Month: December 2023

Sonnet 616

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
The Christmas spirit now seems double-crossed;
First by the cross that Christ was flogged to bear,
Now by the blight of public pagan dross
Whereby that sacred meaning stands obscured.
So distant lies the heart of Bethlehem
Where son of God, as yet the Son of Man,
By humble birth was given to atone—
And shed the blood by which we may ascend.
We stand now at the nexus of this rood,
The meeting point of the intellect and soul;
Divine intention sadly misconstrued,
By mortal pride or dark design—unwhole.
It is indeed by darkness we know light:
From blackest shadow, n’er a star more bright.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 615

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
To labor ‘neath a heavy time-worn quill
That other hands have hefted with aplomb;
To timelessly address by wit and will
The vagaries of life in ink intoned;
To press the gods of hope in cursive lines
Or beseech loves, by station out of reach;
To elevate base words in cultured rhyme
That by suggestion, some old rune may teach.
Such is the only wish I ever asked—
That silent words might touch both heart and soul
That minds in shared humanity may bask
And dignity—our universal goal.
To show that human hearts are much the same
And by all common worth, share but one name.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 614

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

“Am I my brother’s keeper?”—one may ask,
The answer, yes, when based in piety;
Religion oft becomes a noble mask
That varies widely with society—
Born of man’s wish to marshal group-held thought
To temper action in civility,
That there, perhaps, a kinder course be sought
To school brute hubris with humility.
From dateless jungles we are scarce removed
And selfish genes play out their timeless fight,
Yet where the fittest by bold acts may prove—
There pride of birth betrays its ancient blight.
So bides the sorry state of modern man—
Where faith lies but another club at hand.
 
 
©  Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 613

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Yet from what god does your sweet mien arise?
Those eyes, those lips, that smile that dares compare;
By bold design, a peerless aspect prized
That makes proud sirens languish in despair.
Dim parlor light hails beauty much the same,
Yet morning sun lays bare what masks disguise.
While maquillage is more or less a game,
For paint and powder, beauty’s truth decries.
Here unadorned at break of day you shine,
Bright still in unadulterated light
Though visages by brush, fair rouge refined,
Still seldom match what deities bedight.
You are so blessed, and I the more to see—
True beauty’s best undressed…so let it be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 612

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Now let me strum the ink-strings of love’s lyre
And play for you another little song;
On this my pen’s command shall never tire
In praise of beauty, be it brief or long;
From wanting wit on through my sharper pen
Limned lyrics glide onto white parchment down
And of your graces, lines now sing again
In celebrated chorales of renown.
Superlatives enshrined, steeped deep in rhyme,
Shall stand as tribute to a visage rare—
Mute words to eyes, yet minstrels to the mind
That vocalize a worth beyond compare.
A madrigal for you, borne forth by sight
To inward ears and then the heart’s delight!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.