Tag Archives: Longing

Sonnet II: That which Dreams

Posted by David Emeron on

How a gentle rain, a soft rain shall drift
Upon my lonely night, and bring me rest
Like story-book music, beauty at its best,
It singeth songs so lovely and it lifts

My heart as I rejoice its subtle gifts.
Such wistful dreams of peace made manifest,
I lay my grateful head upon thy breast;
And sleep, at last, while on thy love, I drift.

I love thee as I love the touching rain
Which maketh us this soft, prismatic night;
I love thine happiness, I love thy pain
That I may ease with rain—and quiet light;
I love thee dearly as I would restrain
My tears which fall like gentle rain tonight.

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

Sonnet: No Faith

Posted by David Emeron on

Can now, I truly see the Holy Ghost?
Believing yet in nothing, not the Son,
And not the Father, nor the fallen one;
With only a desire to play as host

To a belief which, at its very most,
Do I admire to adopt–and shun
All else; for now, I see the truth, and run
To-ward a stark, inevitable, coast;

A coast whose beaches speak a Holy Truth;
Though that alone is not why I so care.
It is a great utility of youth;
Yet pains me that it cannot be a tool
Whose faith will serve me, if indeed ’tis there,
Unless a man accept it, as a rule.

Intro: Faith

Posted by David Emeron on

it’s funny
how faith
ebbs and flows in me

right now
it is at low tide

God does not exist
nor spirit
nor afterlife

nothing

the only thing
that seems to be
beyond myself
is my love for you,
and your love for me

and that lives
only in you
and in me

We will die
no one will ever know
how irreplaceable it was

it will just be gone.

Sonnet XII: (lyrical couplets)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn; and start
To quicken at the moment first I see–
And when I hear a voice and know ’tis thee.

Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
And skip when touch my cheek to quell my fear;
To pound its expectation of thy touch,
Doth fierce thou see my body shake as much;

Withheld how at its quiet pace I’d be
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as their beat would nary stray;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away.

If swore I, ne’er describe my heart to thee,
Then would it’s beating stopped forever be?

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

Part XII: (lyrical couplets)

Posted by David Emeron on

This, the most familiar form of rhyme
Is used in song and verse time after time

This the sixth edition came about
The gateway to familiarise throughout
Continue reading →

Sonnet XI: (Shakespearean blankverse)

Posted by David Emeron on

If swore I, ne’er  describe to thee my heart:
How desperately doth it yearn for thee;
To quicken at a very sight of thee,
And every instant when I hear thy voice;

Withheld I, how’t doth race when com’st thou near:
How might it skip when dost thou touch my cheek;
To pound its expectation of thy touch;
That mayst, thou see, so fierce,  my body shake;

Kept secret I, its quiet morning pace:
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony,
My wonder as they nary would diverge;
Thence, locked my parchment, quill, and ink, away;

If swore I, ne’er describe to thee my heart;
Would thence unheard,  its beat forev’r be still?

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