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Monthly Archives: September 2014
Sonnet IV: What Remains
Although to thee thou wouldst that life is lost;
Declaim the shame of all that it contains;
My love doth live in this thou wouldst accost;
Yet see how free her innocence remains.
I would that shouldst thou know thine eyes may trust,
That she as thee such trial here sustains;
Though long hath life to her so dealt unjust;
Yet still she will her innocence remains.
I pity thee if still thou canst not see,
The difference from thy sameness she attains;
Though lost, thy life the same, my love is free;
Through this abyss, her innocence remains.
So deep the sweetness still thy soul contains,
I pray this day thine innocence remains.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence: click here to read it all:
Intro 4: Please Live
I wish the best for
Thee, and all that life may bring.
And thy life shine bright.
And despair for thee
If thou shouldst sorely grieve me
In thy deep despair.
Sonnet III: Why Weepest Thou
But true, wilt thou persist or see the way
Thou dost simplistic observations keep?
Or know, such faults as these, will oft portray
Intractable assaults when bound with sleep?
And once, when thou thy fortunes gather new
Canst thou imagine now this shining day?
Such limits spilt and providence withdrew;
Wilt thou thine old devotion disobey?
But seest thou such transcendent ways; as one
With tears of joy doth much that day push through
To innocence far greater, when begun
Thy long observed creation to undo?
Yet weep thou, and thy soul is Earthly spun
Into the deep, and ne’er to be undone.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence: click here to read it all:
Intro 3: Renewal
To this, resistant
Candidly am I this day;
One will be destroyed;
And built in its place,
Something finer and wiser
Than philosophers.
Sonnet II: What Is Kept
Take care young girl in what thou keepest real,
For what thou real profess, wilt thou become;
And be thy carriage drawn to thine ideal,
Wherefore should–pure for thee–white horses come?
This trap thou, from thy cold demesnes, create;
So frozen deep canst thou escape therefrom;
May not thy carriage, soul with ice conflate;
Through frost, could–lost to thee–white horses come?
How good or sweet, when meanness harsh thy word,
Bereave thine heart, and lovely spirit numb?
For passed thy carriage, thine entreat unheard;
And would–nor should to thee–white horses come.
Thy carriage, see to rancour’s cost, succumb.
And ne’er–not ere for thee–white horses come.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence: click here to read it all:
Intro 2: Reality May Bite
What is real to thee
So real does it ever seem,
May be a phantom.
Take care this realness
Is not a dagger with which
To slay thine own soul
David Emeron: Sonnets 