Author Archives: David Emeron

Sonnet: Gone

Posted by David Emeron on

Through countless centuries you’ve gone with me.
You’ve followed me from world to world it seems;
To other galaxies and into dreams
Of lands that never were or will not be.

Whenever from I call, you’ve heard my voice,
So ready to be taken to the place,
From which I, longing, called to you. Your face,
Alight with angels’ fire, so too, with joys

Of more, and greater, joy which was to come;
Of promised beauty that you knew you’d see;
Of past events whose fabric only we
Would touch; of futures, countless, and wherefrom
My dreams, if held alone, could not come true—
So meaningless, if not because of you.

Intro: Everything I Do

Posted by David Emeron on

The second time she
asked me to write a sonnet,
this is what I wrote.

Everything I write
is for my wife. Has always
been. Shall ever be.

Everything I do,
my very life. As much hers
As it is for me.

Hers is every word
as I write, or as I read–
graphite, ink, or throat.

I think I may have gotten carried away there. So I might as well present in proper format all of the above.

Written in July of 2012. Does it count, or not?

Sonnet III: Dark Lady

Posted by David Emeron on

O Mistress of the Light, why burn thine eyes
So bright? What mystery dost thou reveal;
What stranger thee, thine eye to me conceal
Within thy night, thine opalescent skies?

O Child of the Earth, Who guards so fine
Thy berth? Who hath consoled thine eyes of pain;
And giv’st thee hold, to lands controlled? Explain
What purpose gives’ thee worth to thus enshrine.

O Mistress of the Dark, When shalt thou next
Embark? Dost one thou know as darker still;
So dark as goe the depths below? But thrill
Such depths, as stark, Cimmerian, as vexed?

As vexed, but thrilling still, thou next enshrine;
Thine eyes reveal concealing skies so fine.

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

Sonnet II: Rebirth

Posted by David Emeron on

Still, this fearsome sibylline wonder falls
Silent to her very parting lips.
Her soft, resilient splendour candid dips
Below her barren, naked, winter halls

The silent wind who lulls; a stolid wall–
As a river empty of passing ships
Creates for her a quiet, lulling crypt;
A place of fitful reverie that all

Might pass unheeded. Still it signifies
Her needed rest; her ever-present pain;
A tribute to her elemental dance,
Whose song remains in echoing reply.
Sing, my Goddess, sing thy great romance;
Thine awe inspired dance wast not in vain!

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