Tag Archives: Iambic Pentameter

Sonnet: Dust

Posted by David Emeron on

When all my time on God’s green earth is done,
This unrelenting march shall make me whole.
For dust is but the only worthy goal
For which all mortal men may strive as one.

What Death, what vast poetic end may come
To Thy reluctant servant? Death from gold?
Or from a love as fervent and as old
As Death from flesh, from opium, or rum?

O God Almighty give me pristine dust
That pray, I may obtain my perfect form.
Thy worn, reluctant, sword desires to rust,
And thence return to nature safe and warm.

And though I know that this can never be;
I dream a mortal’s immortality.

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Sonnet: Happy

Posted by David Emeron on

Newborn, such loneliness should here remain
A silent secret not by choice revealed.
In pride, such bitter pain could be concealed
To hide the habit dark of the insane.

I now would choose to force such better days–
In forcing such, enforce a practice old
Of being happy; so to be consoled
By doubting not the wisdom of my ways.

In life, I pave the road of happiness
To happiness; I cover stones of grief
To see all anguished light through sombred smoke.
And so I go, and smile as I bless
The heart, as I would bless its bitter thief–
An next I die, on too much joy would choke.

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Intro: Thief

Posted by David Emeron on

More spring than winter
Because it is next of love,
More than first of year.

Every day takes me
In, and out, of everything.
I never doubt it.

And brings a lot more
Than it takes away from me.
It leaves me with love.

Except at the last.
One day, it will either give–
Or take everything.

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