Tag Archives: Life

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 IV: Angelic

Posted by David Emeron on

So like an angel dost thou, by me, sleep;
So peaceful dost thou dream and give me dreams;
So like a child do I sleep.  It seems
I dream anew thy gifted dreams, and keep

Mine own in peace, and never do I weep;
For I am safe, as safety thine redeems;
For I, as thou, am safe from all extremes;
For I may rest, as thou–may rest as deep.

An I awake, when deepest sleep is done,
Shall all thy peace remain within; and yet
Such peace, as I describe, cannot be won,
Without the price of love, I shan’t forget;
And when our dreams, as once again are spun
No pleasure as we dream shall go unmet.

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

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Sonnet VII: Lotus

Posted by David Emeron on

I lid mine eyes, yet not in sleep, but wake;
Not hid to prize the darkness, nor to see;
Nor magnify some other sense; nor be
Bereft of beauty; nor once more forsake

The heft of duty, as a way to break
The thrall of such cacophonous debris.
Nor shall so thin a veil set me free
From youthful ties, nor hail its mistake,

Nor truth, nor lies, but merely grant repose;
Which waking purpose, clearly, I’m inclined
To take, whenever I may know such throws
Of agony or bliss. And when I find
Such irony as this, I then expose
Myself, to all the wealth, in all my mind.

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

Sonnet III: A call

Posted by David Emeron on

No albatross is this around my neck,
This talisman to set my soul afire,
A host of angels, heavenly; a choir
Who, singing endless blessings, at my beck

And call, continue to adorn, bedeck,
Enthral, enslave the muses they acquire.
And, subject to my will, they must inspire
My pen to greater heights; until no speck

Of life remains within my body; or
My soul is, from its heart still beating, ripped;
Or locked in shadow, knowing only breath.
For, nothing less will end the oath I swore;
Until I have, this mortal coil slipped;
Or when the shadow takes me unto death.

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