Alberta Born

Alberta born,
That seamless sky that stretches tight
In dauntless blue abounds
And crowns that sweet terrain;
A glazed cerulean bowl that broadly spans
Mountain and bold prairie grounds
Awash in golden light of endless wheat and tawny grains
That wave to greet in proud salute 
The celestial Lord of days.
 
Upon that land where gods do play
There casting bounties wide with brash delight 
While wild rose horizons fade to gentle night,
And then the light of yet ten thousand stars
To burst upon mute plains and sandy bars
So sparking hope among those souls
Who ever lonely are.
 
The timber wolf calls out their woes
As if in solemn somber prayer
To wail the purple air
And purge the land of pain, his purpose be
To call upon and save those wandering souls…
And bring them home.
 
Around the heart spun fields of gold, 
Dark endless forests
Stand
An endless brave of sentinels command,
There ever manning guard.
Foreboding boreal shadows like a darkling sea
Where denizens do stalk and scare
Those timid hearts that may yet dare
To breech the stolid lines and so behold
The hollows where black stories told
Shall ever haunt the mind.
 
Oh mountains high!
That reach up to that peerless sky
Where hawks and eagles set, unfold and fly
To proudly hunt as days of old—
Unfettered feathered monarchs of the air
There blessed of freedom yet beyond compare
Where even mighty sovereigns stop 
And stare…
 
Upon those granite faces trickle down
The tears of joy that giggle into streams
Where rainbow colored fishes dream
In water yet so pure no man can say,
But knows to be thus baptized is to stay
Alberta born.
 
Again the sun to rise a shining morn
Yet now to gaze upon the sweeping white
And craggy ice etched main
With cloudy breath like plumes of frozen words
Of nivean praise rise up now as so to say
I love this more than any other day—
There heaven’s diamonds glinting on the snow
Jeweled riches yet beyond a kings’ command;
A regal show.
 
Who would believe that endless eider would bestow
A splendored blessed tableau
Where yet beneath
Creep creatures meek
Whose prayers beseech
That sweet ephemeral Chinook to purse and blow
And gently call upon that flowered paintbrush 
To erupt and claim the silent sleeping land
With stippled hues and strokes that rise, ignite
And melt the snow with living prairie fire.
 
Nor else on earth exists a state so grand
That swells the heart in boundless nature pure
And can the stiffest conscience stir 
In memories that can purely touch the strand;
Or move in truth, sweet flowing tears unplanned
Or cause their sons to give lives free of hand
For her great soul:
That those who see are so enchanted there
That they fair wish to die and be,
Alberta born.
 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 498

Gold tints of honey tend the softest hair
And glints of diamond fire bright the eyes,
Rose burnished sunshine blazons cheeks so fair
Then fades to lips where crimson roses rise;
A smile yet of alabaster white
Shines forth on souls of those so blessed to see
That wondrous form obscuring heart contrite,
Untouched by spite or female vanity.
Oh Lord of life, what chance this beauty pure
Should walk the mortal earth — before me stand;
The best that hope and love could yet immure
Bestowing here the gift of her sweet hand.
Though life may bless us with a thousand years,
No ocean wide could hold these joyous tears.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 497

Ebenezer! Ebenezer! She wailed;
Her strident voice now shattered on the stairs,
Reverberating off cold paw worn rails
To grate upon my cauliflower ears;
There through a rent in velvet, stabbing light
That curdled in the dust like deviled rain
Swirled in a time warped tortured plight 
As if escape lay down some sordid drain.
So did my thoughts now mingle in that puddle,
A morass there of anger and remorse
That rendered heart and mind a hopeless muddle,
White knuckled hope alone to stay the course.
A glint of brass upon the handled door
Now harkened to that heavy ring I wore.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 496

No words here writ shall canonize true love
For what of love survives beyond tomb?
Nay, here and now embrace as though to prove
That living souls brave not the pending doom.
Feast now, drink now, tomorrow may not stay
To bring sweet hope to lives in compact joined;
No plan so certain chance may not waylay—
No promised bounty fate can not purloin.
Though we interred together may embrace,
Our bones entwined to grace the dusts of time
Of human shells unearthed, no hearts leave trace
That they outlast the cage that held their rhyme.
Then take my hand here now and lie with me
And flout that lie that lives eternally.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 495

Here now proclaimed love’s brightest star burned out,
No nova flash, mere lustrous fire to fade,
No astral blast to make stargazers shout—
Mere slow eclipse unto a cosmic grave.
The skies of night are now a darker place
Sweet lumens lost unto cold matter dark
To sail the rippled waves of time and space;
Blank emptiness from whence they did embark.
Of universal Love, no finer light
Did fall upon the earth from heaven above;
To those who viewed, no stellar heart as bright,
That shining beacon lit by hand of Jove.
Though eyes to heaven ever mark their gaze;
No finer radiance shall souls amaze.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 494

If I could light a star to mark your name
It would shine brighter than all stars before
And your pure essence boast celestial fame,
A beacon bright to herald Heaven’s door.
There you shall gleam more proud than Vega’s flame,
So will Arcturus pale by rayed compare;
Ired Sirius to Titan shall complain
While Canopus and Rigil shield despair.
So will your aura challenge yet the Moon
That her pocked countenance seek veiling cloud
While astral beings in their wonder swoon;
Telluric princess by Astraeus crowned.
There you shall reign in luminous delight:
A peerless beauty so to grace the night.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 493

Why are you here but for the act of others;
Did they embrace in love—it matters not.
Where is your father or yet your mother
And do they care of him that chance begot?
What of the hands that rocked the newborn cradle?
Whose breast or bottle satisfied the cries?
Who left you on the stoop beneath that steeple,
Alone and cold beneath blank heaven’s eyes?
Yet you survived against bleak biased odds
There so to thrive despite that mark of shame,
To lead the course of every bastard’s cause
And carve in stone the wonders of your name.
On hope alone sometimes the die are cast;
Sweet life’s a gift with never why to ask.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 492

There jeweled light upon dear beauty’s breast
Bright tears of joy from loving eyes so stained
Pure pride achieving honor’s greatest quest,
Sweet song of life that sings true heart’s refrain.
So beaming now she dries the drowning orbs
And with a smile that might outshine the sun
Embraces him with gushing arms out poured
Her forthright pledge to love but him alone.
There he stoops down, ascending to the knee
And clasps that hand he’ll hold forever more,
Through brimming eyes eternity he sees,
Soft quavering voice calls now on heaven’s door.
‘Will you accept this troth and be my bride?’
‘I will my love, whatever fate betide.’

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 491

The wings of night now bring sweet Sylvia fair,
Her form light haloed by the silver moon,
Soft shadowed warmth assuaging every care,
Above her head all heaven, star festooned.
God gave her beauty more than men can stand
And of that essence which I now behold,
No rapture yet imagined here as grand
As this bright angel that my arms dare hold.
No greater gift could living sense bestow,
Not heaven itself to raise such wonders high,
No glory given to enraptured souls
Could with this vision here before me vie;
So blazoned on my mind ‘til final breath;
Here beauty pinioned ‘til I yield in death.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 490

Oh how you squander beauty’s currency
Upon those lowbrow parties steeped in rum;
Cheap cigarettes and turbid rot gut whiskey
Serve to glaze dull eyes and render riffraff numb.
There you, a butterfly among drab moths
That flail about fell sordid driftwood flames;
Chaotic dancers round a witches’ broth
That harkens back the stink upon the Thames.
Those riches that you bear be better spent
In flowered gardens gilded by the moon,
Where blossoms buoyed by crinoline ostent
While violins and oboes softly croon.
I pray these words may you your wealth apprise,
And of God’s gifts, a nobler plan devise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.