Author Archives: David Emeron

Sonnet: Taken

Posted by David Emeron on

Anticipation shaketh down below
Wherefore I shan’t release thee shouldst thou call
Or even beg, as seem thou to prefer.
I feel thee, languid, try my binding crawl

With tense delight enveloping thee slow;
So push and crawl and twist thyself away.
That every moment my delight would stir;
And ripping, take my kill.  And thou:  my prey,

Imagine, over all our blood doth flow,
When deep within thy flesh my talons rake;
And to thy plaintive cry shall not defer
‘Til take my fill of all that I may take.

This predator… no… nary turn around:
Thou knew’st, though he prefer his prey face down!

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Sonnet VI: How do I Touch Thee

Posted by David Emeron on

To thou, but when I see thee standing there;
My feelings, would I wish thee, hear me shout;
But when the fortunes of my heart despair,
May I thee touch, when can I not reach out?

So many times with thee my tongue were still,
And lay so quietly within its doubt;
Yet words would circle ’round my soul until
Thee sonnets write, when can I not reach out.

Yet words may leave my soul and heart as well;
And leave my hands as mute, my pen without;
How, soul and thought and heart, may I thee tell?
I play for thee when can I not reach out.

For, all my days I worship thee throughout;
In many ways, do I to thee reach out.

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

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Sonnet V: The Wraith who Played

Posted by David Emeron on

Long thence I, of thy miracle, so learned:
This, seeming to perfection, thou didst play;
Such beauty rare, I heard of this, thy bow,
That thou, such Earthly-wrought, couldst make Divine.

Such beauty, then too beautiful, were spurned;
For seeming not of Earth, thy beauty lay;
So rarely this, some Earthly ear should know,
This Heaven-wrought Divinity of thine.

To hear these rise from Earth to skies I’ve yearned;
Thy notes of such beatitude convey;
That soar and lift mee ’round where next they goe;
And to the stars that make, to thee, their shrine.

To paradise returned, I beg thee stay;
This music overflow; thy soul, to mine.

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

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Sonnet IV: The Wraith who Danced

Posted by David Emeron on

I close mine eyes–tight, to thee reprise–
Where vision’s current, swift; thy vision swept…
Away to take–fearing so to wake–
And quell thy current’s vision, tender slept:

For Love, I chance–came to thee, thy dance–
To beauty’s gracing thrill, my thrill to weep.
Thou leapt to fall–held me fast, thy thrall–
So lovely flight to last my thrilling sleep.

Too sweet thou shone–beguile unbeknown–
So dreamt I, never wake, thou wouldst mee tempt;
For sweet thou shine–gaspingly divine–
As moved me all to dream wherein I dreamt.

For, Love, I die… than–to vision’s eye–
Unlid thy current’s dream; my thrill, condemnt.

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

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