Author: Loubert S Suddaby

Sonnet 369

On By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment
Good bye my love—I know you’ve found another,
And I will spare the anguish and the shame
Of lovers true now cruelly torn asunder—
For words and tears can nothing lost reclaim.
Your trunk lies ready, waiting by the door,
The note within requests you leave the key;
No need to settle any further score—
All bonds are gone, bound spirits now set free.
What does it matter what was said or done,
Or who did what unto, and when, and where?
This love that sprang from truth is dead and gone—
All hope lies razed, beyond a gods’ repair.
So bleeds two hearts that once blushed red with love,
Blanched in despair atonement cannot salve.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Word Play

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I’ll let the words run wild today
For I have nothing much to say,
No constraints of schemed up rhyme
Or metered feet restrained by time;
Just couplet hands soft held in verse
Where pleasured dreams their songs rehearse;
Why, similes and metaphors
Can wait in line outside the door,
Dropping consonants all the same,
Alliteration is their game;
Quick to strive for strong allusion
Hinting names of known conclusion;
Far too prone to anaphora,
Far too prone to simply bore ya.
Rude assonance and dissonance
Stay on the sidewalk by the fence,
For no enjambment do we need
To state how simple words be freed;
Hyperbole, much like my song
Is overwrought and over done,
And so I here, inversion prone
Do full accept each lurid groan;
Where did my precious words embark?
Why Onomatopoeia Park!
To jump and bump and squeal and screech,
It keeps them neatly off the street.
Deft in childish animation
Mimicking personification
Where in playful synecdoche
They grow a little more like me!
Not too shy to bend a phrase
Or to a strident voice upraise,
Not worried so to whom offend
Fair dreaming quite outside the pen,
Imagining that imagery
Is oft what you, not others see.
Where have my phrases gone today?
But why, of course, they’re  out to play.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 368

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Proud legacy born out of pure white snow,
Emerging as a changeling from the ice—
There ancient gods their charter did bestow:
A mandate to subdue the world by might.
‘Be fruitful, multiply, fill the earth,
And subdue it: and have dominion over
The sea—and everything that moveth;’
Almighty God proclaimed by cosmic order—
So did this pallid proxy rise to claim
The actions that those Holy words had sown;
With all the force that might and wit sustain,
He triumphed—land and sea and sky his own.
His brethren did his mastery adopt—
Yet marred with darkness all the work he wrought.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 367

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Born of false rib is woman—spiteful, mean,
Where often scornful jealousy abounds;
Mawkish and manipulative, sharp with spleen—
Where teared success in victimhood is found;
Triumph denied—why sure by men oppressed!
Dismayed to be judged by beauty’s breath alone,
Still then to don hypocrisy’s finest dress
And paint a face that mocks a happy clown.
Duplicity of heart to weave wild schemes
Where poison, lies and slanderous slights do dwell…
Then drifting off in princess-coddled dreams
Where regal frowns can conjure living hell—
Yet as you read, you roll your eyes again,
While I in cursive scrive pure truth by pen.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 366

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The colors of your youth will one day fade
And mark the abdication of your power;
Those pompous gestures that your courtiers bade
Shall here no more indulge each waking hour—
All this shall pass—cheap perfume on the wind,
A cigarette of time—and then it’s gone
With naught but memories of boudoir sins
To haunt the mind and render pride forlorn.
How many consort princes have bowed down
And found their grandest wishes rubbled quite?
The fondest hopes of love, razed by a frown—
Bright dreams of rapture lost in neon nights;
Yet when the final light of beauty dies…
A simple mirror daily shall chastise.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 365

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There is a pleasure in the naked woods
Within whose depths no equal can be found,
Where senses stir by all that life deems good—
A place where peace and harmony abound.
Ensconced amidst the rawest smells of earth,
Denizens draw the sweetest of sweet breaths
That echo back to Eden’s very birth
And all the pleasures drawn of nature’s breast.
Dear Mother Earth, forgive me, I have sinned
And shed upon you tears of acid rain,
By pride and greed and gluttony chagrined,
Natura’s body sold for wealth profane;
Woe that my fall from promise was so great…
Or that beseeched redemption came too late.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 364

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The truth of beauty is that men perceive
From that dear gaze where awed perfection’s found,
A vision rare, where smitten hearts receive
An image that might other souls confound.
In this resides sweet mysteries of love
Where myth and magic may at once be played
So every yearning heart might find its dove
And thus beguiled, rejoice with doubts allayed.
So judges love when two souls stand besotted
That in each other’s arms no fault they find,
Or if acknowledged, ever quick forgotten
As though sweet Aphrodite struck them blind.
I look at you and you do look at me—
Duped by our folly, charmed by what we see.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 363

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Blood, sweat, and bronze, shod hooves on grinding stone,
There of this strife were ancient empires born,
Yet all that vaunted might, where has it gone—
Rubbled to footnotes in some long-lost rune?
From fearsome tales to excerpts, leather-bound,
Weathered chronicles entombed in lines
Whose breathless songs once flouted hallowed ground—
Here quelled in dust, to parchment now resigned.
Is this the fate the mighty to befall?
That once upon a time, once long ago
A ruler, sword in hand, did govern all,
His stories scribed in boiling blood now cold?
A faded battered book recounts that rage—
As apathetic fingers turn each page.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Devil to Pay

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Get me through the day, O Lord
The seas ‘ave gone awry,
T’ree men ‘ave vanished overboard
And waves stand two masts high.
The sky now scowls ‘n angry black
And lightening scars ‘is face,
The wind does vary ‘er attack
But blows a fearsome pace.
Frenetic sea fanged mountain crests
Rise up upon each side,
Then yawning so to ‘eart arrest—
Dark gorges open wide.
One minute seems we go straight up,
The other we face down,
An extra push then we breakup
And we shall surely drown.
My stomach spent its’ ‘eaving job
And brine stings red each eye,
I ‘ug the stay and pray to God
For we seem set to die.
Where does the grace of ‘eaven go
When ocean furies rage,
Of plank and pitch each sailor knows
Is paid the devils’ wage.
There strafed by wind and flogged by wave
I raise me weary ‘ead
And see the tall masts’ royal yard
Against wroth skies of dread.
It was a sign I’d yearned to see,
That cross from out the storm,
I saw tomorrow where I’d be;
I knew that I’d be home.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Dreamer

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What do you do with a dreamer
That man who still thinks he can fly,
Whose heart is a vagabond schooner
And yearns but to live ‘til he dies.
Is he the one you would follow
As he treks to his place in the sun
And does his minstrel voice call you
To sing with him under the moon?
Life is a dream that awakens
In Hell or in sweet paradise
To whither our dear souls be taken
Depends on our truth and our lies.
So follow your heart as it beckons
And always to self yet be true,
Life is a journey that reckons
But still only asks you be you.
Then what about life with a dreamer
The one who can hope touch the sky,
There so let your heart be the leader
You never will know ‘til you try!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.