Month: January 2021

Sonnet 434

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Soft pink blushed clouds and skies of baby blue,
Sun kissed of rose, the crests of distant trees;
Sweet feathered warblers croon fair loves to woo
While cherub buds do sway upon the breeze.
The last of winters’ blight dissolves in tears
That join in silver rivulets trickling down;
Of denizens delight, the forest cheers
As vernal togs prim bashful floras don.
So is it now as it once ever was
The never ending constancy of change,
As when it seems that everything is lost—
There stands a bloom to yet of hope upraise;
I fare in faith, whatever life may bring,
For you my flower stay redolent of spring.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 433

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Sweet love remembered, silent tears do fall
Upon my breast wherein that heart you hold,
While muted murmurs stalk the vacant hall
And whisper in the hearth that now lies cold.
Oh love more rare than any love may be:
A moment held, and in a moment gone,
And of such loss, despair to ever see,
Eternal aching left to me alone.
For but a second yet to hold your hand,
To kiss those lips in pleasure more sublime,
To hold you in my arms in rapture grand—
Perchance I’ll be forgiven yet in time.
One line of this perhaps, I pray you’ll  read,
And crush my heart or yet grant me reprieve.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 432

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Am I a fool believing you are true
When my heart whispers oft it is not so;
A slave to love and virtue through and through
And yet, of truth, still question where you go.
Your frequent absence stirs a doubt in me,
Your explanations ever seem contrived,
As if you think that I am blind to see
That sophistry our sacred bond derides.
Why can you not say love for me is gone?
Why must we play this soulless sad charade?
Why should we labor when love’s work is done?
Why here yet kneel when every hope is prayed?
‘Tis best you leave me now, our hearts unbind,
And we in honest purpose, soulmates find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 431

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Long having labored in an abstruse art,
One that did not ever fully feed my soul;
Still as a lordly minion did my part
And in sound measure surely played my role.
I mentored to the lame, the sick, the blind
And with keen blade I fought their dragons well;
Though everyday I did assuage their pain,
Of what lay vanquished, I could seldom tell.
While oft my passage lay in praise replete
I was still haunted by my failings there;
Of demons vile that I could not defeat
And of cruel carnage that did mete despair.
The path we choose is rare of reasoned rhyme:
Perhaps I will forgive myself in time.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 430

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What laurels lie in polished flattery
Exceeding proper bounds of human praise,
When eyes there called upon can surely see
Bold in-congruencies on casual gaze?
If so, then all the puffery I say
Would thus be deemed to be of doubtful truth
And were sound judgement ever so to play,
Though ears might hear, all tongues would say forsooth!
Then of your beauty, I shall understate
And of your grace, in passing, I might tell;
Of slight suggestion minds exaggerate,
Right tendered words can so by thought excel.
Of acclamation thus, I show restraint:
A few choice words, grand images can paint.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 429

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I write the best of you by candle light
When evenings shadows swaddle me in warmth,
Light stippled skies do hint of heaven bright
And fires’ fading gold lies in the hearth.
‘Tis then I sit alone in peace and pride
And dwell upon sweet images of you,
Of beauty strong that time cannot deride
And of a love that stays forever true.
In reverent silence while you sleep above
I murmur softly there that precious name
That unto tears can so my heart yet move
And silver down dear memories as rain.
No sweeter gift did god yet give to me
Than your dear love, which ever cherished be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 428

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The passing of a year exalted thus,
A death rejoiced, in merriment proclaimed
As if a dreaded tyrant fallen was,
By his demise a celebration named.
So are we now declaring Time undone,
As though in joy his reckless onslaught cease;
Another circuit ‘round that haughty sun,
How many transits bring life to its’ knees?
Wherein lies hope within this revelry
When every passing year brings much the same?
And though we dream of providence to see,
Of equal stake, damnation there to claim:
Yet good or bad, whatever comes to pass,
On thoughts of you, I’ll ever raise a glass.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.