Monthly Archives: October 2014

Sonnet II: What I See

Posted by David Emeron on

Could, fine as you, another woman be,
Who surely has no equal on the Earth?
Could there have been some perfect virgin birth
Which consecrates impossibility?

Could there exist a worthy bond, as we
Have formed, through such a perfect sanctity?
Could one unearth a work of art, so free
Of flaw as you? The Angels would decree:

God made the Earth; one miracle was done,
And then within His realm did he make two.
No wonder of the world could have begun
Until the Great Almighty God, who knew
His Miracle, complete with only one,
Created me, and gave this gift to you.

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

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Sonnet I: What I Do

Posted by David Emeron on

But can it be that I my love shall see?
May I expect a miracle again?
Is finding, once again, my dearest friend,
My Sister-Love, a possibility?

Our struggle has been cruel irony
As such, do I suppose, will be our end;
But for a little while I shall pretend
That this, the preordained, will never be.

In fact, I will remain God’s loyal slave,
Indentured ever, hoping for reward.
So Elevated, now, above the Knave,
That I can plainly see where such is stored.

So sure am I of God’s Great Path for me,
I know that He forgives my enmity.

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

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Sonnet IV: One Step Away

Posted by David Emeron on

But really, I am fine as I began.
Without the curse of living free from strife,
I really have the very best of life.
Although not much is mine, I truly can

Bespeak my luck. I truly am a man
Who cannot duck his purpose, who is rife
With strength to take his coming step. That life
Is something best among, or better than

The best the universe can offer me;
Or better still–the strife that makes it sweet–
Its promise will, so  lift and ever free
My soul for endless triumph and defeat.
If only God, who gifts me so, could see
The need to keep His gifts to me discrete.

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

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Sonnet III: Step after Step

Posted by David Emeron on

First, second, third, and fourth, I walk alone
With measured footsteps, each one as the last;
My future is as hopeless as the past;
These plodding steps, the only things I own.

I face my work, I wake, I sleep, I hone
My pace to take more measured steps. Not fast
Nor slow, I have become adept at last
At going nowhere. See how I have grown

Such roots, and with such care, which but permit
The taking of a single measured step
And then another–fancy how they fit
My feet. This pace would scarcely ever let
Me eat, except that I might starve to death
And that would end the measure of my breath.

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

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