Category Archives: Sonnets with Introductions

Sonnets and introductions to them

Sonnet V: 1914

Posted by David Emeron on

See there, what are those pestilent that smother
In the muck? And there, I see, ignored
Within the mire, more are stuck; and Lord!
Behold, one bunches up to bid another

Well! Though unobtrusively, its brother
It disdains with such a tell.  With bored
Enthusiasm, one will slither toward
A wretched thing as if to give the other

An award. But lo! What it intends!
Now can it actually be, to grant
The other honours and a meaningless
Degree? How sweet, if my corrupted friends
Would slyly acquiesce, to grant me scanty
Honours with an automatic yes.

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

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Intro 5: Strange Days

Posted by David Emeron on

I fell upon, particularly strange
These shores wherein I found myself marooned
Instead of somewhere infinitely light.

My voyage, it began capriciously.
And, though within it lives embedded form,
Possesses also an embedded soul.

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Sonnet IV: Heirs

Posted by David Emeron on

Ye Gods: Ye Old and New, and Yet Unborn,
Ye need not climb with Armies of Your Own
To banish each corruption from its Throne;
But light from soul to soul, and each adorn

With Grace; and watch as true believers borne
Will magnify the knowing and the known
Until they have unnumbered billions sown.
And someday, to their young, will point and warn:

See there, my daughters and my sons, that stain
There, crawling nearly lifeless on our height?
Dare you believe it thought it had free reign
To tear down what was Beautiful and Right?

And all the youth will laugh, and never see
How such a foolish thing… could ever be:

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

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Intro 4: If Only

Posted by David Emeron on

I expected five.  But for some unknown reason, four came before three, shortly after two.  And that told the whole story.  As well as five could. Reading them over, I sometimes see a fifth there, and sometimes I don’t.

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Sonnet III: Scions

Posted by David Emeron on

More tragic still are They Who, yet unborn,
May never be; or Who, once born were not
To ever see what prize Their Birthright bought.
Olympian, Their Blood aflame; yet mourn

They not, for know They not, how They were torn
From out Their Mothers’ Arms while still She fought,
Believing They, with Holy Blood, could naught
But thrive. They know Their Legacy as scorn;

Yet not why They, your legions, chafe to join.
‘Til you, upon Their Mothers’ Throne, decree
And point “This is a god; and this is not.”
Defining ugliness as beauty, point
And sneer “Art thou as beautiful as we?”
But fear to know the answer you have wrought.

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

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Intro 3: I Think I Now See:

Posted by David Emeron on

How will evil fall?
Shall it be ground underneath
Purely distilled truth?

Truth and good and right
And beauty cannot be stopped.
Many will have died–

For this, gladly die.
For truth is all that we have.
Truth, and nothing else.

All beauty and right
All goodness and all kindness
Come from perfect truth.

Distilled by reason
Distilled by our harmony
With the truth itself.

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Sonnet II: Exiles

Posted by David Emeron on

More tragic are those Gods who still remain.
Olympus fell; yet cast about Them thrice,
You’ve wrapped Them up in filthy sheets of ice;
And jeer that none will recognize Their Reign.

Though hidden in plain sight, so great remain
These Paragons of Beauty; Their Devices–
Their Sublime Creations–could entice,
Enlighten, and inspire, if Their Domain
Were not so hidden, frozen, and unclear.

Yet through your filth, such Gods might still be seen;
Though locked beneath a century’s demean.
If one unbidden eye should chance to turn,
A mortal soul might taintless beauty learn;
And this is what you meretricious fear.

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

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