Sonnet 516

About a manger neath auspicious light
That silver’d o’er a scene of prophecy,
A darkened stable bathed and gilded bright
Bore promise of that which they’d come to see.
The Magi kneeling, ushered by a star,
Or yet perhaps an occultation seen —
So bearing gifts dream fostered from afar
To spread about the newborn savior’s feet.
On Golden hay lay Frankincense and Myrrh,
A preordained nativity vivant;
Dialectic proof of virgin birth,
For no believer ever to recant;
Soft with their silence spoke both ox and ass,
‘The barn is warm and yes, this too shall pass.’

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 515

The lion roared from out his darkened lair
And so the ground beneath me quaked and shook;
My chest reverberating amidst the blare
Resounding forth from out that thorn lined nook.
I saw the jaundice eyes and grimaced mask
The ivory fangs that mirrored dreadful fear,
With every sinew taut as if to ask
If hell would soon unleash upon me there.
My aging double raised in sole defense,
Stark pupils wide, throat dry, all time recessed,
Adrenaline now stoking every sense;
No time to pray or mortal sins confess.
Explode he did from out that fearsome cave,
The rifle bucked with but one soul to save.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 514

No pleasure stirs but what our senses bless,
No thoughts to rise but what our brains conceive;
All tears that fall are at the heart’s behest,
All truth fair told must from the soul precede.
It matters not how we shall bide our days,
With only time to spend what is our lot?
The human form exalts in simple praise,
And cherished bests are things that can’t be bought.
Rapacious hearts can only strive for more
Not knowing less is more and more is less,
And for their mortal trimmings, Gods implore
That they reach heaven’s gates the better dressed.
Naked came I and naked I return,
Content but here to live and love and learn.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 513

My life seems now as ever lived for you;
To thrive or perish in your gentle reign,
You are my beacon and my vessel true
That guides me yet through every joy and pain.
My purposed being lives but for your praise,
In this wide world you are my golden sun
Where I’m content to measure out my days…
For when you sail I know my berth is done.
I have no fear for I have felt your grace
And you have given all my life its’ form,
In silent moments when I scan your  face,
There in that reading, hope and joy rejoin;
No pleasured state could yet such rapture give,
For you are life, and in your realm I live.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 512

For only love shall stand the test of time—
When roses in the lips and cheeks shall die
And sallowness shall then gaunt face embalm,
So wanes the glint that once shone from your eye.
Those sable summer curls will wear fresh snow,
Ice crystals too corrupting jointed bones;
Straight back will bend as burdened by life’s woe
And simple movements mock youth with sad groans.
Still love survives such dread indignities
And warms the heart that winter has made cold,
There summer smiles wax bright with memories
To revel in the light of stories old.
Yes, hand in hand we shall face winter’s rage;
Sweet love the balm all hardship to assuage.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 511

Spine taut on eggshells dogging the gryphon,
Beast deep in trail his span massive spoor;
Spit frozen nano when I sure spied him,
Black umbra boiled in blood curdled roar:
Curt moments later rank Hades exploded
Taut tawny tyrant from darkness aghast
Unleashed like Cerebus’ ire unloaded,
Demon determined that none there shall pass.
Split fraction later my double reported,
Spurt fired brimstone returning his bawl,
Igneous lead from steel barrel ported—
Track stopped the menace to carnage forestall.
Throat rasped, heart pounding, dead splayed at my feet,
Leviathan conquered, quest quarry complete.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 510

Some splash in paint that which I scribe in ink,
Your essence rendered thus: Oh, face so fair!
Should there an eye to gaze or brain to think
Be more or less to claim love’s sweet compare?
Though each to each ensconces what is seen,
Beseeching thus all hearts for wondrous praise:
The soul alone decides which art more keen,
Smile captured in mink strokes or cursive phrase.
The eye is but the gateway to the soul
And words or hues, however there arranged
Engender in the mind a grand tableau—
So neither show by pen or brush estranged.
To me ‘tis clear, your beauty transcends art;
All tributes fail, and so sets you apart.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 509

The cattle know when a storm is coming
And haste retreat into their straw filled barn,
As if a sixth sense had given warning
To seek of refuge in the safe and warm.
The sky, clear blue, showed no inkling of rain,
No thunder rumbled deep in distant hills;
Still in procession to the byre they came
As if on the green they’d gotten their fill.
Then safely ensconced in the piquant dusk
While softly lowing their grateful praise
And carefully nosing the floor fallen husks
For any morsel of forgotten grain.
In the distance a flash of brilliant light—
And again I saw, the cows were right.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 508

I danced with words and they did dance with me
As if upon the grandest ballroom floor,
While in my mind an image clear to see…
Pressed there in arms my peerless paramour;
So lifted high by verse to lofty heights
Then paused in prose, a flawless grand jeté,
A pirouette revealing silken tights,
That risqué flash to every mind waylay;
So lithely swung and sprung and swirled and pranced
Then sashayed bold in lines upon that page,
The denouement uncurled in cursive stance
Emboldening the rhyme upon that stage;
With plume in hand we did so flirt ‘til dawn,
‘Til every drop of lust dipped ink were gone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.