue,
Since of opinion, each to clutch his own.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 402

A poem, too beautiful for minds to hold;
I would not quell it thus to memory—
For then the essence of first wonder bold
Be lost unto familiarity.
What shame then to so damn a beauty rare
To simply have it hence at beck and call
And drag it from the rote in fond compare,
So dulling ears that gods could not enthrall.
Let those sweet words remain on parchment brown
Perchance to catch an eye yet knowledge blind,
Or for my sight to simply scan anon
And raise in poignancy, dear thoughts to mind. 
From time to time as not to wear the rhyme,
Enjoy the wonder of a song sublime.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 401

One glorious night of heaven did entreat
My fancy to a walk beneath the stars,
Full rising moon of silver beams replete
Whose magic essence mesmerized the moors;
I looked up to that dome of diamonds bright
Where constellations twinkled tales of yore
And traced imagined etchings, light to light,
All named menageries my memory bore.
There faces of the gods looked down on me
‘Midst creatures of the past now locked in time,
But in one corner, east, above a tree
I saw your face marked out in points sublime;
Apt asterism of the one I love,
Celestial worth the gods alone to prove.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 400

Come dance with me, Selena dance with me
And we will all our love the world here prove,
With heartfelt songs and foot light liberty
As with our spirits may our bodies move.
Here let me swing you high and dip you low
Then draw you close and whisper in your ear
And whirl you ‘round as arm and arm we go
Now spire you up to show we have no fear.
Let’s spin away the night and moon and stars,
Cicada calls and tunes of nightingales
Shall be our simple homespun orchestras
Until the eastern skies begin to pale;
And love soft ever as the velvet night,
So fade as one into the morning light.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 399

Were I but yet the pitch-dark crow that files
Or yet a plain drab beetle on the ground,
A golden eagle that ascends on high
Or Yeti crab upon an ocean mound;
Here still the blood of life would course my veins
Imbuing so an essence old as time
Thus where on high or yet below the main
I share a bond that no soul can decry.
A life is still a life though great or small
And though our bonds be knit by narrow strands;
Whether we run, fly, slither, swim or crawl,
All grace born of four letters in the sand.
So if these brethren vanish, n’er to see —
How ever lonely would our planet be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 398

Blaze autumn leaves illumine things I know
But none more poignant than of passing time;
That every living thing the earth bestows
Enjoys at best a closely measured prime.
The peak of man, a many seasoned reign
Much longer than the sway of scented flower
But still his pleasured essence sure to wane
And with the dregs of time so rests his hour.
What can one do but yet enjoy the bloom
That is here granted by that unseen hand;
For none it seems rejoice within the tomb
Save worms which scriptured  orders countermand.
Thus what rings true of that beyond the grave,
Does here and now fair best a promise staid?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 397

You search your glass for shadowed yesterday
But now, of sadness, nothing can you find;
Who is that woman in the mirror you say,
Of looks so wan, pale colors worn by time?
Lackluster eyes now stare as hope bereft
On that aged rose whose petals, lost and lorn
Once graced the gardens of the fashioned best
As many gilded arms they vain adorned.
Where is that precious fragrance, where the bloom
That lured the many like drab wings to flame?
Where lies the essence that could light a room,
That tigress presence taunting to be tamed?
So stands no greater force to humble pride
Than anguished musings of when beauty died.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 396

We shared a pen as though a common voice,
For many miles did bar the touch of hand;
On sight of letter so did heart rejoice 
As sure as gaining gifts from foreign lands.
I checked the post on nearly every morn
There all sweet joy presumed on paper white
And read aloud in tones to words adorn,
Your sprightly visage dancing in my sight;
As ways led to new ways and ardor waned,
The sun arose each day and birds did sing,
Thin bonds of ink that distance fairly strained 
Seemed faded as wan visions they would bring.
It isn’t that I had no more to say
But simply that my life got in the way.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 395

Now there is nothing left in life for me,
All sweetness gone, no, nothing but dry pith;
And rare the nectar where tight grip does see

Blanched knuckles and strained ruddiness of face.
I gave my all, yea pushed it to the edge,
Proud legacy replete with battles won,
‘Gainst rising rancor so did build a hedge
And lay in siege of better days to come;
But no detente, and surely no retreat,
There dark discord did lay that gauntlet down —
Better here sweet death than sour defeat,
At least the field with bitter blood be sown.
So mighty titans did in combat rage:
No win; no loss; destruction but their gauge.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.