Tag Archives: Art

Sonnet III: Tears and Tears

Posted by David Emeron on

At times, I cry… when remember I…
Such moments long ago, alone with thee,
When wouldst thou sing–weep, remembering–
Such times as when at first thou sang’st to mee.

And sweet thy song… delicate but strong…
That calmed such tears, as sweet thy notes would sing;
So quiet true–calming these anew–
Such tears as next to mee thy song might bring.

Thou knew’st not why… often would I cry…
Though lovingly wouldst soothe thou mee to sleep.
For when of thee–sadly did foresee–
Such lonely secrets once I sought to keep.

So cry to thee… fearing quietly…
That ripped I’d be, from thee away, and weep.

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

Permalink

Sonnet II: Long Foretold

Posted by David Emeron on

But once, I watched thee once, from far away,
In hopes, imagined once, to earn thy rest,
While daring not to dare this sweet display
Were all for mee–that dare I be so blest–
That bid thou might, and bid me soon, this day,
Thy song, to comfort bid, thou once professed.

To hour, and blesséd hour, to lay in sleep,
But soft, in soft congeniality;
To fade, this dolour fadeth by the hour;
And touch, so light thy touch, upon mee keep.
So round, thy lighted circle, ’round us be
Reborn, so safe reborn, within thy bower.

And would I hold thee safe, and would thee well;
As children, long ago, would long foretell.

  • I answer she,
    who hath for me
    this place forever kept.

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

Permalink

Sonnet II: His Passion

Posted by David Emeron on

I hear it in his song, as I perform;
With expectation, I anticipate
What challenge wrought that worthy hands conflate.
What fingers, nimble, delicate, and warm,

What mastery was he seeking to transform?
I hear him call, with each I recreate,
And call again with Phrygian passion.  Great,
I hear him call, as doth a raging storm.

I hear it in the sadness and the joy,
As in capriciousness, or wayward games;
I hear it gravely serious, then coy;
In every moment, hear how it proclaims.

The instant when the Andaluz appears,
I hear it, sweet as sin, across the years.

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

Permalink

Sonnet I: When He Fell

Posted by David Emeron on

Might he have fallen when he saw her face,
If so enchanting was her smile–too young
Must she have been–and tyrian among
Oviedo’s great; or when she danced, so graceful

Were her palmas and her whirling lace,
She gave him tantalizing baile–flung
Careening adoration; when she sung,
As Andalusian cantos did embrace

Regarding not her reach; or did the sound,
Laughing delicate from out a learner’s
Able hand–nimble, did her fingers bound,
Tripping lightly over octaves–earn her

Triumph; with–crossing leagues of royal blue–
Iokean lips, though never history knew?

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

Permalink

Sonnet IX: My Sweet Savant

Posted by David Emeron on

But rest thy racing mind, my sweet savant,
And know thine intellect may bring thee through
Thy fear and doubt, as any other want.
I would thou should but give this truth its due

Though oft wouldst thou believe this help untrue,
My dearest, my most charming, doubtful boy;
So long the list of thy solutions, drew
My mind, as easy thou wouldst reach for joy

And find it waits for thee. No other ploy
Couldst thou detect in me; for, as I were
Thy future, thou wouldst not my past destroy.
Take this I would thee know, and let it stir
Thy mind until occureth free of daunt;
And, if thou wouldst prefer: thy quickness flaunt!

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

Permalink