Tag Archives: Lady

Sonnet: Emblazoned

Posted by David Emeron on

How radiant you were when you believed
That I would, in my innocence, remain
The same untouched, beloved child and gain
A balance none but you could have achieved.

How Beautiful you were when you were wrong.
What did you love in that reluctant child?
Perhaps you saw his brilliance or his wild
Emblazoned soul which you believed was strong.

I pitied you the moment when you knew
That there, before you, stood no tower of strength,
But just a fragile, though artistic child.
I pitied you the burning love which you
Incessantly embraced; and though at length,
A shroud to grace, you chose to live awhile.

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Sonnet: Perfection

Posted by David Emeron on

When hast thou seen, as meant for only thee,
Such eyes as widen gaily at thy sight?
And at thy voice a face that ever bright
Hath lit as though thy soul hath set it free.

And hast thou heard a voice so peacefully
Conformed, as though it found a place to light
As warmly and as permanently might
A thing as claimed its perfect place so be?

Or hast thou not this wonder ever seen?
And hast thou not this perfect moment felt?
Nor felt thine own eyes widen, as for thee
Delighted by thine own, that face hath been?
Hast not thou love, as hath my love for mee?
Hast not thine heart within perfection dwelt?

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Intro: When I Write About Love

Posted by David Emeron on

I’d write about love
I could write all day and night
The words would pour out

But I think it would
because of my own true love
be all too easy

I think I could write
Thrice as I have written once
Time would almost stop

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Sonnet II: Rebirth

Posted by David Emeron on

Still, this fearsome sibylline wonder falls
Silent to her very parting lips.
Her soft, resilient splendour candid dips
Below her barren, naked, winter halls

The silent wind who lulls; a stolid wall–
As a river empty of passing ships
Creates for her a quiet, lulling crypt;
A place of fitful reverie that all

Might pass unheeded. Still it signifies
Her needed rest; her ever-present pain;
A tribute to her elemental dance,
Whose song remains in echoing reply.
Sing, my Goddess, sing thy great romance;
Thine awe inspired dance wast not in vain!

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

Sonnet I: Death

Posted by David Emeron on

Within the misted shrouds of Erin’s dark
And fertile land–so dark, the magic there–
The Lady courseth through the land and air
Where no man shall her baneful music hark.

Yet keens’ she still to heather and to lark;
Her soul, still toucheth, frighteningly fair
As dark, her opalescent, raven, hair.
But now, stand solemn cairns of stone who mark

The bed of earth where she hath lain to rest.
And dreameth, ominous, as given life,
Her gift of fearsome song, and of her man;
From death he craveth comfort of her breast.

Who feeleth still, where ere he drifts’; the land
He toucheth, dark, as with her spirit rife.

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