Sonnet 466

In times to come inquiring minds may ask,
Who was this woman that could hearts so move
That poets in proud verse devote sweet task
And cast in ink her virtues there to prove?
So was she then as grand as they have deemed
And could she with a smile all eyes so glaze
And did she float through ballrooms like a dream
And with her lilting songs all ears amaze?
I write this truth though lies may rob my sight:
Never was a lovely yet more fair;
Never a purer heart did grace god’s light,
Nary an angel could here so compare.
I swear that though you search ‘til end of time,
No greater beauty ever shall you find.

 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Path of Dreams

The sun did melt into the sea
Under a cranberry sky,
And left ‘neath stars just you and me
With a silvery moon a high.
 
The waves soon danced with tinsel tops
On the deep and purpled blue,
A gloaming cloak around 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 the heart
Along a path of dreams.
 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 465

And was it so that then a mighty land
Replete with swords to raze a world wide;
Prodigious wealth that stood the grandest grand
With ships that sailed wherever rose a tide;
More powerful than Egypt’s lofty height,
Haughtier than regal righteous Rome
And with a reach exceeding Persia’s might—
Raw power there meted from an iron dome.
Contained therein a heart of leaded glass
Reflecting rays of guilt and vanity,
Rejecting truths that empires come to pass
Though laurels litter sands eternally.
They worshipped canons of sage Cleisthenes,
Whose Xipos soon did drop them to their knees.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 464

From precious blossoms was your beauty born,
Heaven scented flowers ablaze with dew
That hailed golden sunshine every morn
And stippled lush green meadows with their hue.
No greater pleasure could yet grace my sight,
Than those blushed pinks that softly bate your skin
Where even yet the fawning of the night,
Pure moon and stars, fair beckon thoughts of sin.
A paragon of Nature without peer
Where every light or shadow may so play
Upon the minds of men to thus endear
Their souls that then their hearts be swept away:
Would that your innocence such power presume;
Proud worlds so vanquished by a single bloom.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Easter 2021

Oh religion’s obsequious eye
To watch o’er all,
That they not stray but yet comply,
Sound edicts to enthrall.
What we once blessed in piousness
Is now much gone;
To grasp of praise on serviced lips
Among the throng.
And now we worship pagan things
That faith may plod;
There goods not gods salvation brings,
Where few are awed
When once we dreamt of righteous might
These dreams now worn,
Yet still for some He rises quite
And hope lives on.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 463

Man has not grown much in a thousand years;
The same old insecurities and strife,
A tale of struggle, glory, smiles and tears
All cast together and with chaos rife;
Each generation reaching to grasp change
Where egos urge advancement on before;
Though gestures, clothes and styles or means may range,
The jealous heart adheres to creeds forsworn.
While constructs of the mind are quick to burn,
And what was right now shadow cast as wrong,
The edicts of the soul are slow to turn
And evil soon drops civil cloaks he’s donned.
Thus what was progress seems decline renamed,
And love and hate stand but as words exchanged.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 462

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 shall so with honor, bid adieu.
You are misled, the words you hear are lies;
I have not once betrayed you, this I swear.
I have not lain betwixt another’s thighs
Nor kissed the lips, nor stroked another’s hair.
You are my life as ever, this and more
And I would die with purpose for your cause;
I live in hope eternity we share,
To join as one beneath the eyes of God.
Yet if you read and still my love you spurn;
It is pure truth, not paper that you burn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 461

I rose from dust and to that dust return,
A child of the universe — no more;
Yet of that grit compounded in what urn
And of what essence was it formed before?
Should I now care from whence these atoms sprang
Or in whose heart they erst did beat and flow?
That they once spawned a thought in tyrant’s brains
Or spent an eon locked in ice and snow?
Were that they came from bits of fallen stars,
For there in truth some 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 my lot.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 460

Then came soft showers to wake the dead terrain —
Marasmic brown long starved of summer’s green;
Ice frozen blank white vestiges remained
As jumbled wreckage strewn about the scene.
That Delphic curtain like a hope blessed shroud
Fair set to soon unveil a risen land,
To baptize every fallen miscreant dowd
That they repent and in salvation stand.
There to behold a living world reborn,
Sweet life praised forth from every hidden lair
Restored by sainted droplets dappled down
Upon that sullen earth, tear stained in prayer.
There from dark loam behold a lily white;
A promise pure of love’s unending light.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.