Month: April 2022

April Adjunct

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The birds now build a nest
And milk comes to the breast
The world moves on and I
Bemoan the by and by
The bees buzz on the air
The fox prepares his lair
The proud hawk floats on high
As tears rise to the eye
Pert buds sway on the trees
Sweet songs waft on the breeze
The whippoorwills apprise
Of some soul’s near demise
Puff clouds move gently on
And soon the spring is gone
No good to wonder why
I look at you and sigh

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 542

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
There is no scalpel edge, no well honed word
That cuts more deeply than incisive hate,
That splays the flesh unto its beating core—
There drawing scars to bear to heaven’s gate.
There is no venom that could injure so
Where but a single drop could legions raze;
No piercing eyes to run the very soul
As found within that vicious rapier gaze.
What demon now does your gaunt form possess
Where here I see the skull conform the skin,
Those bony fingers that the mace now grasps
Foul set to bludgeon with your fang gaped grin.
Would I have yet been blessed to see that curse—
Or more to heed, ‘for better or for worse’.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 541

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
So was he venerated there in death
By jealous lips that now defied all bounds,
Where by extolling merit, baned in breath—
Paid homage to their own gilt lofty sounds.
Speaking loudly as though a ledger read
Some bombast of adulterated praise,
Yet soon refined, on granite to be set
To crown the hallowed plots of further graves.
They did not care for him in his brief life
Save for his lauded portion of the sun
That so out shone their light of murky strife,
Or dulled the music of smug songs they’d sung.
Here still to claim some virtue of the man
Where words of him yet to themselves commend.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 540

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I held the world ransom with my pen
Daring that I would soon reveal its sins,
And bring rank faults unto the scathing scan
Of every eye that staunchly truth defends.
The world laughed and said “you silly boy,
You are of lowly birth, what can you prove
Amid the throng, who hears a lonely voice
That ever could dark hearts of stone so move?”
“You’re right,” I said, “alone I still remain—
But every line begins by single word,
And words to words beget a swelling strain,
So sung by lips of truth ‘til all is heard.
There is no greater lever held by man—
So heed my quill, and ‘give me where to stand’.”

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 539

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What thin-dimensioned art could herald you,
You whose sovereign grace no bounds contain?
Beheld by sight or weighed by virtue true,
No scale nor depth your worth could yet explain.
No sculpture, portrait or fine script borne praise
Could ever mark your poise—nor any song
Sung here by angels heralding heaven’s grace,
Might hail that sacred place where you belong.
No hand of man—or still, what hand of God?
Save He who blessed your pilgrimage to earth
Could frame a work all demigods applaud—
Where sure no mortal born could here besmirch.
Ethereal in scope, what art dare read;
As every eye that stares will so concede.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 538

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The world is now too full of self, it seems,
Material creeds now worshiped like the sun;
Where pride, disguised as virtue, boldly deems
The rights of many serve the will of one.
No point of view may counter that which is—
And that which is now, a point of view,
Designed to lock all doors where freedom lives
And give the wicked, license to pursue.
What once was right now ever seeming wrong—
What once was white now shades of ashen grey,
All truth is muzzled by the chanting throng
While fear fair throttles what the wise may say.
A Tower of Babel reaching to the skies—
Assured to court disaster and demise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 537

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
There is no proclaimed flower nor yet no
Ascribed weed immured by fate within its
Fretted hour—judged by outward grace alone;
But in her scented glory yet she waits…
Assessed of worth there sole by sight and smell,
Defiled by hideous vermin that debase—
The frail petals of her blossom’s shell
And stain her virtue, ever to disgrace.
Where is the story that she proudly tells…
Dear clods of earth, protected there from rain
Or of the nectar that her blossom swells;
Her simple essence that assuages pain,
Unseen, her labors gave the world its breath—
And even now, she nourishes in death.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 536

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I brusquely thrust my words into her mind
Impaling thoughts, again—and yet again,
That so her leery soul, in wanton kind
Might cede her doubt and be by lust profaned.
Dubiety poured forth along that keen,
Full braced by staid conventions past;
Blue rapier lines that prudery would deem
Licentious, lewd, lubricious, fully crass.
But soft she did embrace the libertine,
And dewy-eyed she seeming understood
The discourse there that flirted nigh obscene
And so debauched, did intimate she would;
That conversation carried on past dawn
‘Til sunlight bleached the stains we laid upon.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 535

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Is love then sparked by but a simple smile,
Or on the sudden twinkle of an eye;
Some artful quirk that can the heart beguile,
A testing moue upon the soul to try?
A spate of laughter floating on the air,
A graceful dally spun about the room,
A single curl of sun blessed raven hair
Or wafting scent as from a summer bloom?
Perhaps by all of these, or none at all;
A grand gestalt or yet some locus prime,
A fancied web where wit and heart enthrall
To so entangle, trussed by one’s own mind?
It is but pleasured bonds that bind me so
Yet of what essence—I may never know.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.