Category Archives: Sonnets

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

Sonnet: Shrug

Posted by David Emeron on

If Atlas’ Eyes were burning from our stain
Of  festering foul collectivization;
Shrieking of our dehumanization,
Bloody streamt His Ears with piercing pain;

His Arms, and Knees, and Shoulders, bled with strain
With the weight of our dying population;
Retching! from the stench of our starvation;
Weakening Resolve! at our disdain

For men who build; who might, His Burden, ease.
So, would ye dare to task Him; “Hold Thou, Muse!
One moment more, ’til we depose these smug,

“Self-righteous beasts!  No more! shall we appease
Esurience’s philanthropic ruse!”?
Or fear our thousand-years, and bid Him “Shrug!”?

Sonnet: Thieves

Posted by David Emeron on

Through turns and twists, an endless beat, we ran;
I’d spurn the mists, descend to meet with thee.
We’d turn a bend upon a stone, and we
Would earn an end, and on our own, began.

But for a while–and never knowing when–
Once more to smile, then time to go, it was.
Through turns, we twist, an endless beat, and us
Returned, we list, pretend, and meet again.

You’d wrest some rest from lies and flight, and stole
From me some paradise, not quite forlorn.
I took, from you, a measure of that sworn
A garden, too. You stole no treasure, whole;
But gave us shrift, though magical and brief.
Forgiveness gifts me gratitude, my thief!

Sonnet: Good Intentions

Posted by David Emeron on

The face, within the mirror, shan’t display
The visage of a monster? Nay; but, who
Might set out to discover what is true;
Not planning to destroy; nor ever stray

From good. His mild manner could allay,
And ever would his good intent undo,
Near any fear or doubt he’d not renew
His Godly pledge; and never disobey.

He,  to the mirror, says: “I shan’t forget
That I, this day, shall take this world, unclean,
And, of it, make a better place.”  Foretell
Ye; face with horror; watch his silhouette
Perform those actions sure to bring, unseen,
Into reality, the road to Hell.

Sonnet: My Friend

Posted by David Emeron on

When hope’s last touch had, ever weary, left;
And never, solace opened up her arms;
Sweet dreams pervading comfort had been reft;
And fertile life had quitted of her charms.

Life, seeming ended, ever lingered on;
And pity choked her ever-ringing word.
It seemed as though I were a passing pawn
Unheeding of all joy and never heard.

When panic reared his dreaded mask, I had
To desperately seek to task this ache.
Instead, you offered friendship. (I was glad
To take whatever kindness I could take.)

Though first, it seemed your offering was small,
What magic, that you gave a gift at all!

  • One more for Jena:
    Though never would a hundred
    Ever be enough.

Sonnet VII: Lucky

Posted by David Emeron on

It’s true, I always get what I desire,
But most of my desires rest in you.
Such boyish dreams, but definitely knew
What would, in all complexity, transpire;

I knew the field, I knew the world entire;
And this, that every wish of mine came true.
I saw our lives as they began anew,
And understood what life would then require.

That both of us, so perfectly sincere;
So very much as when we first began;
And now, as once we did, we would declare;
As strong as ever once, and as severe;
And all our long tomorrows, better than
Our yesterdays; and all beyond compare.

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

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Sonnet VI: Nurtured Nature

Posted by David Emeron on

I lay in thought, while others raced ahead.
Until I understood what friendship was.
I chose to look, while others leapt  instead,
And learned what loving is, and what it does.

I searched inside, while many never could,
To troll the depths and nature of desire,
Though scorned, I searched until I understood
The metal that would fealty require.

I learned; and kept  my friendship, burning love,
And deep desire, gilt like royalty;
For now, I knew the worth and nature of
Such strong emotions wrapped in loyalty:

So nurtured, close together, as they grew,
Until the day I gave them all to you.

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

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Sonnet V: Bad Times

Posted by David Emeron on

Love, have I hurt you, yet you love me still;
When I am bitter; still you understand;
You knew I was alone, and took my hand;
And knew I loved you as I always will.

Love me, as I love you, though you’ve hurt me;
So fine you are, how could I but forgive;
The girl whose magic taught a boy to live;
The woman who would teach a man to see.

We never let our circumstance prevail;
And ever after felt our bold belief;
What power, this, may triumph over grief;
And leaves but little meaningless travail.

Not fire for strength, to grist the mill, nor more
To climb–No hill–but bad times to ignore.

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

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