Sonnet 384

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.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 383

What would it mean to say I loved you more,
More than sweet sighs of poets past proclaimed—
The essence of true love needs no compare
And by such measure, is in part defamed.
Why should sure bond need terms like ‘stronger than’?
Superlatives like ‘sweeter none shall be’;
Or, ‘Higher than an eagles soaring span,
Far broader than an ocean, lee to lee’?
No, peerless love cannot be judged in kind
To pleasured unions on a former stage,
Not love affirmed abased to cadenced rhyme
Or purposed musings of a gallants’ rage;
It is a promise, here by heaven blessed
That when so true, needs nothing more professed.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 382

I set upon a jaunt in sun dried air, 
The rain of hours ago had passed away;
Of cobalt blue the sky lay broad and bare,
No clouds remained to portend wet dismay.
What pleasure more to find you on my walk
Into blessed woods that beckoned warm delight,
I bade you come and join me for light talk
That we escape the numb of boredom’s blight.
We made our way into the grottoes green
Past worldly worry and the weight of bond
Into the holy peace of sylvan dreams
That nourish souls of wayward vagabonds;
There laughter joined and in locked step and stride,
Found secret places hope and love abide.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 381

I wander lone amongst fair words that float
Into my conscience like bright clouds on high,
Wherein soft changing essence can promote
Grand images of splendor in my mind;
Ephemeral content which resides in part
Upon those tinted glasses mood may don
Or yet some passioned moment of the heart
That shines like errant ray from heaven down.
There shape unto new shape in auras form
That so aligns these icons of the air
Which scintillate in joy of rapture born
And morph into new visions strange and rare.
In loops of ink I weave a tapestry
Of love and light which I now give to thee.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 380

Forever blinded by a shameful past,
Nothing but retribution now to see,
Painting pictures ever more aghast
There always bound to was, not what might be.
Distraught by faulty grievances forgone,
Unable so to turn another cheek,
Not knowing that the truth of being strong
Lies in the placid faces of the meek;
Forgiveness, not forgetting vile sin—
For to forget ensures that naught is learned,
All journeys need a point where they begin;
What future lies upon a past that’s burned?
Ashes to ashes dust to dust presumed;
What profits love or hate to there exhume?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 379

What is beauty if not a gift divine,
Given by gods to bless the mortal few?
But as a garment that will wear with time,
That magic fabric still will not renew;
And yet what woman would not wear the gown
Of gilded grace that splendor can bestow,
So set to dress for but the here and now,
To flit and flirt amidst life’s greatest show…
Yet like fine dress of matchless thread there spun
No mortal weave transcends the bounds of fate,
From regal robe to dingy dowd undone —
All dims with time, save hues on heaven’s gate;
Sweet bounty granted on what price there paid,
Save anguish suffered when the cachets fade.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 378

Where are we now, we two of likened mind,
Our hearts and souls still bound together—one;
Yet of stark difference we in time now find
That each unto each personage stands alone.
What hand now reaches first ‘cross chasm wide?
Which lips express remorse unto which ear?
As we in pressured silence time now bide
Wherein each failing minute seems a year;
We cannot lay dear love in battle down,
And watch her blood drain dry upon that field;
In homage to sweet past my head I bow
And so on blended knee now choose to yield;
I cannot live a day without your love,
Your heart this invocation may so move.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 377

The land afore from which I sprang calls true
As church bell clear upon a Sunday morn,
And memory such of all I know or knew
Comes rushing back in echoes I have known;
The farm springs to my sight in green and gold
Pastoral scenes there burnished by the sun,
Sweet memories rise in tears eyes cannot hold
And silver rivulets down worn cheeks now run.
There sparkles bright the lakes and streams I swam,
The trees I scarred with hearts of love once dreamed,
The hills still ringing with proud songs I sang,
Broad pastures fields where on soft moonlight gleaned.
A boy once left those fields, the earth to roam…
And of a world so wide, still calls them home.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 376

I met Sylvia by a laughing stream
One broken fragment of a summer’s day,
She floated to me, a sylph born of a dream,
Her raven hair festooned in ribbons gay;
A hint of perfume on the incensed air,
Sweet ardor smoldering in the golden sun
With eyes afire and simple soul laid bear—
I fair rejoiced in triumph seeming won.
Warm flowered lea soft embered into night,
The sighs of love enraptured in a swoon,
Her naked skin slim silvered in faint light,
Cascading hair now rivulets of the moon;
And flesh unto seared flesh in passion burned:
Of love or lust two hearts lay unconcerned.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 375

Being born of a worldly age I bow
To all the teachings history may show,
For oft when choosing action for the hour
A lucid past may wisdom there bestow.
What has been done before oft shows the way
Wherein effect and cause play out their part,
So distillations of steeped time may sway
Resolutions the tried and true impart.
Thus may we learn from pondering prior faults
And glean from them as much as triumphs past;
To shutter knowledge such in ancient vaults
Is to be blind at how life’s die are cast;
For what’s to be oft rests on what’s transpired;
Odds favor acts of wit and worth conspired.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.