Sonnet 579

On March 26, 2023August 31, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

It is man’s nature here to so deceive,

Success bestowing sly, propitious pleasures;

For by slick wit alone he can receive

Grand benefits where work is not the measure.

For many, falsehood is but deemed a ‘fib’,

For some prevarication plays as art;

Perhaps from Eve evolved the term to ‘rib’

For every truth is yet untrue in part.

Deceit, assured, takes many different forms

For lies alone may save a true man’s life—

The poor may dupe for food or clothes to warm,

Young men may gull to bed a future wife.

Both truth and falsehood yield their consequence,

Yet prize alone oft dictates the assent.

Sonnet 578

On March 26, 2023September 2, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Yes you have been unfaithful, this is true

And so have I, to even yet the score;

Still now you’ve come to seek what we might do

To stay this damning fate we both abhor.

Sweet love upon the gallows—now deemed just,

Awaiting but the noose around her neck;

The sand bag test late giving solid trust—

And now she stands in tears upon the deck.

But all sin pardoned, pray what might this do,

Commute our pain to life without parole

That every time your visage I may view,

Dark memories lash out to hate cajole?

No reparation would such sentence bring—

So drop the door and let that harlot swing.

Sonnet 577

On March 25, 2023September 3, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Dear Poetry, fair mistress of the mind,

You lead me to green gardens of delight

And there entice with golden voice so kind

While love and lust in vestal rhymes unite.

There heart to heart an ageless rhythm twines

Lone souls as one in sacred evensong,

Where marching measure cadenced into rhyme

Leads to that haven past the maddened throng.

So shall we meet by light of sun or moon

Or on dark eves when no such beams may fall,

By candled verse we’ll dance to timeless tunes

Where lyric lilt and rousing lines enthrall.

You are my first and ever lasting love—

No rune of flesh could yet my heart so move.

Sonnet 576

On March 18, 2023September 3, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

A beauty blooms amid the modern blight—

Where ink or studs or rings festoon the flesh;

This crude adornment, deemed a kind of rite,

While leaving gentler tastes quite dispossessed.

Once beasts of burden sported markings so,

By brand, all chattel tallied under law,

So everywhere such witless stock might go

Their swift return be aided without pause.

In Rubens’ time the plump were seen as fair;

Perhaps Neanderthal prized skin unshorn,

The Masai men crave pates quite smooth and bare,

While Suri tribes strange duck-like lips adorn.

Caprice in beauty may fond hearts enthuse,

By love or lust, such fashion to bemuse.

Sonnet 575

On March 5, 2023September 4, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

True love is not by measure, beauty borne

For beauty stands as raiments held in lease

And like a precious garment soon grows worn,

While yet of heart, fond recall still entreats.

By recollection such your vestment lives

Locked in that precious vault where memories lie,

Though ripened eyes a faded image gives,

Your first glimpsed blush still smites upon my eye.

To me you shine as bright as grace may glow

When my heart wanders to that first held sight

And though Time always stands to ply his woes,

No mischief there can ever shroud that light.

By power of love, your beauty shall remain—

And all aspersions there be cast in vain.

Sonnet574

On March 4, 2023September 4, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

I thought the snow had passed—but yet, alas

It came again last night to gild the grange

And forged for Spring a frosty white impasse,

That she defer her entrance on the stage.

Snow falling fast now still upon more snow,

A veil of white obscuring distant trees;

By final coup for Winter’s grim tableau—

His gelid might cast o’er the nascent green.

Still more to ravage now the buried land;

Surrendered stand stout hedgerows’ warrior pose—

Sweet cherub buds lie iced in cold remand

And lime-green sprigs, frost-bound in grim repose.

So yields the world’s fair grasp of dreams sublime,

Though fate lays siege, hope lingers on in time.

	Steven on Sonnet 556
	julesbikepoems on Sonnet 404
	Meramolin B. on Sonnet 414
	Thalena on In Black and White
	pairunoyd on A Thought

	Steven on Sonnet 556
	julesbikepoems on Sonnet 404
	Meramolin B. on Sonnet 414
	Thalena on In Black and White
	pairunoyd on A Thought

Loubert S Suddaby poems

Month: March 2023