Month: April 2023

Sonnet 586

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The female heart oft revels in deceit—
Yet rolls bright eyes at all who choose to vet her.
While true, both sexes will prevaricate;
Of that dark art, the gentler is the better.
Decrying value based on looks alone
She nonetheless will paint and primp to flatter;
Of future beaus, character’s deemed touchstone
Yet station, berth and purse by size full matters.
Perhaps here lies why men do oft enhance
Near any worth that is subject to measure,
Half knowing that his chosen’s stated stance
Is largely based on status, sway and treasure.
Of lies, by lies and for sweet lies we live—
For truth in love oft stands a paltry sieve.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 585

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Love is a promise written in thin air
Not scribed in ink or yet on graven stone,
Sweet slender lines of might beyond compare
Surviving here all vellum, slate and bronze.
It is a tenet pledged on hope in time
As though enacted by proud scriven words
To stay a mystic maxim locked in kind,
By lettered rendering, hearts and souls immured.
Yet what I write  for you here matters not,
Your essence shuns the reach of mortal hand
And though I strive, I ever grasp but naught;
What hand supine to God yet holds the wind?
Love is a covenant graved in Heaven’s blue
That I here breathe and still by breath hold true.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 584

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
For I have searched the corridors of love
Empty and cold, drab flowers on the wall;
Far still by heart, fair little there to move
And yet more less, my soul to so enthrall.
We’re I but like a burden beast or bird
By instinct set to prance and procreate,
Happiest in the act, not in the word
Where love lurks as a lust to satiate.
Am I a puppet drawn upon thin strings
Of acid base, Oh what an irony!
Perhaps such contradiction might yet bring
Some sane solution to my anomie—
I fear for God by sin I here atone,
For where is she that’s meant for me alone?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 583

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Do not apologize for the wrath of Time
For every countenance his blade shall score;
Each visage born of flesh, though once sublime,
By siege of life shall feel that ruthless sword.
What battle grand does not bestow it’s scars
Where staunchest ardor did by heart propel,
What greater proof of undiminished war
Than marks and mars detailing glorious hell?
For of such passage where’s the proof of strife
If cherub faces blazoned struggles waged,
Detailing full pained vagaries of life
And how they triumphed proudly o’er that rage.
Unblemished faces here shall court despise,
For victors seldom sport soft beauty’s guise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 582

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
You cannot force a fancy on my mind;
Truth is the glass that shows reality.
For though pure logic may be parsed in kind
There still remains one actuality.
All human trust is subject to a gloss
That’s oft by act or accident contrived,
Through wit alone are misperceptions tossed
For sole by reason is a proof derived.
Where once man did believe the world was flat
And that the earth was center for the sun,
Such misconceptions here now make us laugh—
Still, Galileo’s sword was truth alone.
Reason be damned, embrace the common thought;
Burn heretics that flout the orthodox!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved

Sonnet 581

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
What wealth by trade could your sweet love dispose,
Or yet, what belle usurp you as my lover?
That human bond we share bests sovereign gold;
The choicest lust but seems a paltry bother.
No earthly arms can hold the gifts we share;
No wonder of the world boasts better cause;
No plunder of the heart could tops the wares
That seem as gifts bestowed by doting gods.
Our love alone o’er sways all mortal worth
And by its’ truest form, shall know no price,
For all the fashioned bounties of this earth
Shall but that truth and beauty here deride.
Though chattels oft corrupt the soul of man—
Kokoro sums the worth of love’s command.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved

Sonnet 580

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
So little honor still remains in men,
Their souls corrupted by the glint of gold;
And of their worth, what adage to append
When to the tomb, as others, they must go?
Should carats now dimension character,
Or eminence be weighed upon a scale?
To acid tests, should purity defer?
Will wealth alone at heaven’s gate prevail?
By measure such dear values we demean
And all the treasures of sweet life confound,
All purposes of being wax obscene;
The crux of human grace abased to ground.
By praising gods born out of common earth,
So shall our spirits ever suffer dearth.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.