Tag Archives: Health

Sonnet I | RL King:A Written World

Posted by David Emeron on

Does your world spin wild through black of night?
Do you crave my hold, my kiss, my embrace?
Do you ache in desire, my lips to trace?
Do you look and see, my flicker of light?
Do I touch your soul, does it burn, ignite?
Could you have loved this splinter of my grace?
Would you hold me…if tears streamed on my face?
Tell me you would not, else, what a sad plight.

For, I would love thee, ever and a day,
What fool threw away this one that I see?
Did they not see the strength of your fierce heart?
To feel your breath as it moves upon me,
Caress your soul with mine, ever there stay…
You are my passion…you, dear love, my art.

via Sonnet I | RL King:A Written World.

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Sonnet: His Birth

Posted by David Emeron on

I celebrate with all today His birth,
And pray throughout these hours with those I love.
Myself, as humbled giving thanks, I feel,
Although He floateth not, I fear, above.

And true, I more am thankful of my worth;
For know such warmth as loved ones for me pray,
And bid Him all our spirits, pray, to heal,
Especially upon this Holy day.

Ye wretched, leave us pray for peace on Earth,
And contemplate your mirror’s twisted view,
Then hope, and change, or enmity conceal;
Be thankful that my loved ones pray for you.

For though I yet believe no God to be,
So also do I not believe in ye.

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Sonnet II: (freeverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

If I did not describe my heart how it yearns for you
how it quickens at every sight of you every instant
when I first hear your voice if I did not write of how
it races when you come near that it has skipped

when you have touched me that it pounds with the
expectation of your touch every beat so hard that
it shakes my body enough for you to see if I chose
to keep the secret of its quiet rhythm in the morning

when I wake how long I have lain quietly amazed as
our hearts beat in perfect synchrony that I wondered
how many minutes would pass before their rhythms
diverged every word withheld as I lay down my pen and

lock it away with its barren white sheets if I swore
not to describe my heart would it stop beating forever?

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

Sonnet I: (the words themselves)

Posted by David Emeron on

if I did not describe my heart how it yearns for you how it quickens at every sight of you every instant when I first hear your voice if I did not write of how it races when you come near that it has skipped when you have touched me that it pounds with the expectation of your touch every beat so hard that it shakes my body enough for you to see if I chose to keep the secret of its quiet rhythm in the morning when I wake how long I have lain quietly amazed as our hearts beat in perfect synchrony that I wondered how many minutes would pass before their rhythms diverged every word withheld as I lay down my pen and lock it away with its barren white sheets if I swore not to describe my heart would it stop beating forever

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

Sonnet II:

Posted by David Emeron on

But shall thy youth’s proud beauty not yet wane,
Though fifty winters shall thy brow besiege;
Each furrow earned, a worthy harvest; gaining
Greater beauty each, for youth’s unease.

Thy treasure lieth deep in Wisdom’s care;
For all shall see, as bright as doth remain
Fair beauty’s lustful youth: Beyond compare,
Shall count thy beauty’s truth; and fond sustain

Those many or those few who might impute
Thee wisdom, beauty’s blood to thee compare;
Let thy succession, warm or aught, repute
Thee not, the better to be taught; for where

May please thy children wisdom to dilute;
Yet these, thy words, made wisdom beauty’s fruit.

This sonnet is part of a short, or
possibly at some point, very long
sequence; click here to read it all:

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: Busy

Posted by David Emeron on

Can I look, can I listen, can I speak?
Can I stop, can I walk, or can I run?
Can I fetch, can I put, or am I done?
Can I drop, can I gather, may I seek?

Will I lead, will I later, will I sneak?
Will I first, will I last, or will I shun?
Will I few, will I lots, or have I none?
Will I feed, will I wallow, am I bleak?

Must I find, must I forfeit, must I do?
Must I know, must I guess, or must I now?
Must I brave, must I cower, should I bow?
Must I glow, must I grimace, am I blue?

If I may, am I dower, did I stray?
Can I pray, for more hours, in the day?

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