Tag Archives: Internal Rhyme

Sonnet I: Not Alone

Posted by David Emeron on

I sleep and then I dream and then I wake,
And live and work and play from sleep to sleep.
And sleep again and dream, and wake, and keep
My hand, to pen, and psalm, and song; and slake

This lust I feel when, weak or strong, I make
Them manifest; I sow, and press, and reap;
And joyously, my vintage test; I weep
And laugh as, for one day, I quell this ache;

And thrill to share each cup with those I love,
And even those I may; though not in hope
That I might ever sway, or help them cope;
But merely seek them out; and deem, above
All else, they might not doubt that there was one
Who felt as they, when sleep and dream was done.

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

Sonnet IV: Liquid Sorrow

Posted by David Emeron on

Too well, he knew; did Baudelaire, my twin
Of spirit, forebear of my soul; and knew,
As only he, my dearest poet, grew
To know; this drink was fine, as knew he sin.

So I thereof  proclaim to thee, who’s been
My sweetest love, as my devoted, who
For all thy sorrow; as my servant, do
Afore the morrow; as my slave:  Begin;

Goe; bring thou me that nectar of my soul,
That finest thing of sweetest Xerex grape,
And wilt thou see, I shall become returned
As he, who thou admirest, the whole
Of me, thy bliss desirest, as burned
Thine heart; and nary, snared as this, escape.

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

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Sonnet V: 1914

Posted by David Emeron on

See there, what are those pestilent that smother
In the muck? And there, I see, ignored
Within the mire, more are stuck; and Lord!
Behold, one bunches up to bid another

Well! Though unobtrusively, its brother
It disdains with such a tell.  With bored
Enthusiasm, one will slither toward
A wretched thing as if to give the other

An award. But lo! What it intends!
Now can it actually be, to grant
The other honours and a meaningless
Degree? How sweet, if my corrupted friends
Would slyly acquiesce, to grant me scanty
Honours with an automatic yes.

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

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