Sonnet 561

All Hallow’s Eve the mist of death descends
And spirits walk as if of mortal form,
By ghoulish shapes their presence so portends
That every soul is not of Heaven born.
There stones engraved are lit by pagan lights,
That torch of ages raised ‘fore Christ arrived—/
To show that hope shall ever best the blight,
And quietus may ne’er sweet life deride.
So of that hope did heathens build a cross
‘Mong other icons to assuage their fears
That relic bones in sand be earthly dross;
Where yet some essence braves the vale of tears.
A darkened eve that outre vision paints
In doubts that linger on the day of saints.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved

Sonnet 560

Heaven is falling, so the scholars said;
By sins of man and dastard deeds defamed,
The consequence of vice all dire and dread
Complete repentance still full mired in shame.
You must obey and yield, transgress no more —
Now supplicate in penance and bow down,
Embrace your fate, prostrate, you evil whore!
Vile body owned by those who wear the crown.
What pillars have we moved to break the sky?
What acts of living now are deemed a crime?
What chains to wear no plutocrats oblige?
Why toll not bells yet for elites divine?
The tyrants’ scepter so stands gilt by fear,
Yet soon by common hands coiffed heads to bear.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 559

A Tower of Babel reaching to the sky
Built by stout arms of proud democracy,
Invoking God where human hearts defy
His dictums in a vain hypocrisy.
From many, one they piped in bold decree
Yet one of many did the others rule
By feigned inclusiveness that few could see,
They played the common as rank loathsome fools.
To further aims they would through hate divide
That darkness shroud the evils of their ends,
Controlling speech so none could there deride
Those pillars high that no truth could defend.
Obedience shall gain sweet promised lands:
So states the plaque where on the rubble stands.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 558

Winter’s wrath precedes with blood splashed on the trees
And golden guilders strewn upon the ground;
There too corrupted, gentle summer’s breeze,
Erupts in gales that flays fair fortune down.
Gilt golden grain once proud, now stooked and tied,
By scythe upended, heads bowed to their fate;
The pitchfork pike and plodding wagon ride,
Now damned unto the byre beyond the gate.
White frost encrusts the fields, that chainmail cloak
Enfolds in silence, fur and feathered song;
Though yet unfettered, happy sings the brook
Oblivious to the chains he’ll wear anon.
So once again that frigid might descends
‘Til gentle Spring arrives to make amends.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 557

All is forgiven, God alone decides,
So by his will you have forsaken me;
Now grief alone shall chase a swallowed pride,
Rank bitterness the lingered taste to be.
We are straw dogs though feelings yet contend
Through repressed ire when fate be meted so,
Celestial decrees with wanton ends
Do blacken quite the hopes of lesser souls.
Stalk form asunder, shattered on the ground
Beneath the umbra of unquestioned might;
Frayed worthless husks that love once did impound
Now cast away forever from your sight.
Wind scattered grasses ‘neath dark clouds belie
That noble strife to seek a bluer sky.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.