Tag Archives: Fixed Verse Forms

Sonnet III: Step after Step

Posted by David Emeron on

First, second, third, and fourth, I walk alone
With measured footsteps, each one as the last;
My future is as hopeless as the past;
These plodding steps, the only things I own.

I face my work, I wake, I sleep, I hone
My pace to take more measured steps. Not fast
Nor slow, I have become adept at last
At going nowhere. See how I have grown

Such roots, and with such care, which but permit
The taking of a single measured step
And then another–fancy how they fit
My feet. This pace would scarcely ever let
Me eat, except that I might starve to death
And that would end the measure of my breath.

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

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Sonnet VI: Her Call

Posted by David Emeron on

I hear the rain; she calleth as she did
So many years ago. But now I can
Not heed this pain. She claimed me as her man;
No longer is it so. Thus am I hid

From she, whom hath she been, my dearest love.
Thou canst but ask: But why dost thou forsake
This holy path of love which thou bespake
To be the flask who’s nectars rank above

All fruit; wherethrough, all Gods and men, subsist.
But to be true, I sometimes answer her;
Though not so loudly she should know exists
The man she proudly loved, because he were
The shell of what he was, so shan’t she know
The depths, so shut, a failing love may go…

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

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Sonnet V: Coffeebreak

Posted by David Emeron on

The G-drive folded space to ninety gees.
The polariser hummed its loud dissent.
Yet not one drop of coffee did I spill;
Or notice this miraculous event.

I never knew what kind of expertise
Kept “Down” remaining steady toward the floor;
I merely docked my cup and dialled “Fill,”
Relaxed, and settled down to drink some more.

I never had a moment of unease;
The J-drive took us supra-light, no doubt;
I only heard the Newman engine shrill,
Until the power levels evened out.

But one false move by someone, while I yawn,
And half a microsecond, I’d be gone.

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

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Sonnet IV: I Know

Posted by David Emeron on

My love will come to me from far away
So every minute closer to this day
Will pass me like an hour or a year
But God I count them down from tear to tear

And write my silly words I may not show
Where driven by my faithful car I go
And faster than the wind to him we skim
But God I wish that I could write like him

If you could see the lovely things he writes
Excites and then ignites and then delights
And if you read them then your tears would fall
But God I really get to read them all

I know it as I skim the cytochrome
He came across the stars to bring me home

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

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Sonnet III: Wait

Posted by David Emeron on

My Love, I know–Whither I may goe–
That wouldst thou ever shine to mee, my guide;
My Sweet, I knew–through the stars I flew–
Though travel worn, thou pull’st me to thy side.

Past Heaven, whirl–O, my darling girl–
Whilst wait thou ever patiently for mee;
So long away–nearer by the day–
Impatient, do I count my nights to thee.

An thou art late–gratefully I wait–
And drink this sweet Xerex to soothe my fear;
Yet Love, I thrill–but, for thee, be still–
For quiet shall we cry to quell each year;

For this return–ever did I yearn–
An never leave thy side again, my dear.

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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