Sonnet 579

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

It is man’s nature here to so deceive,

Success therein providing special pleasures;

For by mere wit alone one can receive

Grand benefits where work is not the measure.

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

For some prevarication is an 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.

Of truth or lies both have their consequence

As flipping coins, reversed obverse makes sense.

Sonnet 578

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

Yes you have been deceitful, this is true

And so have I, to even yet the score;

Still now you come to see what we might do

To stay this damning fate we both abhor.

Sweet love upon the gallows now seems just,

Awaiting but the noose around her neck;

The sand bag run has given solid trust

And now she stands in tears upon the deck.

But all forgiven, pray what might this do,

Commute to life in chains without parole?

That every time your visage I may view,

Dark memories return to hate cajole?

There is no life to live confined by walls—

So swing the door and let that harlot fall.

Sonnet 577

On March 25, 2023March 26, 2023 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Dear Poetry, sweet mistress of the mind,

You lead me to fond gardens of delight

And there seduce by beauteous words in kind

While love and lust do virgin rhyme bedight.

There heart to heart a primal beat entwines

Lone souls as one in precious evensong,

Where marching measure cadenced into rhyme

Leads to that place beyond the madding throng.

So shall we meet by light of sun or moon

Or on those darkling eves when no light falls,

By candled verse to dance in simple tunes

Where lyric lines of cursive lilt enthrall.

You are my first and ever lasting love;

No rune of flesh could yet my heart so move.

Sonnet 576

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

There is a new spawned beauty of this age—

By ink, by studs, by metal rings defiled;

Rude desecration such seems all the rage

Where patrons of past worth stand full beguiled.

Once beasts of burden sported markings so

That chattel be accounted under law,

So ever where such witless stock might go

Their swift return be aided so by clause.

In Rubens time the plump were seen as fair,

Perhaps Neanderthal loved skin unshorn,

Proud Masai men letch for smooth pates quite bear,

While Suri tribes, stretched beaks of ducks adorn.

Caprice in beauty may fond hearts enthuse,

By love or lust such fashion to bemuse.

Sonnet 575

On March 5, 2023March 10, 2023 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 seems worn,

Though yet of heart, fond recall still entreats.

By recollection such your vestment lives

Locked in that precious vault where memories lie,

For though false sight a faded image gives

That first worn 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, 2023March 25, 2023 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 set for Spring a frosty white impasse

That she defer her entrance on this stage.

Snow falling fast yet still upon more snow,

A veil of blight obscuring distant trees;

By final coup, old Winter to bestow

His gelid might upon the nascent green.

But more to come upon the vanquished land;

Surrendered now stout hedgerows warrior pose,

Sweet cherub buds there placed in cold remand

And lime green sprigs grim frozen in repose.

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

To weather doom, yet bide by hope 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