Sonnet 567

What does it mean that I should die for you,
That you would thrive, I give my final breath—
What greater act of love if this be true
To seal in blood, bold promise unto death?
You show no pleasure in proud gifts I bring
And every joy bestowed draws fleeting smiles,
While stony ears hear not the praise I sing
And distant eyes gaze on me from a mile.
I feel as naught while you are all my life,
My heart, my soul, my being burns in flame;
Yet for faint blessings here my days court strife
Wherein I pray one day you’ll bear my name.
Love is a prison, thus it seems to be…
Where one who cares the least fair holds the key.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 566

What praise lies in the raiments of a king?
What power’s vested in a jeweled crown—
And to a spawn of earth, what psalms to sing
Where lineage alone confers renown?
What gives one being might by blood to rule?
What crux of life defines a better birth?
What forged belief is held by jesters’ fools
That they mouth scripted lines of paltry worth?
The merit of all men lies in their deeds
Where by invention they so prove their right,
For unearned honor ever truth impedes
And nepotism every worth does blight.
From crowded masses let that soul arise
To stand alone, reach up and touch the skies.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

A Lover’s Lament

What should I say of you and love
The nightingale and turtle dove
Once sang our song to gods above;
What of love to blame?
You said my heart you’d ever hold
That hearth once warm now here lies cold
Dear promises sworn ever bold,
Now seem damned to shame.
Still what to do when love is lost
And sweetest dreams stand naught but dross
All hope to Hell there seeming tossed,
Who can bear this pain?
I see you now upon the heather
In sunshine or in foul weather
With another soul to tether
In your hapless game.
A wish, a whim, a prayer to state
An orison at Heaven’s gate
A malison bestowed by fate,
All shall bear your name.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 565

Ice water veins and muscles deft and right,
Rapt mind full fixed upon the gliding knife;
The grip upon the handle firm but light
As tissues splay whilst spilling forth their life.
A muted buzz to stem the surging tide—
Staunch suction pursed to swill the overflow;
Numbed full, the corpus cleaved, a book spread wide,
Sheer layered lines loom ‘neath the head lamps’ glow.
Deep lies the demon in his hidden lair
Snarled tentacles insidious and grey,
Pure malice mingled in dread deaths’ despair,
Of purpose but to murder or waylay.
The duel rages, hours in minutes pass—
And now the evil fettered up in glass.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 564

Splayed on my shipwrecked life I loll and muse
Enthralled by spectral forms that rise and fall
As white capped crests upon the rolling blue,
Wind fetched by storms now tamed to tempered squalls.
How vast the ocean, minuscule the strand
Who by the mighty main is ever tried;
Upheaved in ire upon approach to land
Froth fisted fury, conquest yet denied.
Ah still they come to flail the mighty down
As if by constancy they should prevail
And wax in force that nereids there may drown,
Spawned so by distant tempests, borne by gales.
Perhaps they’ve won here after all this time…
And I should now commend my soul to brine.
© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved

Sonnet 563

What care I now that you should love me so,
For were I gone, you would soon find another;
Yea, fore the grass upon my grave dare grow
Your arms would surely clasp a new coined lover.
What say we then that love should ever stand
Where simple audit often proves untrue;
What promise made desire can’t countermand
And so of ever after, what say you?
Love is a dream where willing souls partake
In fantasies of bonds that outlast time,
Where anecdotes of loyalty still relate
Cloyed fancies of two hearts forever twined.
Eternal love proclaimed is wasted breath;
Where dearest hopes feign constancy ‘til death.
© Loubert S. Suddaby.  All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 562

What of those eyes that heaven did so bless,
Alluring smiles to best telluric dreams;
Lithe loving arms to lonely souls caress,
Smooth satin skin soft silvered by moonbeams.
A sylphid sweet swoon sailing on the night;
Love murmured songs to soothe the savage beast
In tones to top brave Orpheus in his plight
When he did croon to save Eurydice.
Yet here on earth, yes she a woman born
With all the carnal chattels of desire,
A sultry sprite to every heart so warm
That it soon melt or burn in love stoked fire.
A spirit right to ever haunt the mind—
And with closed eyes, forever there to find.
© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved