Tag Archives: God

The sonnets are coming! The sonnets are coming!!!

Posted by David Emeron on

I confess I have been a bit under the weather, however, this is not the only reason I am a bit late in posting.

I have discovered a few things about the nature of this kind of work:

First, I believe one objective was not entirely well thought out. Writing a sonnet every day, is something that can be accomplished in less than seven days. For that reason, I believe the weekend was created (perhaps by God?) In any case, working seven days a week is a recipe for ultimate disaster. I had the notion a few weeks ago, to write ahead, so that I could take the weekend–much like a normal working fellow, regardless of the freelance nature of my chosen profession.  Which, alas, must be (except for kisses) its own reward. Continue reading →

φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0

Posted by David Emeron on

The following is in response to this lovely account:

φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0.

(I have reposted it here as per my rule of “write a novel as a comment; then you should probably republish it yourself also!”)

I love this story, sir. Your writing is very clear and beautiful.

By way of full disclosure, I should admit to you that I am an atheist–but… I am not “that” kind of atheist. In fact, one of my best friends has charitably described me as a “full Gospel atheist.” (as has Dear Mrs. Emeron–who most definitely is a woman of deep and abiding faith) He further, and perhaps with even more Christian Charity, draws the distinction between an atheist and an anti-theist. Even further, he insists that most atheists, so-called, are firmly of this second category–in this, he may be correct, I am not sure, for I am hardly a man of the world. Even more further, furtherer… he insists that this anti-theism is a religion in and of itself; in this I believe he is dead on.

Whether or not there is a God would not change the clear fact that we are “wired,” so to speak, for faith. (there is ever-growing scientific evidence for that) And it is my contention, and has been my observation, that when that “hole,” for want of a better term, in our hearts, or minds, if you will, is not filled with that for which it is designed to be filled, all manner of insanity will often ensue. People in such a condition end up believing in all sorts of nonsense–not the least of which is responsible for much human suffering–such as in the former eastern block, to give a ready example.

I therefore often caution people like me–as well as cautioning myself–to take great care regarding any unprovable worldly beliefs into which they may unwittingly fall. Belief is meant for God, not economic or political theories or unrepeatable scientific events.

Therefore, I am happy to pray with and for my Christian friends. I am happy–very thankful–if and when they pray for me. Saying grace at each and every meal helps me to see my fortune for what it is. And of course, He and His Son figure greatly in my published work for any number of reasons, not the least of which is that… well… how can 4000 years of liturgical tradition not colour, in fact completely fill in, all aspects in the whole of our culture–if not all of creation.

I was once a man of deeply held faith. I miss it. And truth be told, I dearly hope I am wrong and my Christian friends are right. I mean this with complete sincerity, and with all the humility I can muster, which I hope I have here conveyed.

Your writing, and your faith, are quite beautiful. Please do keep it up; and, if you have time, please do keep in touch.

via φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0.

No doubt, none of the following are related articles:

By My Sweet Love’s Request:

Posted by David Emeron on

What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark’d to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’

Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Sonnet: Favourites

Posted by David Emeron on

I set myself this task and then I’m free
To fly abroad to anywhere I choose;
With confidence, assisting in my prime
Companions’ search with nothing I might lose.

They might or mightn’t choose to let me be;
Though never doth their circumstance confuse
My only wish as yearns to take this time,
That this, a burden is, to disabuse.

And clearly, doth my love, to this degree,
Encompass all their lives, and to suffuse
Complex, with all its mystery, this crime
With eager resolution. Know I whose

Bleak life shall see enrichment that ensues?
‘Tis mine, so lifted, by this double muse.

Permalink

The Viking Situation:

Posted by David Emeron on

Herein I attempt to link all the relevant posts wherever they may be:

  1. First: the location of the original exchange:  February 7th, 2013 at 4:03 am
  2. Next, the whole enchilada:  My first…
  3. Next, the introduction which you (kanzensakura) stumbled upon:  Where is Waldo?
  4. And the sonnet I wrote inspired by the whole exchange:  Sonnet:
  5. Finally, a note about the piece–titled referent to my research on the subject:   FYI

Now, after and, I think during the hole affair, there were even some very peculiar emails exchanged.  They seemed to appear in great heaps.  Those, however, I did not save, and had I saved them, I would not publish them here for ethical reasons–even if I chose to redact the identity of the author of these.

Related articles (only the first two are actually related, heh)

Sonnet: The Third Law

Posted by David Emeron on

When breaks the dawn again affirming day,
This iridescent treasure, doth the sun,
Come supplely spreading visions, doth the one
Who made it known in every spreading ray;

When, just as day began, its noble way
Can never be impeded. Neither shun,
That life itself hath once again begun;
That never will its paradox delay.

The measure of a a man shall always be
His motion, or determinicity;
His ever ready willingness, to shine
As will he, ever happiness to find.
For such is life, as such is ever light,
That finds its final triumph in the night.