of four or even five
the Rhymes trip, unbidden, along they go
I gave them no assistance
Tag Archives: Loneliness
Sonnet: My Friend
When hope’s last touch had, ever weary, left;
And never, solace opened up her arms;
Sweet dreams pervading comfort had been reft;
And fertile life had quitted of her charms.
Life, seeming ended, ever lingered on;
And pity choked her ever-ringing word.
It seemed as though I were a passing pawn
Unheeding of all joy and never heard.
When panic reared his dreaded mask, I had
To desperately seek to task this ache.
Instead, you offered friendship. (I was glad
To take whatever kindness I could take.)
Though first, it seemed your offering was small,
What magic, that you gave a gift at all!
- One more for Jena:
Though never would a hundred
Ever be enough.
Intro: So Happy
so nice when I had
found you, seeming well, and even smiling
I was very happy then
Sonnet VII: Lucky
It’s true, I always get what I desire,
But most of my desires rest in you.
Such boyish dreams, but definitely knew
What would, in all complexity, transpire;
I knew the field, I knew the world entire;
And this, that every wish of mine came true.
I saw our lives as they began anew,
And understood what life would then require.
That both of us, so perfectly sincere;
So very much as when we first began;
And now, as once we did, we would declare;
As strong as ever once, and as severe;
And all our long tomorrows, better than
Our yesterdays; and all beyond compare.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 7: Predestination
Predestination
There is really no such thing
It is preordained
Sonnet V: Bad Times
Love, have I hurt you, yet you love me still;
When I am bitter; still you understand;
You knew I was alone, and took my hand;
And knew I loved you as I always will.
Love me, as I love you, though you’ve hurt me;
So fine you are, how could I but forgive;
The girl whose magic taught a boy to live;
The woman who would teach a man to see.
We never let our circumstance prevail;
And ever after felt our bold belief;
What power, this, may triumph over grief;
And leaves but little meaningless travail.
Not fire for strength, to grist the mill, nor more
To climb–No hill–but bad times to ignore.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 5: Change
Something from time long passed
While other matters are being sorted out.
Here are some old thoughts.
David Emeron: Sonnets 