Tag Archives: Etudes

Sonnet XIV: The Rise

Posted by David Emeron on

And presently, they elevate, perfect
Our quiet and declining count, we save
Each existential blossom and reflect
Upon the primacy of each. Which gave
Our speech determination, therefore brave.

Perhaps, rededicated selves might lift
Anon our wishes to our great affect
For aspiration’s sake, aspired swift;

Or aspiration’s truth would ring
As true, and flower our inspired gift.
But whatsoever fearlessness might bring,

Could elevate our transcendental all.
And every waking moment that we sing,
Depreciates, abates against the fall.

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

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Sonnet XIII: Falling

Posted by David Emeron on

Extraordinary blooms, ye mustn’t fall,
Although bereft of you I plaintive sing;
Complete, your gifted dedication all–

For nothing–your renunciation; bring…
To me, my restlessness, one restful gift,
Another consequential tear, one ring…

Of truthful blossoming, cascading swift,
Of falling and of blowing, gently brave;
Traversing mountains, even oceans, lift–

Beyond torrential, gentle blossoms gave;
Beyond such starfields, drop and bloom perfect;
Away… beyond temporal counting, save…
Our loneliness, do each to us affect;
As petal-drops, alone, our days reflect.

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

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Sonnet XII: Visions

Posted by David Emeron on

…No mere illusion could be ever still
But substance make it soar when once begin
Its dances and its songs as once were thine;
Transfixing, once, existence all therein
That once revolved about my wish to kill,

And to protect; and otherwise confine
Such evil as would do thee harm, or sin
Against thee in this fragile world of mine–
To fight ’til all were vanquished by my will.

Thy safety then to mine own safely bound,
No more such evil thee should ever bind–
So not a moment more thy pleasure blind.
Ne’er once thy dance, nor song, nor sweetest sound,
When all is well, might fail to ever thrill.

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

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Sonnet XI: Here and Now

Posted by David Emeron on

Here, have I come: to know thy voice, to thrill
At every timbre, to rejoice my sin,
The very amber of my choice.  For mine
Is all perfection, comfort, and goodwill.

And, have I known: to rest, to sleep.  Therein
Shall I in thee my comfort keep.  Confine
Should I to me thy tears to weep.  Begin,
Do I to quell the fears that each of thine
Own quited years might never hope to kill.

Now, am I come: to decimate thy blind
Illusion.  And, have I known: all thy sound
And furied Confusion.  Here, do I bind
All hope no faith nor charity hath bound.
Celerity is stopped–and rested.  Still…

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

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Sonnet X: Fell

Posted by David Emeron on

Fell to Love, fell to beauty, fell to lore,
Fell to dance, fell to music; fell to whose
Enthral, embrace, encapsulating muse
Who gave, who held, who sheltered me, who swore
This oath to any failing excuse.

And fast was sealed, unbreakable before
A moment passed, this oath to me adore–
Adore, allow, and compromise refuse
To grant, to sanction; not in war, nor peace,
Nor gravity, nor passion, nor caprice;

In every moment, promised to hold true;
In every second, took me deep into
A distant land where none could me pursue–
So taken by a grasp that cannot cease.

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

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Sonnet IX: Trapped

Posted by David Emeron on

No choice for me to sanctity refuse
Nor hesitate to tenderness adore;
Too long had I such reticence before
My failing-fast reluctance to excuse.

No choice to make; regard the choiceless muse–
That love to which in helplessness I swore.
No choice to take, no helpless choice, the lore
Whose wonderment would grant me solace, whose

Enthral would thrall me with her soft caprice,
Whose warming shield would warn me then into
Whose fate and fatelessness I would pursue.

But now, to cease the hold its hold would cease,
And nary muse nor swear an oath to peace,
My heart will sing its praises to be true!

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

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Sonnet VIII: Hope

Posted by David Emeron on

For one, who sometimes wished or feared to die
Unknown; for one, who grieved or sought to leave
Alone; for one, who would not say goodbye;
Whose mercy then would mercilessly try;

For what shall mercy take ’til mercy’s gone
Awry; for what deceiving took to grieve
To cry; for whom, should hope be ‘stowed upon
Whose ardour then would ardent live anon;

And who, in ardour’s happiness had felled
His fate; and who, naive, could earn reprieve
As late; and who, in clarity was held
As sanctified as sanctity dispelled:

Who held enthral, and mercied to deceive;
Who grieved to call his folly or his fall.

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

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