Sonnet III: Her Praise

Her heart, so prayeth she, be still, this dream,
Wherein such favour, she recalleth, find;
Such things so little are, as may surprise:
So often unexpected, his attire;

In candlelight, he doth angelic seem
To glow, as though with Heaven’s light combined;
So oft remembered, sherry coloured eyes,
To her, do seem to light the world entire;

And dreameth of his words with such esteem,
So thrilling, when of heart, or though of mind;
Then beautiful his music, as so wise
She thought his words, as ever both inspire.

Supreme, thy praise doth find me; and so kind,
I blush to prize, my love–my heart’s desire.

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

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Eyes of Fire; Feet of Brass:

My most dear Mrs. Emeron–so very sweet is she–oft-times refers to me as “a full gospel atheist,” and sometimes as “a full gospel agnostic.”   My very best friend, who is, in fact a full gospel, “full-on,” Mathematician for the Lord–as fully Christian as are so very many mathematicians–insists that I, Beloved of God, am possessed of the gifts of the Spirit–particularly that of Prophesy.  This is away and aside from my natural (Yote might say, God given) abilities regarding pattern recognition, which some might call my speciality.

How did I arrive at this strange place?  How did I come to be in this unusual condition?  I’m not sure I understand it myself.  Still, I might go so far as to say it is all in my background.

Today’s sonnet, or should I say, today’s return to arms, is religious in nature, and more specifically Christian, and more specifically still, Charismatic and onto being full gospel.  So I am fortunate then, in whatever unintended spiritual proclivities with which I may be endowed.

This offering is the result of a series of discussions.  It did require a bit of research, I am embarrassed to say; as, although the spirit is quite willing, the flesh–in particular, the memory–is weak.  And, not wishing to misquote the Almighty nor any of his Prophets or Apostles, I felt some specificity was warranted.

In structure it is a Reverse Petrarchan/Italian in the form: 1221, 2112, AABCBC; however it contains 5 embedded tercets which are of two tetrameters followed by one pentameter in the form AA1 BB1 CC1 DD1 EE1, which perfectly encompasses 13 lines.  Its Volta begins with the first syllable of the last line, which caps the 5 tercets off nicely.   So this one can be read in this way, if one desires, or one might read it in such a way to emphasize its sonnet structure.

And here is where I click the random links below without investigating their veracity or lack thereof.

Sonnet: Faith

My Lord, what is this folly, curse or prize
That Thou hast given to this child of Thine;
Perhaps, an answer to a prayer of mine;
Perhaps, an irony which satisfies

My very heart? Yet should I emphasize
The very art–particularly fine–
With which I am denied that sweetest wine:
That wish come true? If Thou wert truly wise,

Or simply knew what works of Thine were done,
I cannot but believe that gift would be
A sweetly kind and patronizing one;
Demanding nothing very real from me.
Considering the works I’ve done for Thee,
Couldst not Thou simply deign to set me free?

Sonnet V: The Peace Prayer | David Emeron: Sonnets

I have recently titled this one “The Peace Prayer” which is a reference to Samuel Clemens’ (Mark Twain) “The War Prayer”

These two are none too opposite, in that they both reflect something quite true, and point out, among other things, unintended consequences; Mr Clemens work, the untended consequences of war and praying for victory in war; and mine, the same for peace. This dichotomy underscores for me the nature of peace and how peace and freedom are related. Freedom, even here in the US, creeps away by inches. I think it must not matter the form of governance attempting to watch over it, except to say that the US has been remarkably resistant to this, particularly when one realises that we are much more a target for such sedition than perhaps any other civilised nation.

I have come to realise that there is only one price with which such freedom can be purchased back once it has crept away to a greater or lesser degree. That price is paid in blood. I believe our founders knew this and took amazing steps, given their circumstances, to preserve this hard won freedom for as long as possible.

She sang her hymn before her eyes had seen
The glory of the coming of the Lord;
The blood, and death, of mortar, gun, and sword;
And brother killing brother, long had been.

Then callow, sang of peace, with freedom won,
To eager faces, white, and brown… and black;
Whose liberty had just been handed back
Still soaked with blood by mortar, sword, and gun.

Imagine men had heard that hymn, four score
And seven years of blood and death before;
Heard next her callow, pacifists decree;
Laid down their arms to study war no more.

With shackled peace, from sea to shining sea,
What hue would, now, such eager faces be?

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Sonnet: His Birth

I celebrate with all today His birth,
And pray throughout these hours with those I love.
Myself, as humbled giving thanks, I feel,
Although He floateth not, I fear, above.

And true, I more am thankful of my worth;
For know such warmth as loved ones for me pray,
And bid Him all our spirits, pray, to heal,
Especially upon this Holy day.

Ye wretched, leave us pray for peace on Earth,
And contemplate your mirror’s twisted view,
Then hope, and change, or enmity conceal;
Be thankful that my loved ones pray for you.

For though I yet believe no God to be,
So also do I not believe in ye.

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Intro: Safety

I do not believe
But I celebrate and pray.
Loved ones pray for me.

Perhaps if I pray,
And someone is listening,
It will save my soul.

Probably, it won’t
Unless I believe in Him
And He’s really there

Perhaps, if I pray,
God will then reveal Himself.
Then I could believe.

It would be so grand.
If I knew He would take me.
To all my loved ones.

One friend has told me.
That because I once believed,
That still I am saved.

It feels like cheating.
But he insists it is not.
He says God loves me.

That’s what my name means
In the language of Moses:
“Beloved of God”

Once, I loved him back.
That feeling has never changed.
Though faith has withered.

Infinitesimal
The size of a mustard seed,
That can move mountains.

That’s what my friend says.
That’s reason enough to pray.
So I still do it.

Silent. On my own.
Sometimes I pray with loved ones.
It never hurt me.

It makes me happy.
When I do, I feel better.
Nothing’s wrong with that.

Pray with your loved ones;
It will make you feel better;
And won’t hurt at all.

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