Month: April 2021

Sonnet 467

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What then of vice or virtue loudly claimed?
Each act of man oft marked by sought-for ends,
And in such aims see verity defamed
As conscience crafts the guise that guilt defends.
To dress a wrong in right seems falsehood clear
Yet hearts may denounce lies with veiled intent,
Where reason swayed may boast of candor’s sphere,
And gilded guile stride forth in confidence.
All proof, when tried, is rarely wholly true
For that deemed white oft bears a tinge of grey,
Perhaps ‘tis best to judge by what we do
Not take mere words as gospel when we weigh.
Where reason bends to shadows darkly wrought,
There rarely gleams a truth as bright as sought.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 466

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
In times to come inquiring minds may ask,
Who was this maiden that could hearts so move;
That poets in proud verse’s exalted task
Would cast in ink her virtues there to prove?
Was she indeed as stunning as was claimed,
That with her smile did leave each eye amazed?
Did she grace gilded ballrooms like a dream
And with her lilting songs lift hearts in praise?
I write this truth though lies may strike me blind:
No world has seen a lovelier more fair;
Never a purer soul has stood more grand,
Nor could a seraph here with her compare—
I swear that though you search till end of time,
No nobler vision shall your searching find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Path of Dreams

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The sun did melt into the sea
Under a cranberry sky,
And left ‘neath stars just you and me,
Bright silver moon on high.
The waves soon danced with tinsel tops
On violet purpled blue,
Grey gloaming cloaks upon us dropped
And chilled us through and through.
But arm in arm we cozied warm
And mourned the passing sun,
Of scenes like this is sweet love born
Where yearning hearts form one.
Now oft when lost in quiet thought
I see the sky that day
And all the joy its magic wrought,
That moment by the bay.
I see that love plays but a part
In still much grander schemes,
Celestial forces draw true hearts
Along a path of dreams.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 465

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Was it not so, that once a mighty land
Surfeit with swords to raze the world aside;
Prodigious wealth that stood the grandest grand,
Tall-ships that sailed wherever rose a tide;
More powerful than Egypt’s lofty heights,
Haughtier than regal righteous Rome
And with a reach exceeding Persia’s might—
Did rule in fraud from ‘neath an iron dome.
Contained therein a heart of leaded glass
Projecting rays of guilt and vanity,
Rejecting truths that empires come to pass
—Though icons litter sands eternally.
They worshipped canons of sage Cleisthenes,
Whose Xipos blade soon dropped them to their knees.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 464

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
From precious blossoms was your beauty born,
Of heaven-scented flowers adorned with dew
That hailed golden sunshine every morn
And stippled lush green meadows with their hue.
No fairer vision ever graced my sight,
Than those blushed pinks that softly grace your skin
Where every sanctifying velvet night,
‘Neath moon and stars, embolden thoughts of sin.
A paragon of Nature without peer
Where every light or shadow can so play
Upon the minds of men to thus endear
Their souls, until their hearts be swept away.
Would that your innocence such power assume:
Vast worlds so conquered by a single bloom.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Easter 2021

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Oh religion’s obsequious eye
To audit all,
That they not stray but yet comply,
Edicts to thrall.
What we once blessed in piousness
Is now much gone;
To glaze like praise on lips rehearsed
Among the throng.
And now we worship pagan things,
That cross seems odd;
Where goods, not gods, salvation brings,
By gold—we’re awed
When once we dreamt of righteous might
These dreams seem worn,
Yet still for some, He rises bright,
And Hope drags on.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 463

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Man has not altered in a thousand years;
The same old insecurities and strife,
A tale of struggle, glory, smiles and tears
All thrown together—mixed with chaos rife;
Each generation striving for broad change
Where egos urge advancement on before;
Though gestures, clothes and styles or means may range,
The id still clings to jealous creeds foresworn.
While constructs of the mind are quick to burn,
And what was right now cinder cast as wrong,
The once eschewed, now boldly here return,
As primal hearts shed civil cloaks they’ve donned.
Thus what was progress seems decline renamed,
And love and hate, by need, stand interchanged.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 462

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Though flame may yet destroy these lines I write—
Please read them that you know my love is true ;
Then torch them if you still mistrust me quite
And I, with honor, still shall bid adieu.
I have not once betrayed you—this I swear:
You are misled; those words you hear are lies;
I kissed no lips, nor stroked another’s hair,
Nor have I lain betwixt another’s thighs.
You are my life; as ever, this and more
And I would die with sureness for your cause;
I live in hope—eternity we share,
To join as one beneath the eyes of God.
If this you read and still my love you spurn;
Know it is truth, not paper, that you burn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 461

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I rose from dust and to that dust return,
A child of the universe — no more;
Yet of that grit compounded in some urn—
There of what essence was it formed before?
Should I now care from whence my atoms sprang
Or in whose own heart they once did beat and flow—
That they once spawned a thought in tyrant’s brains
Or spent long eons locked in ice and snow?
If they were cast from bits of fallen stars,
Then there some piece of Heaven I might claim—
That purposed plan, not arcane force afar
Had hand in molding clay that bears my name.
From dust, from ash, from earth, it matters not;
Wherefrom, whereto, whereof, or what’s my lot.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 460

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Then came soft showers to cleanse the dead terrain—
Parched earth laid bare, bereft of summer’s green;
Gaunt wasted corpses still the field did stain,
A jumbled wreckage strewn across the scene.
A dossal curtain like a hopeful shroud
Hung poised to soon reveal a risen land;
And holy waters, scattered on the crowd,
Called each lost soul to rise and make a stand.
There to behold a living world reborn,
Sweet life upraised from every hidden lair
Restored by sainted drops so lightly worn
Upon that sullen earth, tear-soaked in prayer.
There from dark loam behold a lily white—
God’s promise pure of love’s unending light.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.