Month: March 2021

Sonnet 459

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Of all the lines I’ve written in my hour,
By hope alone, these private thoughts engage
That gentle soul within your silent bower,
As you scan tear-stained lines upon this page.
For me you best define what true love is,
In times of passion and in perilous doubt—
When all seemed lost, your tender love gave bliss,
And sweet impromptu smiles cast shadows out.
Without your essence, what would life then be?
A sad procession of worn, worried days,
A storm-tossed journey through cloud-shrouded seas
In quest of honors false and hollow praise?
I penned this to the rhythm of my heart—
Two souls lockstep in love, that never part.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 458

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
How clever is the hare whose coat will change
To suit the seasons as they come and go,
So matching colors to the shifting range,
A cunning cloak which fate itself unfolds.
In spring a mottled blend of brown and white
And summer’s best, a blush of chestnut hues;
Autumn’s dress fades soft to winter’s blight—
Yet what to don—and by whose silent cues?
This costumed garb so staged in broad intrigue,
Its clever purpose clear of wit designed
To outfox those who cannot see the need
Of vestments worn to make fate’s course align.
Transmuting raiments for another’s eyes—
Much like a mistress in this wily guise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 457

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Raw tension in the east marks his return,
Rude, radiant, replete with sovereign grace;
Bright gaze of fire where every shadow burns
Or slinks away from that bold, fearsome face.
A god before whom mighty Egypt bowed,
Where burdened backs raised sepulchers of stone
So haughty kings might rest forever proud
In grandest tombs the world has ever known—
So rises now the glory and the power,
Raised scimitar of gold to smite the land,
His burning glare and galvanizing glower
To animate all minions—meek or grand.
Ascension granted daily without strife—
The uncontested emperor of life.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 456

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Now on her tender bosom rests my cheek
And lo, the drum beat of sweet life I hear,
That sound that says love waits not for the meek—
All triumph stems from deeds of those who dare.
Could she but know my dreams are hers to bless,
Or that my hopes reach to the moon on high;
That I would die here for her happiness,
That for her favor, I would ever vie?
All is lost— anon she weds another—
Dark hours draw near to crush my helpless soul.
Could she yet have the strength to flout her father
And run with me,not knowing where we go?
The morning sun now gathers in the east…
And crowns unbridled love with one last test.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 455

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Blessed are the meek whom hope alone sustains,
Content to grace life’s stage a pauper’s hour,
Who’s measured time marks little progress gained
As creeping vines upon a steeple tower.
Rough heather on the meads, that mauvish blight
Fair spreads across the heath to reach beyond,
As if a flower and weed were fused in plight,
Through some ignoble mix, a peasant’s lawn.
Long after daffodils have met their doom,
The foxgloves and the bluebells fade to green,
And sweets once hailed from nature’s lavish womb
Have lost their promise and since fled the scene;
Here yet the humble heather lives and breathes,
Where flowers decay and bouquet seekers grieve.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 454

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I have felt the slings of Fortune’s might,
His crooked knife plunged deep into my side;
The venom spewed from his black-mouthed spite
Devised to taint all minds with poison plied.
I have seen him light false fires of hope
To lead brave reinforcements far astray
And battered men in grim surrender grope
For mercy—while their pleading found no stay.
Still I survived and not the worse it seems—
Nay, wiser more, though long the gauntlet lashed;
For oft scorned virtue, in the end redeems
Whatever wicked lies false tongues have passed.
Mark well how Fortune hides her treacherous guise—
To deck her wrongs in virtue’s borrowed prize.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 453

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Now she is gone, and I sit here alone,
With little more than anguish left to ponder;
No abject rancor searing to the bone,
Embattled wills shall try our souls no longer.
I am not saddened—no, not sad at all;
This feeling much akin to truce in war:
A muted comfort that no blood should fall.
A peace now won, but still no reckoned score.
Yet solace is a gift not to be shunned,
Mute quietude a refuge spirits seek
Where wounded souls’ dark depths remain unplumbed,
May yet be sounded, whether blank or bleak;
And so in silence I now sit and muse:
Detente in love seems more a loss we choose.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 452

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I traveled on a shooting star one day
And saw massed souls all thronging heaven’s gate;
Wrought iron bars secured that pearly way,
Their steepled spires loomed tall in silent wait.
The grounds lay littered thick with crumpled prayers
High piled in mounds against broad golden walls,
And yet beyond the gilded confines there
The edifice stood dark beneath a pall.
The keeper of the keys could not be seen—
A dozen shuttered gates stood past that door;
At lower heights were scrawled some words obscene
And near the crowd, a toppled pulpit form.
I wondered as I rode that stellar span,
If but the landlord cut his loss and ran.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 451

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Sweet Selena, I see you have returned,
Your silken smile to light the forest bright;
Perhaps you knew each day my heart has yearned,
Each clouded evening, longing for your sight.
I watch that point above the distant trees
Where you appear much like a cresting sail—
Proud ship of joy come home on scented breeze,
Hope buoyed delight, dear lover’s arms to hail.
Your visage pale above the velvet dark,
Ascending slowly on the purple air
With mien of gilded empress you embark
Upon your journey to some kingdom fair.
I bask in twilight silvered by your grace…
Soft burnished beams that do my soul embrace.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.