Sonnet V: By Their Fruits

Posted by David Emeron on

I saw and I believed and then I knew;
As brick and mortar fell, and glass and steel;
And blood and flesh and fire, mien, and weal,
And hope, and dream, and aspiration slew;

And friendship, love and heart, and sky once blue
Now green with envy, angry red with zeal
Of hate, of lie, of wound no lie can heal,
And speculation knowingly untrue.

I heard, I disbelieved and then I thought:
How typical that supposition grew
So cravenly away from where it ought
To rest; from certainty that, shining through
This calumny, these wailing filth have wrought
This death–these filth who hide from what is true.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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22 responses to “Sonnet V: By Their Fruits”

    • Thank you Björn. These are touchy subjects of course, most would fail to comment. Truly, i would not blame nor would I fault anyone who might deign not to do so, no matter what his view.

      This one came very easily, as often do such things when one feels strongly or is affected deeply by some event.

      Not written on the same day as the event itself (9/11/2001) however on a day thereafter when on one of the rare occasions that my dearest asked me to write a sonnet, which I did, after which she said something to this effect, although I am, of course paraphrasing: “See that was easy, I’m sure you could write another one.” This was the first. The second is one which is set to repost tomorrow. (I think) Or perhaps sooner. Yes. this morning, I just checked.

      It is an attempt to sound serious but not actually be serious. Just another ode to the sun (of which I am not so fond, a fact of which I make no secret) You can tell, I think, that they were written on the same day within minutes of each other, by the short phrases contained in each. I still had its much more serious predecessor well in my mind. Its rhythm.

      I loved your sonnet, by the way. That fact might have gotten lost in all my babble. Obviously this must mean that I am feeling well enough to write a sonnet or two of my own.

      I have batted this about recently on my blog: I think it might be a nice thing to recycle some of my sonnets along with any new ones I may write.
      I am also considering merging this my sonnets and my sonnet blog into one.

      I am still undecided as to what to do about that.

      Also notice I’ve got the umlaut in your name. I usually do not do so (my apologies) I should commit the alt+code to memory but I realised I could simply copy your name as I reply to the post. Less nerdy, but much quicker. plus, not all my devices have easy access to the “special” characters. I should have thought of this before!

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  4. Each time I read this it takes me back to the day we watched the coverage of the 9/11 atrocities on the telly with The Child and our roommies all together. Such surreal horror. You sum it all up so well, my dearest.

    The wheel turns…

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    • True, although, I remember my reaction was not all that appropriate to the event: From not wanting to wake from my deep and treasured sleep prematurely, to my “Too Soon?” type humour, which of course, was and is my way of dealing with such horror. Though I will admit it would make me seem less than sympathetic to someone unfamiliar enough with me to know how deeply such an event actually affects me.

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    • It’s never “too soon” to place a boot atop the telly, dearest. The symbolism was well taken. And the grim laughter was our reminder that “man is the animal who laughs” and we were and would remain men – and stand as men.

      And the “too soon” was the event which we knew must come but hoped would be delayed. and delayed. perhaps until it was forgotten?

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    • Thank you. It is always a wonderful thing to meet a kindred spirit–not that I am making a claim to be or not to be, to plagiarise a bit. One cannot always discern my point of view from my poetry. Still, you point is well taken; and, to be truthful, I usually do wear my heart, and perhaps my spleen, as well as several other internal organs on my sleeve.

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  7. And when the tall government building in which I work shakes, I shudder and wonder if yet again it is happening and happening here. After these brief years in which we have gone from horror to political correctness in which we let those very murderers lurk among us, work in our governments, have access to our building plans and nuclear reactors, walk among us smiling at us and plotting who knows what new horror to bloom like a weed from hell….reblog this Sonnet often. Already most have forgotten the concentration camps, the Khmer Rouge. Don’t let 09/11/2001 sink into oblivion as well.

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    • I have heard this type of anecdote a time or two from others. However these events are not precisely forgotten–regardless of the fact that they may not be remembered. By this I mean that they are often in the process of being deliberately “disappeared.” I use that term in quotes because I believe that is the actual accepted term used among those foundations which are dedicated to the prevention of this.

      I very recently found a remarkable though not earth-shaking example of this which I will relate if you are interested. If you are, I may perhaps write a post about it–it really is quite interesting.

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    • A puff piece in the New York Times talked about the time wherein poetry was an Olympic event. I am sorry I do not have a handy link to this article, but the main elements of my anecdote involve the author’s assertion that little or nothing is known or has been saved regarding the event, the entries, the winners, &c.

      Now, while I believe there was nothing underhanded intended by the writer of the article–after all, it was just a curious little puff piece–this incorrect assertion illustrates the way in which the Times has long assisted in the disappearing of any history inconvenient to its generally statist and marxist assumptions, not to mention its generally apologist stance toward fascist regimes of all stripes.

      I am not being sarcastic in the least when I assert my belief in the innocence on the part of the author, however. She simply made the mistake of using the Times’ own research dept/system rather than simply typing a few words into Bing or Google. And certainly a Nexus search would have yielded plenty also. It took me a few characters and clicks to discover the entire history of the event, including a full accounting of the winners and the full texts of the entries themselves.

      To the Times, I am reasonably certain the trouble was that the poetry in question was often or typically romantic in nature and tended to exalt the human soul and its accomplishments and/or beauty (as one might expect the poetry of an Olympian of the past, present or future would and should be) rather than to be cynical and belittling of them–which of course is more in keeping with the Times’ own history of the promotion of ugliness and the denigration of beauty, particularly in fine art; and is well in keeping with its totalitarian/marxist assumptions and the post-modernism which supports those assumptions (ironically, most or much art considered post-modern by such people is over seventy years old, by the way)

      In any case, the Times obviously was involved actively in the disappearing of this information as well as in that of the type of art which promotes or exalts individual human accomplishment and the beauty thereof.

      Therefore, I am sure this effort in suppression, or properly: “disappearing” of the poetic Olympic event has long been forgotten by any and all still living. But all this happened long before Al Gore made the huge mistake of inventing the Internet ( !! ) and now such omissions are incredibly obvious when they occur. I have seen bloggers heat up those “intertubes and interwebs” to “white hot,” so to speak, when such things are discovered and/or dismissed or glossed over by established media, who are, by and large, all sleeping in the same bed and indulging in the same mass orgy of collectivist de(con)struction.

      (And this… is usually where someone quips: “Don’t sugar coat things, Mr. Emeron; tell us how you really feel!!)

      ((and this is also when My Sweet Mrs. Emeron reminds me that “marxist,” being based on a proper name, should be capitalised, to which I generally reply with something to the effect that marxists do not think “I” should be capitalised; therefore I am simply returning the honour.))

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    • I do not capitalize satan or the devil or hell for the same reason I do not capitalize marxist, communist, muslim, etc. It amazes me how the Times has also assisted with the disappearing of the Holocaust. As for the poor “innocent” who only used the Times research, she was following party lines and writing what was acceptable and publsihable to the Times. As an ex-member of the fourth estate, I know how these things work and why and so especially have an insight to the kowtowing of the press to the current regime. “Oh gee Mrs. Spencer – you sound so cynical!”. Yeppers. Damn straight. or my husband going, you are so negative. He is 10 years younger than I. I reminded him of one of the XFiles where instead of “The Truth is Out There”, it flashed “Trust No one”. But gee Mrs. Spencer, you sound so…….paranoid. Thus from a generation who has the attention span of a gnat and the unawareness of such things as the Korean War, Viet Nam, agent orange, etc. etc. etc.

      Oh David, I try to be hopeful and many times, I accomplish it. I write of beauty and love because if I write about going to hell in handbasket, I wouldn’t get a lot of likes…

      But I did unfollow a couple of sites today. thank you for that.

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    • As for the poor innocent, I was just giving her the benefit of the doubt, as would any Gentleman. Still I fear I am at least as cynical as are you; for I do find it hard to believe that she did not bother to perform a few clicks via google just to round out her scope on the subject about which she was writing. And, of course, if one considers this likely scenario, one cannot help but also consider that the resultant obfuscation was in fact deliberate.

      So…. : ) deep down, I fear I agree with you on all points.

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