Tag Archives: Dream

Sonnet I: It Comes

Posted by David Emeron on

If ever I could spare a minute’s time,
I might enjoy a moment of the day.
A place where I might be forgotten, pray,
That I might run from here, or even climb

A mountain far away. Not Reason, Rhyme
Nor Deities could sway, nor could one pay
The world’s unyielding, universal clay,
That time should not be stolen. Such a crime

Continues on, beholden to no man,
With cruel impunity–continues on
Its prurience, as only Satan can–
And gives the poet grist to mill upon:
To sow, and reap, and dream of sweet release,
And then to sleep, and dream of death, and peace.

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

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Sonnet V: Inscribed Elegy

Posted by David Emeron on

The gentle rain, as gentle notes, inscribe:
A mourning song for images withdrawn;
A pleasing elegy to moments gone;
Or passing fancies, never real. Describe

The rain, and gentle airs will drift to mind:
The dreaming sounds of feeling; river songs,
A never ending symphony, in throngs
Of sound, imbibing, then, of rivers winding

Endlessly about the morning light;
Entwining dewy havens of the heart;
And mountains of a mighty spirit’s height,
Transfixing grateful captives of its art.
How beautiful the rain and music are,
That take us into paradise so far.

  • To my friend Jena:
    So that you may remember
    How I love the rain.

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 I: Not Alone

Posted by David Emeron on

I sleep and then I dream and then I wake,
And live and work and play from sleep to sleep.
And sleep again and dream, and wake, and keep
My hand, to pen, and psalm, and song; and slake

This lust I feel when, weak or strong, I make
Them manifest; I sow, and press, and reap;
And joyously, my vintage test; I weep
And laugh as, for one day, I quell this ache;

And thrill to share each cup with those I love,
And even those I may; though not in hope
That I might ever sway, or help them cope;
But merely seek them out; and deem, above
All else, they might not doubt that there was one
Who felt as they, when sleep and dream was done.

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

Sonnet V: Crystal

Posted by David Emeron on

But here, my sweetest love, and now, I pray
That shouldst thou know, as sure as once thou knew,
That shouldst thou neither worry, nor construe
Of me, nor any kind of doubt, display,

That shan’t I, once I have returned, convey,
Though lost, as found, or never I withdrew
From out the safety of thine arms.   I do
Believe that thou shalt, ‘ever charmed this way,

Remain my fragrant, soul refreshing, wine,
Most perfect, thou, and  infinitely sweet;
And shalt thou be the crystal–and I think,
A vessel that, so finished and complete,
That Holiest of Holies,  made divine,
Thy beauty and thy grace–Wherewith I drink.

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

Sonnet I: To the Approaching Dawn

Posted by David Emeron on

I fear not that my words will never grace….
And yet I dread this fast approaching dawn;
I see the minutes and the hours pass;
For dawn is yet the only constant thing
That rips me so unkindly from my pace.

Though never is my reason thus forgone;
This Lighted Spectre haunts me–this Impasse–
This Waking Nightmare from beneath will spring.
Beneath the Earth this Pale Rider waits,
His Fiery Horses chafing; will have drawn

His Chariot’s Searing Livery–unsurpassed
In glory, any but Hyperion:
Shall stream His Burning Light; and gaining fast,
Will into Hypnos’ Waiting Arms, me cast.

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

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