Sonnet 556

On September 12, 2022October 2, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

As morning sun shall rise, so shall it set

To mete again a sweet or bitter day

And so once surely gone, it rises yet

To mark of time in single candled ways.

So measured life in darkness and in light

Plays out in puppet shadows on a wall

As if by some mischievous manus sleight

Designed to there amuse or yet to gall.

Forever from that sconce sweet hope is shone

So life is bourn amidst quotidian dreams,

Penumbra shadows that do wax and wane;

A trite ombromanie upon a screen.

There still we dance beneath that rising sun

As shadows prance ‘til dark of night shall come.

Sonnet 555

On September 12, 2022October 2, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Where rests sweet love when we impassioned are

By petty piques that dearest hearts defame

As nimbus hulks block lights of shining stars

And conjures up a dank cold chilling rain;

Soon angry waves upraised by distant fetch

Do raze their rancor on the stone cragged shore

As if dumb rocks were but a hapless wretch,

By site alone to bear that fearsome scorn.

So where hides hope when darkness damns the sun

While gales lay siege to twist and tear the trees?

There salty spume white fingers rake the strand

To mark in flotsam, scars of vain debris—

There withered hope survives to yet cling on

The stoutest stones that love lies based upon.

Sonnet 554

On September 12, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

I brought you true a bouquet of the sun

Fresh plucked from fields and ripe with heaven’s praise;

You placed them in a jar and hummed a song,

Arranging blooms beneath a happy gaze…

Then turned to me and beamed a radiant smile

That took me back to sun drenched meadows fine

Where from I’d walked that jaunty joyous mile

‘Midst orchid scents and sassy pink orpines.

I had no gifts to bring save but those flowers

But you received them as a treasure pure

And on your porch we sat and talked an hour,

Rapt poppycock and nuanced airs demure.

Of chances lost, this memory still out stands—

That I had not the strength to hold your hand.

Sophie

On July 31, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

So she was fallen in the night,

By limbs now wizened there betrayed;

A tired heart bereft of might,

A body beaten, time decayed.

Did she perhaps call out my name

That I return the help she gave

For but to render there the same,

I might have eased her to the grave.

But I was many miles gone

With arms too short to reach her hand,

The love and life that she did spawn

Now wandered in a foreign land.

Perhaps she knew I loved her more

Than sons have ever loved a grace

And from my breast sweet passion tore

The wish that I had seen her face,

And told her in that fading light

That all she did was good and right.

Sonnet 553

On July 30, 2022October 2, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

So do I love you now, as ever, more

And nay, it matters not if you love me

For unrequited yet I bear the scorn—

So indivisible this pledge to thee.

Here bid me leave and heavy I shall go,

Tell me stay, and loftily I rejoice;

To love’s command my future I bestow

So be that power in your darling voice.

Love’s grace is not contingent on a plan

Nor does it bide upon some sole decree,

It is a force ethereal and grand

That binds like souls in peerless harmony;

By word alone I here so live or die:

Love is to be, and never wonder why.

Sonnet 552

On July 30, 2022October 2, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

What does it matter that we loved a day,

A week, a month, a year, a lifetime — more?

What matters most is not what time should say

For depth of passion ever bests that score.

Time more confounds but ever yet subtends

The mortal measure of sweet ardor spanned

And so, despite the blights all love contends,

Exalts that honored hour she commands.

So be our time together short or long

And ever like the tides, love wax and wane;

Though notes of doubt may tremulate our song,

Within your grace I pray I shall remain.

Let time but stay as sequent seasons changed

And through it all our love remain the same.

Sonnet 551

On July 30, 2022October 2, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

What loathe defeat by blackest infamy,

What loss of face, what coup to dearest pride!

What sour chagrin locked in that note to see

Sweet proffered troth in curdled ink denied.

My heart cleaved quite by simple words alone

And rended so upon a parchment rind;

A strike through flesh unto the very bone

Where never seemed a blow yet more unkind.

You do not love me, acid ink propounds—

That kneeled pledge within your drawing room

Shall ever truth and beauty’s hope confound:

All meted life from here a living tomb.

Was I not worth a meeting face to face…

What gives you might to so proud love disgrace?

Sonnet 550

On July 30, 2022September 12, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

When I first touched your hand I cannot tell

For in the mists it lingers with your smile

To resonate much like a soft rung bell

That gently fades into the distant while;

And when of time we shared the primal kiss,

Of many since, it seems a drop of rain

That watered so broad fields of endless bliss

Or gilds but yet the vast and plumbless main.

So bless sweet time that blurs when it began

There clouding memories of love’s prime embrace,

So seems the blush of fervor on the pan

That once ignited, ever souls engrace.

It matters not when love first claimed the heart;

It matters most that we shall never part.

Sonnet 549

On July 30, 2022July 30, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Now summer’s velvet, haughty, hot replete

Of burning incense borne by August blooms

And sauna skies to baste in hothouse heat

A listless earth bewitched by Maenad tunes.

Cicada screams now undulate the air

As grackles stalk the misty seas of green,

Dark starlings march, black lines of bleak despair

To seek, destroy, dismantle and demean.

That regal eye now burns into the souls,

Dense hapless few still prostrate on the ground

With mien beheld by brave or abject fools

Who yet defy reprieve in shadows found.

By shade of umbrage, so bemused I squint,

Bemoan my state and raise a julep mint.

Sonnet 548

On July 24, 2022September 12, 2022 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

With summer’s heat now simmering wilting trees

And not a zephyr’s kiss to daub my brow,

I longed for cloud or best, a gentle breeze

To cool my face and soothe it’s florid glow.

White cotton twill fair melting on my skin

Now sopped in sweat, damp hanging in despair;

Rank smell of roses burning in the sun

And lilac pyres’ incense on the air.

A wing aloft, poor Icarus aflame

Circling slowly searching for some shade,

Perhaps a vulture skirring for the lame

To mark in pirouettes, a looming grave.

So sat I sullen, winter on my mind…

And were I there, soft praying warmth to find.

	Storyteller Sabya on Sonnet 176
	taphian on Sonnet 167
	Loubert S Suddaby on Sonnet 99
	marandarussell on Sonnet 99
	Daniel J Buro on Sonnet 80

	Storyteller Sabya on Sonnet 176
	taphian on Sonnet 167
	Loubert S Suddaby on Sonnet 99
	marandarussell on Sonnet 99
	Daniel J Buro on Sonnet 80