Tag Archives: Italian Sonnet

Sonnet II: His Passion

Posted by David Emeron on

I hear it in his song, as I perform;
With expectation, I anticipate
What challenge wrought that worthy hands conflate.
What fingers, nimble, delicate, and warm,

What mastery was he seeking to transform?
I hear him call, with each I recreate,
And call again with Phrygian passion.  Great,
I hear him call, as doth a raging storm.

I hear it in the sadness and the joy,
As in capriciousness, or wayward games;
I hear it gravely serious, then coy;
In every moment, hear how it proclaims.

The instant when the Andaluz appears,
I hear it, sweet as sin, across the years.

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

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Sonnet I: When He Fell

Posted by David Emeron on

Might he have fallen when he saw her face,
If so enchanting was her smile–too young
Must she have been–and tyrian among
Oviedo’s great; or when she danced, so graceful

Were her palmas and her whirling lace,
She gave him tantalizing baile–flung
Careening adoration; when she sung,
As Andalusian cantos did embrace

Regarding not her reach; or did the sound,
Laughing delicate from out a learner’s
Able hand–nimble, did her fingers bound,
Tripping lightly over octaves–earn her

Triumph; with–crossing leagues of royal blue–
Iokean lips, though never history knew?

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

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Sonnet V: The Wraith

Posted by David Emeron on

Trust thou in she who would thy spirit lift;
For holdeth she thy course as straight and right,
Whose destinations found, with thee, delight–
This Hallowed ground from which thou shalt not drift.

Trust thou in she who is thy greatest gift;
For thee, thy darkened course would keep alight;
Whose only longing keepeth both from night;
And help thee right such wrongs when waters shift.

Thou canst not man thy tiller and thy spar;
Nor keep the watch and also plot thy course;
Nor man the pumps below and trim thy sail.
For shalt thou, on thy circle, travel far–
Much farther than alone wilt thou, perforce–
Alone, couldst not rejoice thou to prevail.

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

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Sonnet: This

Posted by David Emeron on

Withal such love within our worlds may be:
So must it live within our mind’s frontier?
Or might it dwell within our heart–sincere
Within our soul–wherein we may not see?

Can this I feel, though cannot touch in thee?
May such as this, made manifest, appear?
Or when such love perceivest thou, revere?
Dost this thou feel, though canst not touch in mee?

Yet of this unseen thing are we aware,
As much we would this phantom to possess;
For all its joys impart or its despair
Doth bring to us when once this thing profess.
So dangerous a thing should we declare,
That oft might curse, as well as it might bless.

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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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Sonnet: Perhaps

Posted by David Emeron on

There was a time when you and I were just
As now, but happy still. So long withdrawn
And faded with our will, the time has gone.
It’s passed us altogether now; the best

Of love and hate has gone, yet can be pressed
In pages past, as likeness penned or drawn.
If we begin a love again thereon
We might continue still, but would attest

A pain as well, which sadly we have known,
That delves within, and minds and hearts perceive
Inside our wiser selves. Perhaps, above
All else, it would be best to leave alone…
Perhaps it would be best for us to leave…
For us to leave alone our smiling love….

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