Friendship

Friendliness is godliness
Or so the story wends;
Where friends may raise
Their voice in praise
All hardship to contend.
When friendships sail
Still hopes prevail
That rifts may make amends,
But many see
In irony
That friend does end in end.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 473

In guilt she told him of our meetings there
Beneath the trees down by the ancient mill;
Long afternoons of summer gave no care
Nor did we heed the keen of whippoorwills.
All love is grand and stolen apples sweet;
To what is blind there add yet deaf and dumb.
No greater joy to rage in lust complete
And in soft arms exalt the rising moon.
Soon we would be together evermore,
So read the note the page boy gave to me;
I dropped that paper softly to the floor
Then swiftly packed the things that I would need.
I did not hear him knock the fatal dart —
Nor did I feel the iron pierce my heart.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 472

Time eats away the body as a blight,
Sapping man’s strength and corporal legacy;
Clouding his truths and making day his night
Til’ he reposes to eternity.
What then to say but he was flesh and blood,
Mere mortal clay unto the earth returned;
Here heaven blessed, he did but what he could
And of that reach, his gloried quest lay spurned;
Damned to that cavernous cave as feast for grubs,
Corporeal worth saponified to slime,
Vanquished by vermin, ah, now there’s the rub,
All proffered prayers quite mired well in grime.
Yet of my span though it be short or long,
You are my hope and your sweet love my song.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 471

When gods do give the choice of blade or pen
Some choose keen edge for glint of gloried steel,
Where hubris hails the vice of haughty men
To take with force what merit will not yield.
There some use ink o’er blood to feed their rage
And fight to raise the flag they choose to bear,
In tenets sure inequity assuage
Abetting cause in tempered logic clear.
Of swords and stylos good and evil sway
And who stands right or wrong oft points of view,
Where gritted time abrades and wears away
The sheen that purposed credence once imbued.
Though despots scheme believing might is right,
They best not men who know that right is might.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 470

Now madness, madness, madness rules the land,
The sun burns hotter than it has before;
Mighty glaciers weep at their last stand
As evil tempests eat away the shore.
Entire species fade into the night,
What erst was green lays razed beyond repair,
The brightest stars concede to urban blight,
And yellow skies now rule once sovereign air.
A devil that can best the plague of plagues
Holds now the world wide within his grasp
And clenching with a zealot tyrants’s rage
Seems set to have the earth breathe out its last.
At dusk the skyline rages red with sin,
As Nero’s strains hang heavy in the wind.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 469

I cannot truly say when love ran dry,
When I no longer yearned for your sweet sight;
When thoughts of you no more did make me sigh
And I no further craved your warmth at night.
What blade did bleed me of that crimson red
And blanched staunch heart that ever beat for you?
How can bright bliss yet slowly dim to dread
And death’s eternal night seem long past due?
The summer’s sun fair greats us every morn
And at it’s zenith, shadows bid adieu,
Yet in the evening when his court adjourns
His light there fails and darkness then ensues.
So love may fade and lovers drift apart —
For what survives the gloaming of the heart?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 468

I did profess to love her more than life
There to embrace love’s fealty ‘til death,
By God’s sweet grace she would become my wife
To live in praise until my final breath.
That heart of hearts there did with love subtend
Each mortal action and each holy prayer;
My lover true and yet my dearest friend
Regaled in beauty bright beyond compare.
But drunk with youth and ever more the cad,
Perhaps a brighter bloom just o’er the hill,
Another floret plucked to make more glad,
Another nosegay on a coxcomb’s frill.
A fool of fools, I wandered far and wide
To but recross where love and honor died.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.