Seasons of You

 

The winter lives in blacks and whites
The spring in pinks and blues,
The summer in warm green delight
The autumn, golden hues;
In you I see all rays of bright
And yet soft shadows too,
You wear proud colors day and night 
And every season through!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Kaleidoscope Dreams

 

I kissed you in slumber my love
When you in sweet dreams did roam
With stars all a twinkling above
You made a tremulous moan
 
I stroked your dark hair and you smiled
The smile of a siren at sea
Your visage as soft as a child’s
I pondered on where you might be
 
Where do you sojourn my dearest
When moonlight swaddles your bed
There so shines your innocence clearest
As somewhere in dreamland you tread
 
Oh wish upon hope I could join you
In tall castles floating in air
A shining gold carriage for two
Would jauntily carry us there
 
Alone in a magical garden
In joy I would break into song
And praising in poetry ardent
Soft seranade until dawn
 
At sunrise when you awaken
Sure no one knows where you’ve been
A wink will make your heart quicken
As there of fond memories you glean
 
And so in moonlight when sleeping
May I then there hold your slight hand
To join you in reveries fleeting
And dance in kaleidoscopes grand.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 437

 

The tears of winter fall upon my sill
From frozen eaves the risen sun now chides,
Retreating snow is herded into rills
Conceding ground from which the fresh blooms rise.
So sweet the perfume in the zephyrs’ arms,
So soft the blush of nascent forest leaves,
Delightful more, idyllic woodland charms
Of vernal songsters revering on the breeze.
‘Tis now as ever thoughts will turn to love
And so of you this primrose promise brings
The chorused songs of angels from above
Whose vestal  strains give all life’s spirits wings.
I see you here in all that hope commends,
A world bestirred, a love that never ends.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 436

Your eyes burn with the fire that Caesar saw,
Your lips the sweetness Paris strove to claim,
Your truth locked in the charm Napoleon wore,
Your ardor’s might Potemkin sought to tame;
No storied torch of ages holds your light 
Which shines more bright than Layla’s kindled cause,
So striking Pyramus blind upon the sight 
Of Thisbe’s veil draped in the lion’s jaws.
No love more real, no ardor as profound,
No moment of desire could be more grand,
No truer heart by fate did love confound,
No knight more proud did ever make this stand.
I pledge my life to you forever more,
Where proved untrue, there put me to the sword.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 435

At times I write and poetry absconds
As if bound verse were longing to be free,
And yet my pen commands that it belong
Unto some stilted ordained harmony.
While any scribe it seems can dash out prose
As children often crayon outside lines,
But to so yet a cogent ode compose
While keeping it within the realm of rhyme
Is still the truest challenge of the bard
To have his rune perform as in a dance;
Where every stroke like calculated fard
Does paint in ink, drab features to enhance;
But let me state, a thought is still a thought,
Though writ by fools, and when it rhymeth not.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 434

Those pink blushed clouds and skies of baby blue,
Sun kissed of rose, the tip top distant trees;
Sweet feathered warblers croon fair loves to woo
While cherub buds soft sway upon the breeze.
The last of winters’ blight dissolves in tears
That join in silver rivulets trickling down;
Of denizens delight, the forest cheers
As vernal togs prim bashful floras don.
So is it now as it once ever was
The never ending constancy of change,
As when it seems that everything is lost—
There stands a bloom to yet of hope upraise;
I fare in faith, whatever life may bring,
For you my flower stay redolent of spring.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 433

Sweet love remembered, silent tears do fall
Upon my breast wherein that heart you hold,
While muted murmurs stalk the vacant hall
And whisper in the hearth that now lies cold.
Oh love more rare than any love may be:
A moment held, and in a moment gone,
And of such loss, despair to ever see,
Eternal aching left to me alone.
For but a second yet to hold your hand,
To kiss those lips in pleasure more sublime,
To hold you in my arms in rapture grand—
Perhaps I’ll be forgiven yet in time.
One line of this perhaps, I pray you’ll  read,
And crush my heart or yet grant me reprieve.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 432

Am I a fool believing you are true
When my heart whispers oft it is not so;
A slave to love and virtue through and through
And yet, of truth, still question where you go.
Your frequent absence stirs a doubt in me,
Your explanations ever seem contrived,
As if you think that I am blind to see
That sophistry our sacred bond derides.
Why can you not say love for me is gone?
Why must we play this soulless sad charade?
Why should we labor when love’s work is done?
Why here yet kneel when every hope is prayed?
‘Tis best you leave me now, our hearts unbind,
And we in honest purpose, soulmates find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 431

Long having labored in a different art,
One that did not ever fully feed my soul;
Still as a lordly minion did my part
And in sound measure, fair did play my role.
I mentored to the lame, the sick, the blind
And with keen blade I fought their dragons well;
Though everyday I did assuage their pain,
Of what lay vanquished, I could seldom tell.
While oft my passage lay in praise replete
I was still haunted by my failings there;
Of demons vile that I could not defeat
And of cruel carnage that did mete despair.
The path we choose is rare of reasoned rhyme:
Perhaps I will forgive myself in time.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.