Month: May 2023

Sonnet 594

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
If you could grasp the power, that female force
To crush a man with but a simple smile—
And in so doing, rule his best and worst
That he concede and venerate your style.
To have his manhood at your sole behest,
His strength and cunning to back all your aims;
To wield by proxy all his manliness—
As you conspire in endless effete games.
But of this quest, you do not stand alone
For every move is tracked by penciled eyes,
With paint and brush so too are their skills honed;
The best of a maquillage in battle plied.
Such force once launched a thousand mighty ships:
Blood red so stained are many siren’s lips.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 593

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
When she was gone away from me those months
And did her dalliance with lust enchain,
Her honeyed notes beguiled me as a dunce
Though truth be told, I might have done the same;
Within those lines I marked a tempered love—
By common words, a truth both stressed and strained,
Not tender words that lovers oft think of—
But as if devotion wore another name.
I found it strange, yet gave the best of heart
And answered every missive in love’s ink;
Each billet-doux grew weekly more apart
As truth unto deception seemed to sink.
Confronted so upon her proud return…
We sifted through the ash of letters burned.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 592

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
I oft confuse a smile with simile—
By acts or words a vision from thin air,
For most, I smile at what I love to see
And by sweet notion, anecdotes compare.
To me your dimples laugh like joy reborn,
A saucy sneer suggests I’ve gone astray,
A radiant beam can warm me like the sun
And simpers soft seem much a cat at play.
But similes and smiles are not the same
Though similitudes and wiles may convene,
Yet keen compare is more than just a game,
When they pervert a truth into a scheme.
In verse please see, by broad conceit a grin—
And not by smirk, a ruse condoning spin.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet591

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
At times, a comic on the stage of life
And far more often still, an utter fool;
Yet to make fun of trials and their strife
Does rob of spite the pleasures of the cruel.
It is a special grace to make as light
All dark calamities that bring life down,
For all know well, detractors will delight
In sour misfortune that most lives confound.
There lurks a breed within the human kind
That relishes another’s misery;
In these black hearts pure evil is refined
To tip the arrows of sheer treachery.
A jest, a grin, quick laughter in duress
Outshines the armor of an iron breast.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 590

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Born of pure love is every mother’s child;
No cradling arms were yet more soft and warm;
No greater hope than in her gentle smile—
To see her tears, no feelings more forlorn.
Of mortal essence stands no stronger bond,
No greater sacrifice of heart and soul
That one life yield until her breath be gone
So her dear brood might flourish in this world.
In all our triumphs, there we see her face;
In all our sadness, still she comforts there;
Quintessential caring, infinite grace
To guide us through both gladness and despair.
By Mother’s love, we walk no path alone—
And where she bides is ever our sweet home.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 589

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Yes you desire a child—well this I know
And wish him all the things you see in me;
But out of wedlock, should we dare to sow
A precious life yet fatherless to be…
What will you tell him when he comes of age
And asks, “Where is he now? What is he like?
Does he not love me? What’s his Christian name?
Were we not worthy he should share our life?”
Such thoughts strike like an arrow to my heart,
And yours as well, if you but think a while;
Our selfish wants need here be set apart
Serving but ill where love must bless a child.
Hope writhes in pain sometimes on better choice;
What does love gain where reason has no voice?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 588

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The precious joys of a new found love
Can lift the spirit and delight the heart
As though a gift bestowed by heav’n above,
On opening, did ecstasy impart.
Such radiance of eye now smites the sight!
All earthly colors rich beyond compare!
All future promise, darkness dare not blight—
Wondrous gladness rising on the air!
But many prizes wear not well with time;
Fair baubles treasured soon may common grow
As every pleasure here once deemed sublime,
With daily measure, loses luster’s glow.
Gifts of gilt and glitter dull with time’s decay—
While those of merit shine more bright each day.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 587

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The human pleasures that the gods devised
Seem manifold—but when examined, few.
Borne of five senses where all minds surmise
Some grand gestalt that we imagine, true.
Here misperceptions grow in common thought
Or yet, perhaps, percipience is gamed,
For one man’s nectar is another rot—
Yet why the difference oft cannot be named.
While all can quickly find the sweet or sour,
The sharp, the dull, light, dark, a fragrant drift;
Ask then what is the one most beauteous flower
And there begins the most contentious rift.
How vast the difference that two men may see,
Of senses five … and one reality.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.