Month: January 2021

Sonnet 441

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The raven rides on wings of ebony
His blackened breath to tarnish heaven’s air,
That ragged blight that skyward eyes oft see,
Called by foul fate to feed on death’s despair.
So damned, this symbol dour of dark macabre
Brings thus unto the world a visage grim,
Stark images of ruin and corpses gnawed,
Tableaux of Hell in lurid shadow limned.
A devil’s angel so beset on earth
As clever yet as any that gained flight,
Swoops down on hearts where blessed hope is dearth
And where no flower of joy may e’re see light.
Oh bird of doom! Leave now that graven shrine
Wherein but lies the dearest heart divine!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 440

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What can we say of love, but it sustains
In shrouding darkness and in hailing light;
Where all else fails, she as a truth remains
And shines a beacon in the blackest night.
Love is the hope that guides man on his way
And marks his path with purpose, clear and rare;
Of love’s grand scope, no words can truly say—
Though strive we may in poems, hymns and prayer.
No life more proudly lived than one in love,
No greater blessing yet has God bestowed;
Pure light eternal cast from heav’n above,
To warm the mortal heart when blood runs cold.
Oft happiness seems bound to earthly things—
No greater bliss exceeds what true love brings.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 439

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
So when benevolence shall grace a king
To cast aside the burden of his crown,
In guilty supplication thus to bring
Some wise redemption sought to earn renown;
A noble thought that downtrod serfs be raised
There to rejoice—his moral worth secured,
Where he of shameful power, now erased,
Is then by rule of Heaven set assured.
Proud sov’reign blessed, by charity undone,
Vanquished as surely as in battle lost—
For every righteous law that’s once begun,
Bestows its bliss though Hell be but the cost.
Once Lord of guilt, now pride’s forsaken Fool,
Held there in chains by those he once did rule.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 438

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What of proud reason where we see ourselves
Not as we are, but as we feign to be;
From simple truth our better judgement delves,
Where, once discerned, might drop us to the knee.
While in the harshest light of morning’s glass
We groom and gild that image we behold,
But of our inward self cannot, alas,
Have any vision of that truly told.
Here blind awareness reft of simple truth,
Feeds on vain flattery or jaundiced claim
And molds the forms that vanity pursues,
Then christens them with virtue’s borrowed name.
Blessed by a mirror, outward truth appraised,
But of the soul—what insight is dispraised?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Seasons of You

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

 

The winter lives in blacks and whites
The spring in pinks and blues,
The summer in warm green delight
The autumn, golden hues;
In you I see all rays of bright
And yet soft shadows too,
You wear proud colors day and night 
And every season through!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Kaleidoscope Dreams

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I kissed you in slumber my love
When happy in dreams you did roam
With stars all a twinkling above
You made a slight tremulous moan
I stroked your dark hair and you smiled
The smile of a siren at sea
Your visage a darling sweet child’s
I pondered on where you might be
Where do you sojourn my dearest
When moonlight soft swaddles your bed
There shines your innocence clearest
As somewhere in dreamland you tread
Wish upon hope I could join you…
Magnificent castles in air
A shining gold carriage for two
Would jauntily carry us there
Alone in a magical garden
In joy I would break into song
And praising in poetry ardent
I’d sweet serenade you ‘til dawn
At sunrise when you awaken
Sure no one knows where we’ve been
A wink will make your heart quicken
As there of veiled memories you glean
And so in moonlight when sleeping
May I gently take your soft hand
To join you in reveries fleeting
And dance in kaleidoscopes grand!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 437

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Cold tears of winter fall from off my sill
As frozen eaves the risen sun derides,
Retreating snows meander into rills
Conceding ground from which fresh blooms arise.
So sweet the perfume in the zephyrs’ arms,
So soft the blush of nascent forest leaves,
Delightful more, idyllic woodland charms,
While vernal songsters revel on the breeze.
‘Tis now as ever thoughts will turn to love
And so of you this primrose promise sings—
The harmonies of angels from above
Whose vestal strains give all life’s spirits wings.
I see you here in each form hope commends…
A world bestirred by love that never ends.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 436

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Your eyes burn fierce with Cleopatra’s fire,
Your lips the sweetness Paris strove to claim,
Your will eclipses Caesar’s proud desire,
Your passion’s blaze makes empires fall to flame;
No storied torch of ages holds your light
Which shines more bright than Layla’s kindled cause,
Or Pyramus undone to fated sight
Of Thisbe’s veil draped in the lion’s jaws.
No love more real, no fervor more profound,
No moment of desire could be as grand,
No truer heart by fate was ever bound,
No knight more bold has ever made this stand.
I pledge my life to you forevermore—
Where proved untrue, there put me to the sword.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 435

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
At times I write and poetry absconds,
Light lilting lines that long to wander free;
The pen proclaims its phrases must belong
Unto some heavy hackneyed harmony.
While paltry poets daub their verse as prose,
Like children scrawling past their measured line,
The crux of any cogent ode composed
Is keeping rhyme where form and sense entwine.
This is the timeless challenge of the bard
To have his rune perform as patterned dance
Where every chosen word in that regard,
Through artistry, does imagery enhance.
But let me pose…a thought is still a thought,
Though writ by fools, and when it rhymeth not!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.