Sonnet 571

Stark frozen scenes now etched in ice and snow
Upon broad empty fields, bare and lean;
From out the hedgerows desperate shadows flow
Spilt on blank white now reft of gold and green.
A wizened sun ignites the icicles
Which slowly melt into bright tears of joy;
That gelid grip now seems inimical
As so to harken back the siege of Troy.
This hint of springtime dripping from the eaves
Turns harrowed thoughts to images of you
That heartens so a soul yet still bereaved
By your long absence, sadness still to rule.
Yet in those silver drops some hope to find;
But you still gone, and winter on my mind.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 570

For you alone make this grey house a home:
You are the sconce above the table fare
Which cradles light that so dispels all gloom
And softly accents loving fruit laid there.
You are the frill frond curtains of delight
That welcomes sunshine ‘cross the window’s sill
To fill drab rooms with cheerful dappled light
Which then upon swept spotless floors does spill.
The hearthstones warm still from the homespun fire
Where riddled coals bespeak their hearty praise;
The smell of fresh baked bread upon the air
And gentle laughter sung to souls upraise.
A god spun woman bright and fancy free:
The sterling best of female liberty.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 569

St. Nicholas upon that winters night
Did climb into his reindeer driven sleigh
Around which lay bright snow all glistening white,
Above him, sprinkled stars to mark his way.
A bundled pack of dreams sat by his side
And with a whistle crisp, his team trod air
To raise him on that magic moonlit ride
That he might bring the joy of Christmas cheer.
On pagan hopes his mystic coursers flew
As children of the world slept in their beds,
While hearts and hopes in goodness larger grew
As visions sweet of peace soft rest their heads;
And with that promise born of Bethlehem,
Spread mirth and joy and so, good will to men.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 568

What is the measure of a woman fair,
A smile, a look, an ever fetching gaze?
Sweet saucy curls adorning golden hair,
A countenance to every heart amaze;
A graceful carriage flattered by the sun,
A step, a stance, a stoop, a loving swoon;
A gesture light of limbs soft slender spun,
Smooth silken skin sheer shimmered by the moon?
What essence pure can capture heaven’s light
Distill it and then blend it in a song,
That every soul by scent, by sound, by sight
Beholds an angel rising from the throng.
It is a quested quantum few may know—
Still called by every grace, you mark it so.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 567

What does it mean that I should die for you,
That you might thrive, I give my final breath—
What greater act of love if this be true
To seal in blood, that promise unto death?
You show no pleasure in proud gifts I bring
And every joy bestowed draws fleeting smiles,
While stony ears hear not the praise I sing
And distant eyes gaze on me from a mile.
I feel as naught while you are all my life,
My heart, my soul, my being burns in flame;
Yet for faint blessings here my days court strife
Wherein I pray one day you’ll bear my name.
Love is a prison, thus it seems to be,
Where one who cares the least fair holds the key.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 566

What praise lies in the raiments of a king?
What power’s vested in a jeweled crown—
And to a spawn of earth, what psalms to sing
Where lineage alone confers renown?
What gives one being might by blood to rule?
What crux of life defines a better birth?
What forged belief is held by jesters’ fools
That they mouth scripted lines of paltry worth?
The merit of all men lies in their deeds
Where by invention they so prove their right,
For unearned honor ever truth impedes
And nepotism every worth does blight.
From crowded masses let that soul arise
To stand alone, reach up and touch the skies.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

A Lover’s Lament

What should I say of you and love
The nightingale and turtle dove
Once sang our song to Gods above,
What of love to blame?
You said my heart you’d ever hold
The hearth once warm now here lies cold
Dear promises sworn ever bold,
Now seeming damned to shame.
Still what to do when love is lost
And sweetest dreams stand naught but dross
All hope to Hell there seeming tossed,
What sweet joy to reign?
I see you now upon the heather
In sunshine or in foul weather
With another soul to tether
In your hapless game.
A wish, a whim, a prayer to state
An orison at Heaven’s gate
A malison bestowed by fate,
All shall bear your name.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 565

Ice water veins and muscles deft and right,
Rapt mind full fixed upon the gliding knife;
The grip upon the handle firm but light
As tissues splay so spilling forth their life.
A muted buzz to stem the surging tide—
Staunch suction pursed to swill the overflow
And now the corpus cleaved, a book spread wide,
Sheer layered lines glint ‘neath the head lamps’ glow.
Deep lies the demon in his hidden lair
With tentacles insidious and grey,
Pure malice mingled in dread deaths’ despair,
Of purpose but to murder or waylay.
The duel rages, hours in seconds pass—
And now the evil fettered up in glass.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 564

Splayed on my shipwrecked life I loll and muse
Enthralled by spectral forms that rise and fall
As white capped crests upon the rolling blue,
Wind fetched by storms now tamed to tempered squalls.
How vast the ocean, minuscule the strand
Who by the mighty main is ever tried;
Upheaved in ire upon approach to land
Froth fisted fury, conquest yet denied.
Ah still they come to wear the mighty down
As if by constancy they should prevail
And wax in force that nereids there may drown,
Spawned so by distant tempests, borne by gales.
Perhaps they’ve won here after all this time…
And I should now commend my soul to brine.
© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved

Sonnet 563

What care I now that you should love me so,
For were I gone, you would soon find another;
Yea, fore the grass upon my grave dare grow
Your arms would surely clasp a new coined lover.
What say we then that love should ever stand
Where simple audit often proves untrue;
What promise made desire can’t countermand
And so of ever after, what say you?
Love is a dream where willing souls partake
In fantasies of bonds that outlast time,
Where anecdotes of loyalty still relate
Cloyed stories of two hearts forever twined.
Eternal love proclaimed is wasted breath;
The dearest hope, feigned constancy ‘til death.
© Loubert S. Suddaby.  All Rights Reserved.