Tag Archives: Literature

Sonnet VI: If Only Knewest Thou

Posted by David Emeron on

If thou aboundest not with glory, seek
Thou ever this; for if thy world is rife
With glory’s joy, shalt thou abound to speak;
And shalt abound with glory in thy life.

So joyous wouldst thou ever, if thy place
Should, once, thy glory sing; although oblique,
And ne’er regard thy lack of fame, disgrace,
As such; though  fame and glory are unique.

Devoid of one another, both exist.
Though righteous one, the former may debase,
Impossible, unbidden, to resist.
So seek must thou this blessing, to embrace

That strife will fail to find thee in its midst–
The knife that in thy glory, yearns to twist.

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 IV: Wut…

Posted by David Emeron on

When Giving’s chosen gift is Anger’s shout;
To Nothings’s take, you feel to Giving’s out;
Yet joying now, as when you Wish’s bring;
Then Whening’s company you’ve but to sing.

When Nexting’s Subtletly’s Regarding’s speak;
When onceing Knowingly’s regards thy shout;
When Simple’s gifted thee Regarding’s sing;
Then Nothing’s wish is merely Granted’s doubt.

I sang to Weak’s regard, of Strength’s remain;
And Knowing’s doubt for Knowingly’s disdain;
I doubted Granted’s wish for Nothing’s weak;
And shout this truth away to Loveing’s spring.

I’d Rather’s Song’s Regarding’s Empty’s hall;
Than, Taking’s song to Full’s no time at all.

  • To myself, of course,
    but also…
    to the Pirate.

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

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Sonnet III: Take Thy Care

Posted by David Emeron on

Above all, tend thy body, treat not cavalier
The vessel of thy mind and soul; for where
Thy foolishness, ephemera revere,
So ever, doth for each, the other care.

What providence might I impart of this!?
What bounty bring, avoiding such despair.
If not such caution, would I be remiss?
This wisdom, give I thee, beyond compare.

I yearn to tell the ease thou shouldst have won;
Or how simplicity wouldst bring thee bliss;
And wish thy time for these could be outdone–
Not lateness now these choosings reminisce.

Though ne’er may be these hands of time outrun;
So could thine ease much sooner have begun.

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

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Sonnet II: The Most Important Thing

Posted by David Emeron on

That art thou most of consequence to me–
Thy tender age doth all to me pertain–
What may I tell, that wouldst thou not foresee;
And warn of that from which thou shouldst abstain?

Fear not, shouldst thou, pursuit of all thine aims;
For rest shalt thou enough to persevere.
Nor fear the end of that which life proclaims;
For shalt thou cease, one day, to live in fear.

And never, thy demeanour, show as meek;
For this thine own frustration will prolong.
Nor fail to strive, believing thou art weak;
For shall, one day, travail make thee strong.

And know, thou shouldst, one truth, all else above:
With all thy strength, pursue thy dearest love.

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

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Sonnet I: Thou Wilt

Posted by David Emeron on

Wilt thou again experience this vain,
Delectable, self-referential ache–
This self-indulgence once again allow?
To thine shalt thou thy paradox awake

From sleep when hast thou found and felt this pain?
What timely melody, or importune,
Might interruption beg thee disavow?
But wake! Shout thy day! Though thy Words impugn

Themselves when once They leave thy lips; profane
Shall They be made by whips thou canst not quell;
The base shall scourge profane, an They endow
Them with thy Pearls, when swine, as swine, retell.

Though long remains the day thy Words to fade,
Sleep now, brief vigilance, not yet unmade.

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

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