So could these words survive all mortal time
And final eyes upon this memory gaze.
The last of course would have no need for rhyme-
Nor need to hear an ancient poet rave.
It is my hope that this brief simple verse
Would bring sweet memory of his dearest past,
And stay his dwelling on that evil curse
That left him here to be the very last.
To call upon the warmth of lover’s eyes;
The gentleness of his sweet mother’s touch;
A child whose truth he gently helped to guide;
Dear hearts exalted that did give so much.
For love remembered can all grief abate,
And smiles not tears should welcome heaven’s gate.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Since there must be this time, then be it now.
Yes, you must go, so bid your sad adieu.
Do not pretend and wait to knit my brow,
With honed deceit designed to run me through.
For months this heavy heart has slowly bled
Well knowing that this time was sure to come;
And bleeding so did thus release all dread,
Absolved my care, and wore my conscience numb.
We duel no more—all rancor here is spent,
And that which Heaven ordained is surely gone.
So if you were a gift from Heaven sent-
Then damn me to that Hell where I belong.
For love of god, you know I kept my oath—
And your black heart did but betray us both.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Perhaps, but richer words should guide my pen,
Fair lofty lines that seem from heaven sent;
Enraptured with the brilliance of the sun
Yet tempered with a moonbeam’s sentiment.
Some iridescent phrase that can command
And catch at once the hearts of those who hear,
Then with that stately power here commend
A gift whose worth endures through all the years.
This golden pen should scrive this for my love,
Yet knowing ink could ne’er describe her worth,
I meekly call to gods that dwell above-
And thank them for this angel set on earth.
Still, humblest words that spring forth from the heart,
Gift more than gilded pens could e’er impart.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

This morning finds me mute and so I write;
My spirit, sore and sullen as the day.
Yet with just bounty, sadly still I gripe
Of futures dreamt that wretched time waylaid.
Did I but choose or was my course fair given?
Did fate or chance etch lines upon my chart?
Will fortunes rise or yet remain unleavened?
Upon whose stage do I now rant my part?
No gods or kings have deemed this life as cursed,
Though long I’ve trekked, my course remains unknown.
If but an actor, no lines have I rehearsed.
If fortune’s fool, the die long-cast is done.
Should to this journey fate remain unkind,
The greatest hardship leaves my love behind.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

If slander stains my name, then be it so—
Rude jealousy takes aim at higher mark.
Men of just standing plainly come to know
That knaves and fools such drivel do impart.
Black words so said or writ are easy paid,
Only shaded minds provide them worth,
For  spreading such works to whose guileful aid?
And what dark craft gives such deceit its berth?
All men of sense do know, be well assured;
That truth trumps falsehood ever is the case.
In voice and action, lies will be demurred,
For truth, in time, can never be defaced,
And men of lies shall ever meet defeat—
And men of virtue ever will be great.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

It was not love that struck me at first sight,
Not Cupid’s dart that did arrest me there;
But something in an instant did ignite
A flame of passion that did surely flare.
And glim to blaze did swiftly grow anon
Consuming reason, wit and common sense.
Outshining logic which did soon abscond
And left this blind pursuit its recompense.
This swain did swoon and sightless ventured forth,
Proclaiming visions in so wild a state
That sober listener not yet weighing worth,
Felt sure he must fair gaze through heaven’s gate.
That love is blind ’tis but no wonder so—
For souls in love see not but beauty’s show.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

No power on earth supplants your boundless love,
And I, its vassal, sworn to service be.
Yet not for land, nor gold, nor gifts above
Do I submit to this sweet fealty.
Still, in these lines my homage is as clear
As any oath that ever yet was sworn;
And never was a pledge held yet so dear
That gods and kings all judgement may adjourn.
This love is as a passion pure and right
In such true service I am proud to stand;
Unto this duty I devote my life—
This vow to live until my life shall end.
By power of love I therefore crown you queen;
As in love’s labor, ever have I been.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Yes, every morning have I seen it so-
Heavenly orb arise on earth anew,
Bringing glad promise in a garish glow
Like phoenix born from ash where once it grew.
Thus climbs the fiery grace to zenith high
Then fades the conflagration here anon,
And in so doing proclaims darkness nigh
That glorious gift, scarce given, now is gone.
So rises human hope on gilded wings—
A promise flawed as any ever made;
Celestial malfeasance that ere brings
A dying floret to a living grave.
Yet though each morn false promise may portend;
Your loves’ my hope, and hope shall never end.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Yes, seasons change but not your constant heart,
Now in my autumn years I see this so,
Relentless change is etched on nature’s chart
And time may come—but time must surely go,
But no, not you, steadfast and yet unshaken!
Against the vagaries of time you stand,
And though, in words, your measure can’t be taken,
I count you still my lover and my friend;
For in glad life, no greater gift is this
Than love’s sweet pledge to weather callous time,
No memory is as strong as love’s first kiss—
Your toil, your trust, your truth lives in this rhyme.
Though changing seasons may yet squander life-
Could words attest…you’ll ever be my wife.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.