Sonnet 290

So close to life he lay, so close, still warm
His lids left wide, eyes bright in morning sun
Straw hair disheveled, wanting there a comb;
Red mouth agape as if paused in a song.
Still he was dead, I knew, forever gone;
Dried crimson on his chest betrayed his fate
As if some flowers pinned to breast were done;
Stained wilted time that harkened better days.
What must I tell his mother….he was brave,
Not that I heard him whimper in the night,
What to remember of the life he gave?
Not that he cried for home with failing sight.
What shameful sin, that patriotic lie —
That innocence for some false honor, die.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 289

Those precious tears that rise up from your eyes
Now let me know that I have been forgiven,
An hour ago my soul you did deride
Fair with the very right and weight of heaven;
I am not worthy, yes I have deceived,
Ranged far from heart and home and all I loved,
Not sure of even yet what I believed,
Prisoner of dark lusts there so enslaved.
But I have broken free those bonds, yes free;
Bashed through the sordid gates of living hell
So that once more your visage I might see
Before the sounding of that surly bell.
My tears join yours, I touch that lovely face
That through some madness I did long disgrace.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 288

So was her proof of virtue there not given
There on that marriage bed ‘neath eyes God,
Her eyes upturned toward absolving heaven
Though knowing she did lay a sinning fraud.
No honor there could stain white linen sheets
Save tears that fell in breach of piety,
That crumpled white did fists of guilt there pleat,
While love was consecrated solemnly;
In act ordained, now she a loving wife
Dubbed pure in heart through deference to sound faith,
Yet husband true did note the tears of strife
His visage shadowed in a smoky wraith wraith.
But God stayed silent, she relaxed her grasp…
Praying that in time, he’d never ask.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 287

Gold and vermillion here the colors run
Heralding retreat to whites and greys
Marking the surrender of summer sun
Whose lowly flight does now the land dispraise;
Scorched earth, the world ablaze, sweet summer lost
And now great fortune burning up in flame,
That verdant wonder that did hills fair gloss
Now pyrrhic plunder doomed to fallen shame.
Here still that final charge though brief was grand,
Though gold and crimson spill upon the ground
As blood and treasure from a conquered land
Stain sore the heart of vanquished king discrowned.
So kingdoms rise, so shall they meet their end;
The glory of new life shall life defend.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 286

When I am gone, my home shall be your heart
Amongst other hallowed places I once roamed,
Ensconced in bosom true, never apart,
Together we shall walk upon the brome.
When you look out across a prairie grand
Or at the Rocky Mountains purpled grey,
Boreal forests vast in proud command
Or golden fields soft temperate winds do sway;
There you will see me, face to burning sun
Or softly melting into stands of trees,
Above the tree line, victory nearly won—
Or wandering foothills like some errant breeze.
Your quickened breast will tell you I am near,
And we together have but god to fear.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 285

A shadow crept up on the wall last night
Cast by the pale moon’s soft eerie glow,
A silhouette so dark it beckoned fright
Yet still familiar, a shape I seemed to know;
It’s been so long, why haunt me now, I said—
You did not answer but the umbra smiled,
Silent in black, as mourning recent dead,
I rubbed my eyes that they not be beguiled;
What brings you now, cloaked in these widow weeds?
Stalking me by murderous murk of moon
Amidst the horror of All Hallows’ eve,
Haunting me from out some wicked womb.
Ah, but it seems the perfect night to call,
Where undead walk and evil may enthrall.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 284

Give me treats of Keats and bowls of Shelley
And Milton honey may my palate praise,
May bits of Byron fill my empty belly
My hungry pen it’s Worth in Words here raise;
When feasted well on Poe drown thirst with Blake,
Mead drink to Shake with ice or stir with Speare
Of mint, and quaffing so my soul to slake,
While musing yet on melodies of Moore.
May such a feast be blessed by wondrous Pope,
May Marlowe yet so toast this grand tableau
And somber Hardy lead us not to tope
That from gold tongues might tender verse yet flow.
There on sweet lyrics let me gorge my brain
And so surfeited thus my zeal sustain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 283

She bled a living red, her tears were salt;
She felt the paper cut of poetry
In images of love she found no fault,
White heart worn on her sleeve for all to see.
Serendipity brought her to my realm,
She’d read some lines somewhere, sometime before
Though not enough her soul to overwhelm,
But yet sufficient to unlock the door.
This meeting more than chance, it were to seem,
She was so seeking there my arms of verse
And in a moment, like some peasant dream,
She did my doubts of love sweet there inverse.
So now, in blackest ink, ensconced in rhyme,
We live on ever in this rune of time.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 282

Love lives not in bright fire but in drab coals,
Ignited by a spark, it roars to life
Consuming all by touch in lustrous glow
Feeding on itself in righteous strife;
Dressed orange and gold two lovers sway in dance
And lusty tongues lick upward at the sky,
No thoughts that on tomorrow’s ash they prance
As if a white hot love could never die.
But passions fuel wanes fast where love burns hot,
The dower’s boon engulfed in ravenous blaze,
More radiant the flame, more black the soot;
A conflagration such all eyes amaze;
And when the pyre’s gone, embers remain —
Yet to the truest hearts, such heat sustains.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 281

Though you may doubt, I’ve always thought of you
For where I’ve roamed, your visage followed me,
Whether at sea or on yon mountains blue
Your smile a rainbow of felicity.
By evening fire I felt you by my side,
Eyes closed to welcomed sleep, I saw you there,
No place I’ve gone on this great world and wide
Did my lone soul not pine to have you near.
Sweet love seems both a blessing and a curse,
A feather light and yet a heavy stone
To raise us up when we are at our worst
Or bring us down in loneliness undone.
For love alone, to see your wondrous smile,
No trek too long, be it ten thousand miles.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.