Sonnet 535

Should I then base love on a simple smile,
Or yet upon a twinkle of the eye;
Some artful quirk that can the heart beguile,
A testing moue upon the soul to try?
A spate of laughter floating on the air,
A graceful dally spun about the room,
A single curl of sun blessed raven hair
Or wafting scent as from a summer bloom?
Perhaps it’s all of these, or none at all;
A grand gestalt or yet some locus prime,
A fancied web there to sound wit enthrall
As so to halter, trussed by one’s own mind?
It is but pleasured bonds that bind me so
Yet of what essence, I may never know.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 534

Happy Birthday my love where on this day
Marks still the time a regal soul was born
To grace the earth as though an errant ray
Of heaven’s light upon the earth was shone.
That beam to braise the world in love’s sweet warmth
And rainbow hue the earth in kindness fair
That every heart so touched rise hope adorned,
Imbued with ardor yet beyond compare.
Of fondness blessed such purity of heart
By gentle grace could every soul confound
And so one form from others stand apart
Yet still embrace by omnibus renowned.
Now is a time to celebrate and sing
And may this praise in rhyme forever ring!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 533

I threw another dream log on the fire
Where dying flames could lick it hungrily,
And though soft smoke to heaven did aspire
My thoughts lay in bronze embers still to see;
Within those glowing coals, all ardor past,
The essence yet of every hope and prayer,
All quested glory now on ashes cast
And nigh below, grey stone to rest them there.
Not long ago a great inferno burned
Within the confines of this yawning hearth,
A conflagration pure of life affirmed
Now lit as candles on a sepulcher;
That blaze a flicker of its’ former might
Which once did rage; Oh with a gloried light!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

The Poet

Carefully chosen words laid in like brick
And then the mortar grit and muddy thick
To build a structure where no ready form
Could yet unto the watchful eyes discern;
But still the layer labored unaware
Indeed quite doubtful anyone should care
For there was such fulfillment in that work
No part of him would deign to stop or shirk
That labor born of love that egged him on
Until upon that page no light yet shone.
Rest of tomorrow ‘til the sun shall rise,
Where line by line fresh toil greets the skies.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 532

Quite then a traveler between birth and death,
That odyssey of hope and dreams deemed life;
From primal scream until the final breath,
A pilgrimage replete with bloody strife;
A gauntlet there of tribulation run
So beaten, bound, by every word disgraced;
More battles seeming lost than those fair won
And even night’s reprieve by fret defaced.
Yet comes the morning with the waxing light
To vanquish shadows and to spirits warm,
Slaying dragons that beset the night,
Salving worn souls in faith’s eternal balm.
Here though I greet the world with gaze distrait,
I look on you and grant that hell can wait.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 531

Long have I gazed through life’s ethereal smoke
And of that time have seen fair beauties pass,
Where most sport fairness as a glamorous cloak
That hides a heart stone ugly, rude and crass.
Sweet beauty is not always golden truth
And truth is rarely simple beauty blessed,
For outward grace seems more the veil of youth
To stand brief moments there by springtime dressed.
But you, dear you show beauty from the coeur—
This truth affirmed where here I so defend
To state this peerless garment that you wear
Will age unblemished to the very end;
Most beauty is not truth that’s outward seen
But more charm’s aspect flaunting virtue’s mien.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 530

What is the essence of a dying man
His power leaching to the universe,
His legacy while yet a story grand
Soon eulogized by lofty words rehearsed.
What to remember when he passes on,
Bombastic praise by which proud life is scored,
Brief gilded verses of a life long song
Refined beyond all truth and into lore?
What if we said he lived and laughed and loved,
Saw sunrise and sunset as much the same,
Gave glory to the power that stands above,
Saw death as but the ending of a game?
Humility contrite to move the crowd —
Where then the bells might seem yet twice as loud.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 529

What say of love fair fostered on a smile,
That force to bind the twain upon first sight?
Why should dear Cupid choose to so beguile
Sweet innocents in such an amorous plight?
What creed shall baptize with a simple kiss
There forging bonds invisible to eyes,
While every mortal flaw to there dismiss,
Yet virtues small to every ear apprise?
Love is perhaps life’s greatest single power—
The triumph best of heart and soul combined
With all eternity constrained to hours,
All truth enshrined by love’s embrace to find.
Most life is dreaming, hope on hope to try,
True love’s the meaning found in every sigh.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 528

How shall my life have meaning when you’re gone,
What pleasures then would life have me prepare?
A meal alone with candle light? What song
Might raise my spirits nigh above despair?
What future path with footprints of but one
Shall lead unto horizons better blessed,
And on that journey what may set the tone
And on whose bosom shall my head be rest?
You are a part of me and have become
My living purpose and my guiding star,
So ever where I range your heart’s my home —
A constant refuge be you near or far.
Of this fair knowing, here I state to thee
That on your passing, I shall cease to be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 527

So swathed in love sweet cherished moments find
There hand in hand while nestled by the fire,
Life’s fondest joys to flicker through the mind
While ardent tears to eyes now do aspire;
I gaze upon the day that we first met,
Soft nights I held you tightly in my arms,
The bairn of holy love we did beget,
Remembered smiles that still my soul can warm.
I see upon the hearth a fading light
Reminding me of youthful days fair passed,
Beneath that blaze, orange embers do bedight
A glowing comfort on the somber ash.
Love is the spirit of the life it bore,
The pyre’s essence of the flames it wore.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.