Sonnet 393

On September 14, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

The forward view of life from youth is long

Assured in hope, abundant fruitful years;

From aged eyes such span seems but a song

That lingers on the lips of those held dear.

How can the passing time our brains beguile

That years confound to weeks and weeks to days?

Would but the suffered length of lover’s miles

Contract to measured inches in these ways.

No, Time’s hand serves but his stingy purposed own

And rare he grants beyond four score and ten,

Bequeathing here at best on shackled loan

A bounty that will not be spent again.

I smile and gaze upon my child’s face

Where love and hope eternal, Time disgrace.

Sonnet 392

On September 14, 2020September 20, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Where is Sylvia, mystic maid of time

That for a moment reigned in passion pure,

Her shining praise full eyes once deemed sublime

Yet few did see that heart of love so sure?

The last I touched her, naked ‘neath the moon…

Her silken skin bathed in a lustrous light,

Slim arms askew as in a gentle swoon,

Strawberry lips soft parted in delight….

I faded from her chamber duty bound

Not knowing when I closed that shadowed door,

That I would there my sweetest love impound

And strive in search of truth forever more.

Though silver light may bathe all sylphs in kind—

No peace of heart until I Sylvia find.

Sonnet 391

On September 11, 2020September 17, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

How would it bless you more if these dear words

Might linger in the misty thoughts of time,

Where those who ever do so read this verse

Shall feel your essence in each written line;

Would that they dwell not on the pen held hand

That writ this proof, save for the passion framed,

For sweet in truth, a dullard could command

Some fervent favored utterance beauty named.

In simplest sense they might my ardor note

Perhaps remarking, ‘who so drives this soul

To strive in wanting cursive and so dote

Upon some mythic maiden words can’t show’?

But even in doubt I find my saving grace

‘Mongst souls like me who’ve gazed upon that face.

Sonnet 390

On September 8, 2020September 17, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Rest now my eyes upon sweet Chanticleer,

That rugged shore where winds and waters greet

Intrepid souls that bear life’s pompous jeers,

Proud dauntless hearts downtrodden in defeat;

‘Tis here you’ll find light balms to wounds assuage

And ever still, sound refuge from the storm,

Though out beyond the lea, fierce battles rage,

This port of heart and hearth shall keep you warm.

Here now lift up a dram to spirits raise,

And hearten so spent voices into song

That in sound verse we bless in righteous praise

This rampart of the soul that I call home.

As long as wind and wave shall kiss this shore

So bides my essence here — forevermore.

Sonnet 389

On September 2, 2020September 11, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Ah Sylvia, dear nymph of gardens green

Too soon we squandered all the sweets of night;

Now in the east a rim of gold is seen,

That scimitar which is a lover’s blight;

What pain to have you rise from ‘twixt my arms

To stretch and yawn and shake your sleepy head,

There so to fair awaken all your charms

But in so doing heighten partings dread.

A brief respite with you beneath the stars

Seems but a gift that is from heaven sent,

No slight of day will yet this image mar

Though memory such may seem but yearnings dreamt.

Daylong I tread as though upon the air,

For fain at dusk, I’ll hold sweet Sylvia fair.

Sonnet 388

On September 2, 2020September 11, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

The golden light of summer’s torch succumbs

Each day retreating more to southern shore;

In marched progression, lessening the sum

Of gilded promise that the springtime bore.

Now leaving darkness longer time to play

And bold Orion stalking through the night

With club upheld in endless search for prey

And sweet Merope ever in his sight.

So Ursus Major yields to hibernate

As winter’s grip lays siege upon the land

And too does autumn’s burgeoned bounty wait

To fill up cornucopias least and grand.

Thus is it now, and ever may it be;

The sun, the earth, the stars…and you and me.

Sonnet 387

On August 28, 2020September 20, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Love’s greatest merit lies in constancy,

That simple strength that bests the rot of time

And weathers all the blight there is to be,

Surviving yet the worst of mortal crime;

Believing she will triumph come what may

Despite the darkness damning fortune metes—

In this the truest heart will sure allay

The wretchedness that foul fate accretes.

As morning sun gives hope to savaged earth,

As gentle rain breeds life from barren ground,

As precious souls bestir in hallowed birth,

So in abiding rhythm is truth found.

In measured cadence love plays out its course

Against all odds, though they be blessed or cursed.

Sonnet 386

On August 21, 2020September 11, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Do what you will, and may you bide in shame;

Dishonor every promise ever made,

Let each dear nuptial utterance burn in flame

As you in lust your very worth corrade.

The sweetest angel may yet fall from grace

So may you thrive in second circled hell

Where I forever see your anguished face

Stare up in pain from that infernal well.

Perdition granted, you may take your leave,

Smug Satan waits for you beside the gate —

Loss of true heart your soul may yet bereave;

There is no time to dwell on love or hate.

Go then you must for he now beckons you:

A smile discreet, the devil has his due.

Sonnet 385

On August 7, 2020September 20, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

My nighttime muse has left me so it seems

Though passioned fire still smolders in my breast,

While silver moonlight buoys your face in dreams

To taunt my fervor with a visage blessed;

Black alchemy has turned my pen to lead —

What demon dare deny sweet voice of mind?

Where lies that nectar that proud ardor fed,

What dram shall coax parched lips of praise to rhyme?

I sit in silence swaddled by the night,

No need to lay my thoughts on paper down,

Your spirit dancing with me in my sight

That I entranced will view until harsh dawn;

Yet if my muse is gone, no more to see …

We’ll dance at dusk wherever you might be.

Sonnet 384

On August 3, 2020 By Loubert S SuddabyIn PoemsLeave a comment

Then march forever onward wicked Time,

Carrying the world with you to it’s doom;

And n’er look back upon your vile crimes

As you stride ever forward to your tomb.

May lines of purposed truth your story tell

To chronicle the worth there razed to ruin;

Of good or evil that your blade befell:

Sad effigies of hope lie callous strewn.

Relentless, obligate, cruel, unconcerned

Here always true unto your tyrant vows,

Determined to destroy, all beauty burned—

Charred relics of the past to but avow.
From forth a fire scoured plain emotes a flower;
‘Midst tears of rain, fair proof of beauty’s power.

	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