Monthly Archives: January 2015

Alone | RL King:A Written World

Posted by David Emeron on

I so remember writing such things as this below:

I have walked, Alone
Most often, when I needed someone most
I have pushed and pulled
Don’t think I do not know, Alone
This variety of Alone
Has a different torment
For I will never find a partner for this Alone
There is not that hope
Not that imagined dream
The hand has been dealt
And it has a bitterness
It has a solitude indescribable
To teach spirituality, Alone
Drive across snow covered hiway, Alone
To sit, and bear the burden of all I am to teach them, Alone
A conscience weighed with never being good enough, Alone
To return and speak to God, Alone
Wonder if he hears me, Alone
Do not speak to me of, Alone
That, is a lifetime for me
A lifetime,
Of Alone.

via Alone | RL King:A Written World.

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Sonnet IV: Sandcastles

Posted by David Emeron on

Is there a way that might I ache yet more?
For, missing thee is more than can I stand;
Yet also, do I ache by my own hand
For fearing action, boyish on that score,

That would us bring together all the more.
How pure would be our life were I a man?
If rather built, a castle than of sand,
I could, a dream produce in granite, or

At least, could give some substance to our life,
Which long we spun with threads of gossamer.
Remote, has been our touch–not man, nor wife,
Could we, ourselves, have truly called, for fear
Of facing a reality too sad,
Dispersing but what little web we had.

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

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Sonnet III: Alone

Posted by David Emeron on

How can I feel my life without the touch
Of love’s own sweet, pristine, embracing calm.
How then can I exist without as much
As any common man in any realm

Would have, without much more, perhaps, than bare
Awareness–not so much as realizing
Fairness that exists within the care
Of natures quickened earth–whose mesmerizing

Beauty touches all mankind for better
Or for worse. For deprivation is
His Lordship’s curse. His worth alone, is met
By sky, and sky, in turn, by earth. And His

Domain is cold, and far removed from She
Who hungers so relentlessly for mee.

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

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Sonnet VI: | David Emeron: Sonnets

Posted by David Emeron on

Of late, I thought to revisit this one which is so framed, now more, in the tradition of such things.  Very “chaffy” of me to mix mythologies as do I here:

In aire dost, poise thou in His image, fly
Perfection! bronzed against Hyperion’s blaze;
Exalted! at thy nadir by His rays;
With mastery! dost thou hold thy piece of sky.

In aire, for thee, hath stoppt all time; on high,
At perfect flexion, as His Son displayed:
Retract, and tense, ’til once thou deign obey
His gravity, that deign thou not defy.

Down! by His unseen force, to Earth art thrown;
Descend thou! as I gasp–thy devotee.
Thou! slicing air! perfection still outshone!
And twist! and roll! and turn! to all degree!
As fly thou through devoted hands alone
With thee, who hast so Godly kist the sea.

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