Author Archives: David Emeron

Sonnet: Hidden Virtue

Posted by David Emeron on

I thought, one day, I wrote a thing of beauty.
Later on, when taking it in hand,
And sharing it with those, as was my duty;
Neither they, nor I, could understand.

The virtue of a verse is that its meaning,
Often may completely hidden be.
And God, it seems, prefers a lack of gleaning;
With His truth revealed more cryptically.

I thought I could, from Heaven, feel Him looking;
Sung my hymn about it, none could hear;
Though none would deign to join me in my brooking;
Never did a votary appear.

I read, again, my words much later; and
I finally began to understand.

Intro: One Thing

Posted by David Emeron on

Once I wrote a thing
I thought very beautiful.
I read it later.

Did not understand.
All its meaning was hidden
From me and others.

The virtue of verse
Is that its meaning may be
Completely hidden.

God seems to like it,
Almost always, done that way.
He watches it all

From above. I saw
Also, and sung about it,
And no one heard me,

And no one sang back.
I listened very closely,
And I heard nothing.

I read it again
Much later; and finally,
I understood it.

Sonnet XII: (lyrical couplets)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn; and start
To quicken at the moment first I see–
And when I hear a voice and know ’tis thee.

Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
And skip when touch my cheek to quell my fear;
To pound its expectation of thy touch,
Doth fierce thou see my body shake as much;

Withheld how at its quiet pace I’d be
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as their beat would nary stray;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away.

If swore I, ne’er describe my heart to thee,
Then would it’s beating stopped forever be?

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

Part XII: (lyrical couplets)

Posted by David Emeron on

This, the most familiar form of rhyme
Is used in song and verse time after time

This the sixth edition came about
The gateway to familiarise throughout
Continue reading →

Sonnet XI: (Shakespearean blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I, ne’er  describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn for thee;
To quicken at a very sight of thee,
And every instant when I hear thy voice;

Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
How might it skip when dost thou touch my cheek;
To pound its expectation of thy touch;
That mayst, thou see, so fierce,  my body shake;

Kept secret I, its quiet morning pace:
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as they nary would diverge;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away;

If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart;
Would thence unheard,  its beat forev’r be still?

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

Part 11: (Shakespearean blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

Divinely “stepping rhythm:” blankverse–thou,
Most courtly poetess, to me once wrote–
To promenade as flawlessly anon.
Continue reading →

Sonnet X: (blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I: never to describe my heart;
How desperately yearns it so for you;
How quickens it at every sight of you,
At every instant when I hear your voice;

Withheld I: how it races when you near;
How might it skip whene’er you’ve touched my cheek;
To pound its expectation of your touch;
And hard enough, you see my body shake;

Kept secret I: its quiet morning pace;
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony;
My wonder as they long would not diverge;
Then, locked my paper, pen, and ink, away;

If swore I: never to describe my heart;
Unheard, would then its beat forever still?

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