Tag Archives: Friendship

Sonnet VI: | David Emeron: Sonnets

Posted by David Emeron on

Of late, I thought to revisit this one which is so framed, now more, in the tradition of such things.  Very “chaffy” of me to mix mythologies as do I here:

In aire dost, poise thou in His image, fly
Perfection! bronzed against Hyperion’s blaze;
Exalted! at thy nadir by His rays;
With mastery! dost thou hold thy piece of sky.

In aire, for thee, hath stoppt all time; on high,
At perfect flexion, as His Son displayed:
Retract, and tense, ’til once thou deign obey
His gravity, that deign thou not defy.

Down! by His unseen force, to Earth art thrown;
Descend thou! as I gasp–thy devotee.
Thou! slicing air! perfection still outshone!
And twist! and roll! and turn! to all degree!
As fly thou through devoted hands alone
With thee, who hast so Godly kist the sea.

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Sonnet: Diary

Posted by David Emeron on

Can I know or see a life completely
Through a man’s written word? Not unduly;
Suppose, they have been blurred, and not truly
Intended for me. Nor, though discreetly,

Read of she, her diary, so sweetly
Not a thread of insight nor pathos, nor
A fresh new idea, even hated. More
Of which I name, created? Completely?

Even understand it partly? No I
Think not. Knows my heart Miller by reading
The Tropic he wrought, or Baudelaire from
His Fleurs du Mal? We know, nor care not, why;
And whereupon shall man’s words know heeding;
We merely learn what we, must needs, become?

Sonnet VIII: For Thy Rest

Posted by David Emeron on

I would now that I might have been thy bed.
So dark a night it was that wouldst thou sleep
And, weary, rest–a child in my keep–
Upon my breast thy fair and frightened head.

And calm, indeed, to sleep as I have said:
No want or need forgotten whilst thou weep’
To heal thy soul. A drink of comfort, deep,
Would make thee whole again, my child, instead

Of being broke; to smile for me again
When next thou woke‘, and look into mine eyes;
And I would see my Sister gazing up
To smile at me–a smile I would prize
Above all pleasure. For, devoid of pain,
Would grace and measure ever fill her cup.

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

Intro 8: Thy Bed

Posted by David Emeron on

Would, I might have been
Your bed on so dark a night;
Dark that you would sleep.

Rest now weary child.
In my keep, upon my breast
Rest your frightened head.

Calm indeed, you’ll sleep,
No want or need forgotten
You’ll weep, as I said,

And your soul will heal.
Drink you, deep, of comfort, child
And again be whole

Instead, not broken.
When you wake and smile at me,
Look into my eyes,

Sister, I would see
You’d gaze up and smile at me
A smile I’d prize

Above all pleasure
In this, would grace and measure
Ever fill your cup.

Continue reading →

Sonnet I: What I Do

Posted by David Emeron on

But can it be that I my love shall see?
May I expect a miracle again?
Is finding, once again, my dearest friend,
My Sister-Love, a possibility?

Our struggle has been cruel irony
As such, do I suppose, will be our end;
But for a little while I shall pretend
That this, the preordained, will never be.

In fact, I will remain God’s loyal slave,
Indentured ever, hoping for reward.
So Elevated, now, above the Knave,
That I can plainly see where such is stored.

So sure am I of God’s Great Path for me,
I know that He forgives my enmity.

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

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