Sonnet 594

Would you but grasp the power, that female force
To crush a man with yet a simple smile—
And in so doing, rule his best and worst
That he concede and follow in your style.
To have his manhood at your sole behest,
His strength and cunning to back all your claims;
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 watched by penciled eyes,
By 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

When she was gone away from me those months
And did her dalliance with lust entrain,
There honeyed notes engaged me as a dunce
Though of that act, I might have waxed the same;
Between those lines I marked a different love,
By common words a truth both stressed and strained,
Not warm endearments that one might think of
But as if fondness bore 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 duplicity did sink.
Confronted so upon her proud return…
We sifted through the ash of letters burned.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 592

I oft confuse a smile with simile,
By acts or words a thought may come to bear,
As most I smile at things I love to see
And so by notion, silent words compare.
To me your dimples laugh like joy reborn,
A saucy sneer seems though I’ve lost my way,
A radiant beam can warm me like the sun
And simpers slight seem as a cat at play.
But similes and smiles are not the same
Though similitudes and wiles may convene,
Yet false compare is more than just a game,
When they pervert reality to meme.
In words please see, by broad conceit a grin
And not by smirk, an act condoning sin.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.


At times, a jester on the stage of life
And many more of note, an utter fool;
Yet to embrace all trials as humorous 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,
Well knowing that detractors will delight
In sour misfortune that most lives confound.
There is a subset of the human kind
That relishes another’s misery;
In these black hearts pure evil is refined
To tip the arrows of sheer treachery.
A wink, a nod, a smile at quick behest
Is better armor than an iron breast.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 590

Born of pure love is every mother’s child,
No cradling arms were yet more soft and warm;
No greater hope exists than her sweet smile
And of her tears, no feelings more forlorn.
Of mortal essence stands no stronger bond;
No greater sacrifice of heart and soul
That one life give until her breath be gone
So her dear brood gain promise in this world.
In all our triumphs, there we see her face;
In all our sadness, yet she comforts there;
Quintessential caring, infinite grace—
To guide us through both gladness and despair.
By Mother’s love, we never walk alone
And where she bides is ever our sweet home.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 589

Yes you desire a child, well this I know
And wish him all the things you see in me;
But out of wedlock, were we there to sow
Some 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 there to share his life?’
Such thoughts are but an arrow to my heart,
So too to yours, should you now muse 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,
I feel your tears, yet you hear not my voice.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 588

The sweet precious joys of a new found love
Can raise up spirits and inflame the heart
As though a gift bestowed by heav’n above
On opening, did ecstasy impart.
Such clarity of eye now smites the sight!
All earthly colors rich beyond compare!
All future promise, darkness dare not blight!
Eternal gladness rising on the air!
But many prizes wear not well with time;
Fair baubles treasured may yet common grow
As every pleasure here once deemed sublime,
On daily measure, loses lusters’ glow.
All gifts of gilt and glitter dull with play—
While those of merit grow in worth each day.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved/

Sonnet 587

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 gladness 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 here shall rise 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.