Month: September 2022

Sonnet 556

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn Poems1 Comment
As morning sun shall rise, so must it set
To mete again a sweet or bitter day
And once quite surely gone, it rises yet
To mark out time in single candled ways.
So measured life in darkness and in light
Plays out in puppet shadows on a wall
As if by some mischievous manus sleight—
Designed to much amuse, or yet to gall.
From golden sconce forever hope is shone
So life ekes on amidst quotidian dreams,
Penumbral shadows coalesced at dawn;
Form strange ombromanies upon a screen.
And still we dance beneath that ageless sun,
In shadowed trance, ‘til moonless night shall come.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 555

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Where lies sweet hope when passion bars love’s way
And petty quarrels set once-kind hearts aflame,
Smoke rising like dark clouds to choke the day,
Descending soon as thunder-scolded rain?
Soon words, like waves by distant tempests stirred,
Lash out in rage upon the rugged shore
As each stands firm, in bitter pride deferred,
To drown the other in a blustery storm.
Where is the beacon when the blackened sky
And scornful winds bring hope down to its knees?
When love’s a storm-tossed sailor, left to die,
Clinging to flotsam on relentless seas—
There battered hope survives to still hold on
The stoutest stones that love once rested on.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 554

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I brought to you a bouquet of the sun
Fresh plucked from fields and ripe with heaven’s praise;
You placed them in a vase and hummed a song,
Arranging blooms beneath a gentle gaze…
Then turned to me and beamed a radiant smile
That took me back to sun-drenched meadows fair,
From which I’d walked that happy, golden mile
‘Midst orchid scents and pink orpine-rich air.
I had no gifts to bring  but those few flowers;
Yet you received them as a treasure pure
And on your porch we lingered for an hour—
Light foolishness and airs of sweet allure.
Of all lost chances, one still haunts my soul…
That I lacked strength, your precious hand to hold.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.