Paradise and Youth,
Are they as one and the same?
Are they opposites?
Tag Archives: Loss
Sonnet I: What I Do
But can it be that I my love shall see?
May I expect a miracle again?
Is finding, once again, my dearest friend,
My Sister-Love, a possibility?
Our struggle has been cruel irony
As such, do I suppose, will be our end;
But for a little while I shall pretend
That this, the preordained, will never be.
In fact, I will remain God’s loyal slave,
Indentured ever, hoping for reward.
So Elevated, now, above the Knave,
That I can plainly see where such is stored.
So sure am I of God’s Great Path for me,
I know that He forgives my enmity.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 1: This Thread
I thought, of late,
that this
sweetness--
this new and joyous
sensation--
this miracle--
this thread of
innocence--would
be mine forever.
How slowly, how
quietly, how
stealthily, this
gossamer thread
was
cut...
Sonnet II: His Gift
Near every effort I express is less
Than what is necessary to survive;
Yet, I remain ironically alive
Although my work is not enough to bless
My life. But why then shall I acquiesce
To strife when all around me is the live,
Unending truth that I can still revive
My worthless Plod. To see within this press,
My worthless God has gifted me the tool
Of nothing; still, the only gift He has
To give. And I, His ever steadfast fool,
Must live within these scenes! I think that as
I die inside, these means I come to see:
That one thing God Himself has given me.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence: click here to read it all:
Intro 2: Sad
Sad it went, back then;
I yet could not see His light.
I knew, once I saw.
Sonnet VI: Her Call
I hear the rain; she calleth as she did
So many years ago. But now I can
Not heed this pain. She claimed me as her man;
No longer is it so. Thus am I hid
From she, whom hath she been, my dearest love.
Thou canst but ask: But why dost thou forsake
This holy path of love which thou bespake
To be the flask who’s nectars rank above
All fruit; wherethrough, all Gods and men, subsist.
But to be true, I sometimes answer her;
Though not so loudly she should know exists
The man she proudly loved, because he were
The shell of what he was, so shan’t she know
The depths, so shut, a failing love may go…
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 6: The Rain
I so love the rain
Especially the monsoons
Which we don’t have here
David Emeron: Sonnets 