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 dream believers built a cross
‘Mong other icons to assuage their fears
That relic bones be not vain earthly dross;
Where yet some essence braves the vale of tears.
That 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 scholar 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 though doubting 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 their minions as rank loathsome fools.
To further aims they would by hate divide,
Black darkness to shroud evils of their ends,
Controlling speech so none could there deride
Thin 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,
Condemned there to the byre beyond the gate.
Hoar frost encrusts the fields, that chainmail cloak,
Restrains in silence, fur and feathered song;
Though still unfettered, happy sings the brook
Oblivious to cold chains he’ll wear anon.
So once again that gelid might descends
‘Til gentle Spring returns and makes 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,
Bile’s 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.