Tag Archives: Love

Sonnet IX: Trapped

Posted by David Emeron on

No choice for me to sanctity refuse
Nor hesitate to tenderness adore;
Too long had I such reticence before
My failing-fast reluctance to excuse.

No choice to make; regard the choiceless muse–
That love to which in helplessness I swore.
No choice to take, no helpless choice, the lore
Whose wonderment would grant me solace, whose

Enthral would thrall me with her soft caprice,
Whose warming shield would warn me then into
Whose fate and fatelessness I would pursue.

But now, to cease the hold its hold would cease,
And nary muse nor swear an oath to peace,
My heart will sing its praises to be true!

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

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Sonnet VIII: Hope

Posted by David Emeron on

For one, who sometimes wished or feared to die
Unknown; for one, who grieved or sought to leave
Alone; for one, who would not say goodbye;
Whose mercy then would mercilessly try;

For what shall mercy take ’til mercy’s gone
Awry; for what deceiving took to grieve
To cry; for whom, should hope be ‘stowed upon
Whose ardour then would ardent live anon;

And who, in ardour’s happiness had felled
His fate; and who, naive, could earn reprieve
As late; and who, in clarity was held
As sanctified as sanctity dispelled:

Who held enthral, and mercied to deceive;
Who grieved to call his folly or his fall.

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

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Sonnet VII: Despair

Posted by David Emeron on

Beyond too joyous hope to hope to fall
From grace, beyond the reach Thy creeping call
Would trace, beyond the eve that would deceive
Our life and love to misery’s enthral:

Away, we run and hide from Thy dispelled
Enchant, a way to slip away Thy held
Incant, away! ’til we’ve some scant reprieve
Some innocence of that our lives were felled.

Depart our path! so might we live anon
Past night; depart! or join us now upon
Our flight; for we perceive that Thou wouldst grieve
Would we depart without Thee, and were gone.

But still… our love would try… to still goodbye,
To stay our leave… and hesitate to die.

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

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Sonnet IV: Hour Lives

Posted by David Emeron on

All life with thee is given me, alive
Withal, for each, by each, to our increase;
An hour, and our lives as do we strive
A second’s brief eternity to lease.

And seconds lived eternally to gift
Us aeons whereupon, should we survive
As aeons of eternity adrift,
Not one brief second ever shall deprive

Our joy, as joy to both of us so strives.
And years as seconds nightly pass as swift
As all the teeming joy that nightly thrives;
As all the seeming seconds briefly lift.

Then cease our fleeting aeons; each survives
Release, yet fleets the seconds of our lives.  Then…

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

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Sonnet IV: What Remains

Posted by David Emeron on

Although to thee thou wouldst that life is lost;
Declaim the shame of all that it contains;
My love doth live in this thou wouldst accost;
Yet see how free her innocence remains.

I would that shouldst thou know thine eyes may trust,
That she as thee such trial here sustains;
Though long hath life to her so dealt unjust;
Yet still she will her innocence remains.

I pity thee if still thou canst not see,
The difference from thy sameness she attains;
Though lost, thy life the same, my love is free;
Through this abyss, her innocence remains.

So deep the sweetness still thy soul contains,
I pray this day thine innocence remains.

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

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Sonnet: Perfection

Posted by David Emeron on

When hast thou seen, as meant for only thee,
Such eyes as widen gaily at thy sight?
And at thy voice a face that ever bright
Hath lit as though thy soul hath set it free.

And hast thou heard a voice so peacefully
Conformed, as though it found a place to light
As warmly and as permanently might
A thing as claimed its perfect place so be?

Or hast thou not this wonder ever seen?
And hast thou not this perfect moment felt?
Nor felt thine own eyes widen, as for thee
Delighted by thine own, that face hath been?
Hast not thou love, as hath my love for mee?
Hast not thine heart within perfection dwelt?

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Intro: When I Write About Love

Posted by David Emeron on

I’d write about love
I could write all day and night
The words would pour out

But I think it would
because of my own true love
be all too easy

I think I could write
Thrice as I have written once
Time would almost stop

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