Category Archives: Sonnets

Sonnets, or anything I call by that name. Sometimes an invented sonnet-like form.

Sonnet XIV: The Rise

Posted by David Emeron on

And presently, they elevate, perfect
Our quiet and declining count, we save
Each existential blossom and reflect
Upon the primacy of each. Which gave
Our speech determination, therefore brave.

Perhaps, rededicated selves might lift
Anon our wishes to our great affect
For aspiration’s sake, aspired swift;

Or aspiration’s truth would ring
As true, and flower our inspired gift.
But whatsoever fearlessness might bring,

Could elevate our transcendental all.
And every waking moment that we sing,
Depreciates, abates against the fall.

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

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Sonnet: Weight of Time

Posted by David Emeron on

In gentle whispers, falling time doth pass,
This fleeting breeze, its leaves fly swift and brief,
Yet stirring in its wake, a weight amassed,
A burden borne and cast by every leaf.

For once the years and even decades flow,
The weight of ages on our souls descend,
We feel the heartless weight of time’s cruel show,
That all, that even we, must meet an end.

But in this truth, have we a solace found,
For though our numbered days be numbered so,
That time… and time… and time… doth not confound
This love we share; that sharing memories grow.

So let us, therefore, not in sorrow dwell,
But face the weight of time we choose to tell.

–For Elon Musk,

–And for my Sweet Love on Christmas Eve night.

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Sonnet XII: How Am I Kept

Posted by David Emeron on

When doth she strive to him in comfort keep;
And strive, withal, her heart, and sweet, her hands;
To soft his dreams, so gentle on their way,
His thoughts to soothe and calm his restive mind,

That quick across the vasty star-fields leap;
So never may alight the shifting sands
‘Pon any mote to pause that might delay,
Of all his thought, its whirling dance combined.

For, never doth requite his mind in sleep;
Not even as the God of sleep demmands’.
To wake him, doth she hear temptation say;
Yet I’m, to her illusion, not inclined….

Desire, thou bent all deep toward what commands’
My peace; for next the day, this night would find!

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

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Sonnet XI: Her Peace

Posted by David Emeron on

So dreameth now my love again in sleep
And smileth angelic, she; though dream
Not angels, as His children may create;
As we alone were from His image made.

And deep, she doth within, such wonder keep;
Such visions, perfect in her care, doth seem.
My love so doth me gift, in perfect state,
This firmament some deity forbade;

Wherefrom I am forbidden still to leap
And soar and glide, so bright above, supreme,
So realised, hath she made, though inchoate,
Where she, these gardens of delight, hath played.

But still I weep, that safety, my esteem
May not create, when demons there invade.

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

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sonnet X: As Thou Hast Seen

Posted by David Emeron on

Of mee, thy love, hast thou such wonders seen,
Though many true, hast not thou seen these all;
Hast not, my dance as stole thy breath away,
So long before and far removed from thine.

Imagine thou what doth breathtaking mean,
If watch me dance thou wouldst as watch me fall.
And long before, this beauty I convey,
So lovely, this I played, who’s bow were mine.

And this, by thee unheard, and thee unseen,
Hath made the harsh to weep, the weak to pall.
Yet heard, hast thou, my song most every day;
And seen thou, throngs, as water turned to wine….

And yet, thy mien my love, could angels thrall;
One day, in Heaven, show me these divine.

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

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Sonnet IX: Thy Bounty

Posted by David Emeron on

Of mee, my love, hath she my bounty seen,
And hath she of this bounty seen but all;
Hath seen, as heard, and felt, my music play;
If that I love, or that were truly mine;

Hath watched me towering creations glean,
In theory penned, or realised, standing tall;
Hath known the speed at which, once under way,
Some skill, once undertaken, I refine;

Hath seen me write of love, or vent my spleen;
With verse or prose delight her or appal;
Hath she the whole of me, in full display;
Doth praise; with admiration, doth enshrine.

Between such adulation and enthral;
Pray, shall I tell, of that I know, of thine?

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

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Sonnet VIII: Shadowlands

Posted by David Emeron on

My love, to shadowlands, again thou dost
Return; I may not see, I may not know
These lands wherein thou wanderest; what light
Enchanted dost thou follow through the mist.

Though taken fancy hence where fancy must,
I may not follow thee where thou, below
Might sink beneath; nor even take to flight,
Nor feel what sky thou touched, nor what thou kist.

Nor may perceive, but that they turn to dust,
Such shadowed forms, where shadowdust may blow;
Nor climb where hast thou flown; whatever height
To know of what these shadowlands consist.

Yet trust my love to find where doth she goe
In dark her night; whereto her path may twist.

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

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