© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Life is such a fleeting fancy,
Measured ‘gainst the wick of time;
Think about a one chance  meeting,
Leading to a love sublime.

If pure luck, I still can’t fathom
How sweet odds brought you to me,
All the stars in all the heavens,
How is it so meant to be?

Be it yet the gods above us,
Let them hear my glad reply,
Ardent thanks but paltry dross
For this love that here yet thrives.

If blind fate, then I still wonder,
Who or what or why and how,
Two hearts so can join together
In one perfect here and now?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

When April’s blossoms in your cheeks have turned
Into the withered blight of blooms past prime;
When youth’s proud pyre to coldest ashes burned,
And graceful poise now bends ‘neath heavy time;

When auburn tints give way to sullied snow
And brightest eyes turn to a shadowed grey,
When months and weeks and days all faster flow,
Gilt memories there into the mind shall stray.
’Tis then, perchance, your thoughts will turn to me—
Remembering so bold, brash love without peer;
A heart as large and constant as the sea,
And truth that stood your guardian without fear.
Now as you bask in golden memories deep,

Mourn love your fickle heart could never keep.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Oh, how my heart does pine when you’re away!
Desire’s like a hunger without end;
I yearn for little things you do and say,
And all the chords love’s loving does attend;
Soft eyes that with a glance, can melt my soul,
Sweet gentle voice, dear promises avow,
Fond touches make love’s primal juices flow—
So come to me, my love, come here and now!
Let us rejoice and live forever one,
And heart to heart so share each living hour
Until our care-filled work on earth is done,
And we embark unto that golden bower.
May hearts so joined here proudly outlast time;
And words here writ ensconce our love in rhyme!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Am I here wedded to that mistress Death,
Committed thus forever to her charms;
To feel upon my nape her chilling breath,
And too, the clammy clasp of fleshless arms?
The blanching kiss of frigid livid lips,
That leering gaze of scornful, jaundiced eyes,
The grotesque smile of gargoyles guarding crypts,
Choleric chants that ever seem to chide.
Long past the point of sin to yet atone,
No orisons of hope to gods implore,
Not but the fading wail of banshee moans,
Rude hurled into Hell’s pit forevermore;
Beyond the brink, where prayers may not annul—
Dark matrimony so consumes the soul.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

There is naught but sweeter,
Than a child in song;
When the sun’s sweet golden meter,
Make days so long.

The midas orb looks down
Through green leafed shade;
Dappling the ground,
Soft gold inlaid.

Orange tiger liles wave
To passing bees;
Beckoning brash knaves,
Yes, ravish please!

The lady slipper sleeps,
‘Midst mosses green,
Coyed in shadows deep,
And rarely seen.

Bright streams run crystal clear,
Rainbows and brooks
Rise slowly to the lure
From watery nooks.

Coyote calls soon stir
The thickening night
And lightning bugs inspire,
In fancied flight.

Warm moon soon rises there
From out the ground;
Sailing on thin air,
Without a sound.

Horned owls hail the stars
In muffled calls
And cattle call afar,
In lowing bawls.

The moonlight gilds the grain
In silver bold;
Where sunshine will at morn
Transmute to gold.

The world aglow in peace
Soft on the farm,
Reminding of the place,
My song was born.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Yes, she was quite skeptical,
I observed through my spectacle,
Yet still I wrote,
To get her goat,
And pen words respectable.

I tried antithetical,
And verged on polemical,
But still she frowned,
To bring me down,
And claimed it expectable.

So then I tried notable,
Though aimed quite for quotable,
That made her laugh
And take a bath;
I settled for denotable.

My ego susceptible,
To barbs so adjectival,
I took my pen,
Once more began,
An ode dialectical.

Approval undetectable,
Or praise non selectable,
She seemed to sink,
My words of ink…
Raised eyebrow conjectural.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Am I now married to your haughty praise,
That in each word I seek some paltry gain?
I supplicate, for eyebrows not to raise,
Avoiding frowns whose shadow might cause pain.
My heart, served on a platter, unrequited;
Assiduous mind attuned to your desire,
My adulation for you, ever slighted;
My hands, slave to your labors, never tire.
What fate awaits this prisoner of love,
Here in your service, seeming ever bound?
Unto your stolid heart what more to prove,
When in your hallowed crypt my heart is found?
To love so much is not to seek a cause—
For love alone I bear this solemn cross.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

In the dead of night, O wicked one, your smile,
Yawning wide, breathing poison on my soul;
Frozen in fear like some small frightened child,
Transfixed by demon eyes of burning coal.
Yet still you haunt me on these moonless nights
When I’m alone afloat on tranquil dreams;
When not one star dares cast its timid light,
Dark silent windows fogged by silent screams.
Murkiness deeper than the pits of hell,
Cold Stygian shadows that full cloak your heart,—
What evil form does your rank will compel
To stalk me still, though we lay long apart?
Alas, this fool once clasped a heart of stone—
Black blunder brief…forever to atone.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

It is spring time,
Time to sing time,
Let’s have a fling in May.

It’s time for love,
The sky above,
Will lift our hearts in play.

It is spring time,
Lovely spring time,
Let laughter ring each day.

Sweet blossoms grow,
Adieu to snow,
Be happy and be gay!

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.