Category Archives: Sonnets

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

Sonnet I: The Beat of the Drum

Posted by David Emeron on

I’ll answer every call, Though I know I
Might die quickly; yet answer will I still.
While knowing I could fall, and although I
Might be sickly; yet answer them I will.

Even if I am alone, I’ll answer
With conviction; nor even hesitate.
‘Til our tyrants’ overthrown, no plans or
Dereliction, will keep me from their gate.

If we are in chains, and none are free, for
Life is empty, I’ll even fight my kin.
Doubtless, ’til remains, upon the sea or
Land, of them, we have scattered to the wind.

Free, is this, my land; joined, but not by chains;
‘Til no man can stand; ’til no man remains.

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

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Sonnet: Perfection

Posted by David Emeron on

When hast thou seen, as meant for only thee,
Such eyes as widen gaily at thy sight?
And at thy voice a face that ever bright
Hath lit as though thy soul hath set it free.

And hast thou heard a voice so peacefully
Conformed, as though it found a place to light
As warmly and as permanently might
A thing as claimed its perfect place so be?

Or hast thou not this wonder ever seen?
And hast thou not this perfect moment felt?
Nor felt thine own eyes widen, as for thee
Delighted by thine own, that face hath been?
Hast not thou love, as hath my love for mee?
Hast not thine heart within perfection dwelt?

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Sonnet: The Evolution Of…

Posted by David Emeron on

Things in life evolve. I, now uncaught on
Detail, resolve that haiku, when planned more
Strictly, will not break a single thought on
Separate lines. On the other hand, for

Sonnets, great shrines more strict, more pursuing
Sound; the stricture of both could recombine
With pressure when mixed together. Doing
Round numbers of haiku, would misalign

Within a sonnet. It makes me sigh, too;
For, on my honour, I’d cry if that myth
Were true. Instead, there must be eight haiku
To see it through; and then I combat with

Four pale sounds. And its sextet, for a
Tail, sports “etcetera, etcetera.”

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Sonnet IV: Angelic

Posted by David Emeron on

So like an angel dost thou, by me, sleep;
So peaceful dost thou dream and give me dreams;
So like a child do I sleep.  It seems
I dream anew thy gifted dreams, and keep

Mine own in peace, and never do I weep;
For I am safe, as safety thine redeems;
For I, as thou, am safe from all extremes;
For I may rest, as thou–may rest as deep.

An I awake, when deepest sleep is done,
Shall all thy peace remain within; and yet
Such peace, as I describe, cannot be won,
Without the price of love, I shan’t forget;
And when our dreams, as once again are spun
No pleasure as we dream shall go unmet.

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

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Sonnet III: Where I Rest

Posted by David Emeron on

So quiet thou beside me; so austere
Dost thou confide thee, silently to sleep.
Angelic thou, delightful; though as clear
Dost thou alight believe thou safe to keep…

Thee well protected, do I; and so sweet
Thy dreaming true; mine angel wouldst appear.
And though thou art about me; so discrete
And so devoutly, shall I hold thee near…

And dearly do I wrap thee, my surround
I would enrapt, be to mine own replete.
Delight at once to hold thee and abound
That once untold, rejoice for thee complete…

And wound about thee tightly; and so deep,
Profound, and knightly… love thee; yet I weep….

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

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Sonnet II: Sleep and Death

Posted by David Emeron on

And yet, thou, quiet at my side, asleep
Hast thus me graced.  Thine own sweet breath,
Thy fairest face so still, but not as death,
As once I thought the only link to keep

Us ever joined would be.   So dark, so deep
Would be our misery; our fate, beneath
A cruel, unblinking sky, would us bequeath,
Or God should grace us, but to weep;

For dreams forsaken, squandered; and to those
From which we shrank, unbidden, with resolve,
With fear, or anger; yet our lives revolve
Around the one, and only one, we chose.

Though only death was certain, dearest wife,
‘Tis better still that it began with life.

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

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Sonnet I: No More

Posted by David Emeron on

No touch, no sleep, no rest, no love like mine
For thee, shall ere console me in my place
Of rest.  No more shall any weight of thine
My breast console.  No more, thy fairest face,

Within my whole creation be contained.
No more shall I awaken, feel my heart
And thine, and should not feel that there be twain.
Not rhythm, nor our beings, be made to part.

No more shall flesh be moved nor move mine own
By neither wish, nor thought, nor even touch,
To such a fervent height as we have known–
As only I and thou have felt this much.

Must I, in perpetuity, endure
No more, no more, no more, no more… no more….

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

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