Sonnet 501

To my eye, dear love, you never seem old
For vision oft is hued by memory
As flooded eyes may change what we behold,
So may sweet visage morph in poignancy;
Thus when I look at you I see through time
As through glassed windows over gardens green
Where stands reflections, but beyond in kind,
The true depiction of that which is seen.
So does your present float upon the past
As paned reflection of a doubted truth,
As if upon your likeness, shadow cast—
A second image of your love worn worth.
‘Tis then my eyes fair swell with pleasured tears,
As I succumb to fond remembered years.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 500

One gold September God bestowed on earth
From out her mother’s warmth a treasure clear,
A precious joy of yet immeasured worth,
Love swaddled in soft robes of nascent cheer;
Tears stung my eyes that then began to stream,
Surfeit of hopes and dreams I held for her;
I swore to move the earth with might supreme
To every happiness her life ensure.
There like a flow’r she did in beauty grow,
A peerless blossom washed in virtue’s rain
With all the brilliance wisdom can bestow
And too, all deftness quite of brawn and brain.
With passing time, what wonder there to see
That she had grown to all I dreamt she’d be.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 499

Caught unaware, the dawn light slowly rising
My mind still coddling gentle thoughts of you,
Outside the waning shadow world enticing
Me to follow, as they softly bid adieu.
I know there to I will yet someday follow
When heaven’s torch no longer shows my way
Then shall I join them in their sleepy hollow, 
That place where emptied souls in sojourn stay.
You are still the purposed tie that binds me
To this wide stage that ever greets the sun
And stays my passage to the Calvary
Where, reft of you, I shall so feel alone.
For this sole cause in mortal light I bide,
That any gloom from me your visage hide.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Alberta Born

Alberta born,
That seamless sky that stretches tight
In dauntless blue abounds
And crowns that sweet terrain;
A glazed cerulean bowl that broadly spans
Mountain and bold prairie grounds
Awash in golden light of endless wheat and tawny grains
That wave to greet in proud salute 
The celestial Lord of days.
 
Upon that land where gods do play
There casting bounties wide with brash delight 
While wild rose horizons fade to gentle night,
And then the light of yet ten thousand stars
To burst upon mute plains and sandy bars
So sparking hope among those souls
Who ever lonely are.
 
The timber wolf calls out their woes
As if in solemn somber prayer
To wail the purple air
And purge the land of pain, his purpose be
To call upon and save those wandering souls…
And bring them home.
 
Around the heart spun fields of gold, 
Dark endless forests
Stand
An endless brave of sentinels command,
There ever manning guard.
Foreboding boreal shadows like a darkling sea
Where denizens do stalk and scare
Those timid hearts that may yet dare
To breech the stolid lines and so behold
The hollows where black stories told
Shall ever haunt the mind.
 
Oh mountains high!
That reach up to that peerless sky
Where hawks and eagles set, unfold and fly
To proudly hunt as days of old—
Unfettered feathered monarchs of the air
There blessed of freedom yet beyond compare
Where even mighty sovereigns stop 
And stare…
 
Upon those granite faces trickle down
The tears of joy that giggle into streams
Where rainbow colored fishes dream
In water yet so pure no man can say,
But knows to be thus baptized is to stay
Alberta born.
 
Again the sun to rise a shining morn
Yet now to gaze upon the sweeping white
And craggy ice etched main
With cloudy breath like plumes of frozen words
Of nivean praise rise up now as so to say
I love this more than any other day—
There heaven’s diamonds glinting on the snow
Jeweled riches yet beyond a kings’ command;
A regal show.
 
Who would believe that endless eider would bestow
A splendored blessed tableau
Where yet beneath
Creep creatures meek
Whose prayers beseech
That sweet ephemeral Chinook to purse and blow
And gently call upon that flowered paintbrush 
To erupt and claim the silent sleeping land
With stippled hues and strokes that rise, ignite
And melt the snow with living prairie fire.
 
Nor else on earth exists a state so grand
That swells the heart in boundless nature pure
And can the stiffest conscience stir 
In memories that can purely touch the strand;
Or move in truth, sweet flowing tears unplanned
Or cause their sons to give lives free of hand
For her great soul:
That those who see are so enchanted there
That they fair wish to die and be,
Alberta born.
 

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 498

Gold tints of honey tend the softest hair
And glints of diamond fire bright the eyes,
Rose burnished sunshine blazons cheeks so fair
Then fades to lips where crimson roses rise;
A smile yet of alabaster white
Shines forth on souls of those so blessed to see
That wondrous form obscuring heart contrite,
Untouched by spite or female vanity.
Oh Lord of life, what chance this beauty pure
Should walk the mortal earth and fore me stand;
The best my hope and love could yet immure
Bestowing here the gift of her sweet hand.
If life would bless us with a thousand years,
No ocean wide could hold my joyous tears.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 497

Ebenezer! Ebenezer! She wailed;
Her strident voice now shattered on the stairs,
Reverberating off cold claws worn rails
To grate upon my cauliflower ears;
There through a rent in velvet, stabbing light
That curdled in the dust like deviled rain
Swirling in a time warped tortured plight
As if escape lay down some sordid drain.
So did my thoughts now mingle in that puddle,
A morass there of anger and remorse
That rendered heart and mind a hopeless muddle,
White knuckled hope alone to stay the course.
A glint of brass upon the handled door
Now harkened to that heavy ring I wore.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 496

No words here writ shall canonize true love
For what of love survives beyond the tomb?
Nay, here and now embrace as though to prove
That living souls brave not the pending doom.
Feast now, drink now, tomorrow may not stay
To bring sweet hope to lives in compact joined;
No plan so certain chance may not waylay—
No promised bounty fate can not purloin.
Though we interred together may embrace,
Our bones entwined to grace the dusts of time
Of human shells unearthed, no hearts leave trace
That they outlast the cage that held their rhyme.
Then take my hand here now and lie with me
And flout that lie that lives eternally.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 495

Here now proclaimed love’s brightest star burned out,
No nova flash, mere lustrous fire to fade,
No astral blast to make stargazers shout—
Mere slow eclipse unto a cosmic grave.
The skies of night are now a darker place
Sweet lumens lost unto cold matter dark
To sail the rippled waves of time and space;
Blank emptiness from whence they did embark.
Of universal Love, no finer light
Did fall upon the earth from heaven above;
To those who viewed, no stellar heart as bright,
That shining beacon lit by hand of Jove.
Though eyes to heaven ever mark their gaze;
No finer radiance shall souls amaze.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 494

If I could light a star to mark your name
It would shine brighter than all stars before
And your pure essence boast celestial fame,
A beacon bright to herald Heaven’s door.
There you shall gleam more proud than Vega’s flame,
So will Arcturus pale by rayed compare;
Ired Sirius to Titan shall complain
While Canopus and Rigil shield despair.
So will your aura challenge yet the Moon
That her pocked countenance seek veiling cloud
While astral beings in their wonder swoon;
Telluric princess by Astraeus crowned.
There you shall reign in luminous delight,
Your peerless beauty so to grace the night.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 493

Why are you here but for the act of others;
Did they embrace in love—it matters not.
Where is your father or yet your mother
And do they care of him that chance begot?
What of the hands that rocked the newborn cradle?
Whose breast or bottle satisfied the cries?
Who left you on the stoop beneath that steeple,
Alone and cold beneath blank heaven’s eyes?
Yet you survived against bleak biased odds
There so to thrive despite that mark of shame,
To lead the course of every bastard’s cause
And carve in stone the wonders of your name.
On hope alone sometimes the die are cast;
Sweet life’s a gift with never why to ask.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.