I’m afraid this is
About as scary a thing
As ever I write:
Tag Archives: Lady
Sonnet: Truth Unquantifiable
When life has given all Her many gifts;
Whenever can the measure of these things;
Those gifts alike to paupers and to kings;
The very blessings, all, that spirit lifts;
Be counted up among the many rifts
And twists, and turns; and bold accounting springs
Forth only optimistic numbers? Brings
The news in harmonies and umbers. Shifts
The essence of attention to the day
For which this great accounting brings its news;
And which a man, forgetting not to pray,
Will promise Her he never shall abuse,
In truth unquantifiable, the way
He finds himself inspired by Her muse.
Intro: Damn right!
I’ll never forget,
Because I live and breathe that
From whence these gifts come.
Sonnet II: His Passion
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:
Intro 2: Fairytale Couple
It May Not Be So
But then, from whence does it come?
Where, if not from this?
Sonnet I: When He Fell
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:
Intro 1: Quite A Challenge
If I have my way,
you’ll all know why
I wrote this.
And then,
you’ll also know why
I said it was
quite an intriguing challenge,
if you look closely.
David Emeron: Sonnets 