Sonnet 427

Rich diamonds glittered on that blank white robe
Where coppice spots like ermine tails did stain,
So draped on fields there edged and trimmed by groves
To reminisce of regal mantle trains.
It folded o’er the shoulders of the hills
Where streams ran down like gilded ribbons bright
And like a brooch, a distant water mill
Did bind together all that raiment right.
So with that blazoned cloak did Winter stride
To mark his rule upon the vanquished land,
Gelid vassals in quietude decried
The cruel purpose of his cold command.
Yet serfs stayed silent, bearing yet his sting—
Fair knowing what the equinox would bring.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 426

Here in fond hope this rhyme shall bring you fame:
No beauty from the past can rival you;
Only the hand that strives might bring you shame
Through ragged lines that he did here roughhew;
Yet whosoever writes does matter not
Save that his pen stay true to virtue named,
Nor shall a lovely gain when overwrought
For then, of question, lies all worth proclaimed.
Thus in pure truth no woman stands more blessed
By female grace in all its mortal forms,
Of this perfection, here I so address
That you not bide unto poetic norms.
Beauties of the past by gilded words be known,
But scrived in forthright lines, you stand alone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 425

Where are they now, my ever present friends,
Now that my measured fortune sadly wanes;
Is this how bonhomie shall make amends—
Reproach that damns sodality to shame?
What of those bonds once lauded in proud praise;
By gloating guild so honored for all time,
Disparaged now by eyes that fail to raise
Where loss of lucre rivals heinous crime?
To be renamed the brotherhood of purse
Might yet reclaim some honor in rebuff
And so proclaimed, could never thus do worse
With dubious virtue salvaged from rank chuff.
Twice crushed, both chum and chattel gone;
God willing, I shall buy them back anon.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 424

There was sadness when he passed, and too, relief:
That tortured soul set free from earthly bounds;
His visit to this world, by all counts, brief,
His exit there quite shy of fifty rounds.
My mother, still of prime took it quite hard
Though knowing he, of choice was was doomed to be;
With mouths to feed, few means and little lard,
Fate cast her hapless on a savage sea.
She drew her bairn to breast and made her way;
I never knew what stayed her guiding star…
Of love and hope that would not bend or fade,
Gave every measure to outflank the bar.
No truer brace of love have I yet known —
Those gentle hands that wrung sweet life from stone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 423

Centuries from now bright eyes may stare amazed
At cryptic  words they cannot comprehend
As Napoleon’s grenadiers once stood bemused
By Coptic etchings strafed in Nubian winds;
Perhaps of curiosity alone
They do decipher markings now unbound
And raise from dark obscurity to known
Strange writings that did every eye confound.
So from the past, a lyric lost in time,
A yearning deep that they may understand,
An earnest proffer locked in passioned rhyme,
Keen human ardor, stirred from slumbering sand.
If love still thrives, they might there muse and guess,
Of troth so bold, what could she say but yes.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 422

What homage lies in graven granite stone,
Rough hewn with polished words to hail a life,
Where creeping vines shall cover yet anon,
Obscuring barren peace with verdant strife?
The grit of time will every marker grind
Into that sand whereof all life is made;
And vandals may there topple yet in time,
Thus so abetting brashness to abrade.
What monolith may mark an eon’s end
Extolling there all touted tribute named,
In hieroglyphs such mortal worth commend
With reach beyond this given world proclaimed?
Despite proud yearnings, every being must
Consign to fate, and so concede to dust.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 421

That gentle love might rise from savage lust:
Confounded action ever rife with blame;
Illicit passion, rare to ever trust
For when endeavored, often leads to shame.
There of abandon when that beast is fed
And souls in quiet contemplation lie
To craft whereof that sated beast be led;
For soon grey dawn will break the blackened sky.
Though fervent flames will end in ridden ash,
Of rare therein a lonely coal may glow
And draw upon some unseen hidden cache
Of buried fuel pure fondness may bestow;
Still like a flamelet can appear true love,
Redemption bright from trespassed ruin thereof.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 420

We are not blind yet seldom do we see
The true exquisite beauty of the rose
Self made from humble soil yet grown to be
The sweetest of the sweets a garden knows.
How can that flower from earthen dust distill
The darling perfume of a nose so rare
That it be borne by hand to love instill
As if a scent infused with heaven’s air?
So apt thereto a symbol thus of love
Where though it may enthrall us at first sight
Can long be borne by heaven’s grace above
As any token blessed by living light.
So of these thoughts, fortuity be known,
With eyes unschooled, I picked you for my own.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 419

Like a painted madam clutching trickling sand
So does your beauty’s desperation show,
That grimaced gargoyle of a face once grand,
Long ravaged by club smoke and cheap Bordeaux.
Cosmetic primers there of lines disguise
What surgeons’ steel could never quite defeat;
Those battle scars that erst did age belie,
Once scrived in blood, now plied with rouge complete.
What truth remains in that mendacious mirror
Where dreams of triumphs past lay glazed by time;
You raise your brow to make that sculpture lear
And sadly so now mock your out worn prime.
What of those many swains your mien did rule…
That Queen of Hearts, now but a jester’s fool.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

I Held Her Hand

I held her hand
She turned and kissed my cheek
And all felt grand
My heart did leap and knees felt weak
I held her hand
 
I held her hand
With tear brimmed eyes she answered yes
No happier man
Stood on this earth I must confess.
 
I held her hand
Her eyes did open and she smiled
Her fingers fanned
Then squeezed mine tight, sweet newborn child.
 
I held her hand
And walked her down the aisle so proud
Another stands
To love her always there so vowed.
 
I held her hand
Another babe with eyes so bright
In joy commands
Her grandsire’s gaze to glow with light.
 
I held her hand
And said goodbye to my pure love
And all felt grand
For soon we meet again above
I held her hand.
 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.