Do you see how very
Precarious are those good things
Within all our lives?
Author Archives: David Emeron
Sonnet VII: Lotus
I lid mine eyes, yet not in sleep, but wake;
Not hid to prize the darkness, nor to see;
Nor magnify some other sense; nor be
Bereft of beauty; nor once more forsake
The heft of duty, as a way to break
The thrall of such cacophonous debris.
Nor shall so thin a veil set me free
From youthful ties, nor hail its mistake,
Nor truth, nor lies, but merely grant repose;
Which waking purpose, clearly, I’m inclined
To take, whenever I may know such throws
Of agony or bliss. And when I find
Such irony as this, I then expose
Myself, to all the wealth, in all my mind.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 7: My Every Day is Tried and True Enough
Something I should do
Or more often I should do
Everyone should do
Sonnet VI: Violets
‘Til noon, before these Violets lovely stir
With bloom that splendour morning’s promised awe;
Too soon, I made my contract, drunk on her
Perfume, and swore this compact as my law;
And strewn for all, to savour all the more,
Presume this Moonlight-sweet enthralment were
Immune to circumstance; that here, before
The gloom, ill-fortune shan’t to these occur.
From Moon unto Aspasia, then, I go,
Subsumed by Columbine ’til Dawn’s deplore,
Marooned and Wild; to Corsican I know,
Entombed this fivefold Covenant I swore;
And prune such flaws, assuming naught will show;
Festooned and drawn: my doom from long ago.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 6: Such blooms are not
or no… perhaps they are
subject to pressure more
than merely formative.
Sonnet V: Her Majesty
A word, then two, a fountain like a stream
That wears away a mountain. Time, a spring,
Reflection over aeons; it can bring
Perfection. Though it presses down, extreme
In ways of mystery. Its form can seem
To press its history: On such a common thing
As common coal–transformative–may wring
A diamond fine and whole. And so supreme
A form may limit, yet such limits might
Become the set of forces pressed upon
So commonplace a line as these I write.
The queen of all poetic forms: I fight
Her storms of pressure, educated on;
And open up my mind to all her light.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 5: One more way to write
One more way to write
My favourite in stages,
First, second, and third.
David Emeron: Sonnets 