Sonnet 743

On August 28, 2025October 15, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

The unexamined life—what decadence,
To revel in the muck and swill for rind—
No need to ponder on the role of providence,
Awash in Mammon Mud like plump pink swine.
Life’s goal there—never better—simply more;
To feast and fatten, filch and fornicate—
The greatest triumph…never Heaven’s door
But some chanced opening of the barnyard gate.
In some respects the sty is much our style
Though oft there viewed with humor and disdain;
A list of similarities is swift compiled,
Though in ourselves we dare not to explain.
To analyze our lives in such a light
Seems more a vision with a torch too bright!

Sonnet 742

On August 20, 2025September 21, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

The brain is ectoderm, as skin and eyes,

A kindred tissue born of common frame;

There color veils our truths, conceals our lies,

And moral hues give virtue-vice its name.

A small white lie may seem a harmless thing,

While Stygian falsehood’s shadow darkest hell;

Yet souls still shade the light or dark they bring,

And bear base tones until the funeral knell.

For color is the psyche’s mother-tongue,

So Jung declared, by archetype made known;

And thought in primal shades is ever sung…

Complexion’s deeper than the flesh or bone.

All fruit betrays the essence of its kind—

Its inward nature written on its rind.

Sonnet 741

On August 11, 2025August 27, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Do you like my metaphysical style,

Or more my crisp, neo-classical ascent?

Romanticism curbed—a repressed smile;

Enlightenment through which my heart is lent.

My staunch proclivity for formal verse?

Didactic threads by which I strive to teach—

Not freestyle (which I’ve found a bit perverse),

Nor endless epics—much too long a reach.

But then I tip to satire—wry and sly—

And wink at Shakespeare, Donne, and Pope in turn;

They loom like suns too brilliant for my eye,

Yet in their shadows, still for quill I yearn.

In lyric wonder may I leap and prance—

As one who’s learned through art the steps to dance!

Sonnet 740

On August 11, 2025August 18, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

She touched my stolid heart in gentle ways

And with a kindness blessed beyond compare;

A winsome smile that shone like heaven’s praise—

At times I would but pause and simply stare.

Her life inspires through steadfast constancy,

A will unshaken, sunshine, storm or rain;

A practiced grace in gentle modesty—

The dearest soul to bear a human name.

Some do believe that angels walk the earth,

In this I bow avowing it is true;

These words may court suspicion, doubt or mirth,

Yet daily I behold this truth anew.

Though men may ask: Forsooth, but what is love?

I smile at her, then raise my eyes above.

Sonnet 739

On August 10, 2025August 11, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Now come and lie with me, the moment calls,

The evening star now rises o’er the hill,

And soon the gloaming’s gentle velvet falls

As into every grotto shadows spill.

Mad wings begin their chaos in the air,

Cicada voices trill ‘midst darkling trees,

While lightning bugs court lovers with a flare

And silvered light now glistens on the seas.

Soft grass becomes our bed beneath the stars,

Above us now, ten thousand stars or more;

The distant sound of waves that greet the bar,

Then laugh in glee upon the waiting shore.

Two hearts enthralled—no theater more grand—

Where love or lust plays out upon the strand.

Sonnet 738

On August 5, 2025August 15, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

A drop of beauty woven in a line,

A winsome smile bent in a cursive swirl,

The cadence of dear words clasped in a rhyme,

Sweet thoughts of love that only verse unfurls.

The mystic magic of a lover’s pen,

Soft tears that fall upon the billet-doux,

More drops that blur the ink like vernal rain—

Her eyes alight, she reads the words anew.

The rune then blotted with a tissue dry,

And placed with care inside the glory box;

The lid then closed, again she starts to cry—

Wet stains of hope upon her linen smock.

A gaze upon the garden, vast and green…

Where now she floats in rapture, soft, serene.

Sonnet 737

On August 5, 2025August 10, 2025 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Break me, O God! Not with a gentle hand—
Smile down my pride and burn away my will;
My prayers are dead, like ash upon the sand,
And still I breathe…yet feel Thy silence kill.
This soul you formed from dust now dares to speak,
Half-damned and trembling at Your dread delay;
If grace be real, than strike me while I’m weak—
Do not relent, then judge when I decay!
I’ve knelt too long in shadows with bowed head,
And whispered praise when rebuke filled my chest;
If faith must thrive, then scourge me raw instead—
Let hurt bear proof You hear this heart’s unrest!
Refuse me not—or render me insane—
If I deserve not rapture—give me pain!