Tag Archives: Musing

Sonnet II: Challenge

Posted by David Emeron on

How may a challenge take so many names:
The first, a journey struck with spirit bright;
The next, a stolid, firm, determined, fight;
And then, a simple, tired tread–a game

Although the dream were dead–and next, it came
Relentless, as it yet were sanctified;
Without surrender, lest be dignified
Thus; that the game were lost? The very blame

Was hidden in the cost of keeping on
Within a blackened dream. How challenging
This fourfold path must seem, when what is gone
Is purity, which such a dream may bring.

But fivefold is the path of righteous grief,
When challenge is pursued without belief.

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

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Sonnet: Diary

Posted by David Emeron on

Can I know or see a life completely
Through a man’s written word? Not unduly;
Suppose, they have been blurred, and not truly
Intended for me. Nor, though discreetly,

Read of she, her diary, so sweetly
Not a thread of insight nor pathos, nor
A fresh new idea, even hated. More
Of which I name, created? Completely?

Even understand it partly? No I
Think not. Knows my heart Miller by reading
The Tropic he wrought, or Baudelaire from
His Fleurs du Mal? We know, nor care not, why;
And whereupon shall man’s words know heeding;
We merely learn what we, must needs, become?

Sonnet: Tropic

Posted by David Emeron on

If I Could know or see a life completely
Through a man’s word, written; not unduly;
If, they have been blurred, and are not truly
Yet for me, intended.  Nor discreetly,

Read of she, her diary, so sweetly
Not a thread of insight, pathos, nor
A fresh idea, nor hatred even.  More
Of which I name, created more Completely?

Even understand it partly?  I
Think not. Knows my heart Miller when I read
His Tropic wrought; or Baudelaire to plumb
His Fleurs du Mal? We know, nor care not, why;
And whereupon shall words of men know heeding;
Merely learn what we, must needs, become?

Sonnet: Forgetting Time

Posted by David Emeron on

Alas, though I have searched throughout the nation,
Finding none alive as fair as she;
I thought, most certainly, that some would be
As they, who might approximate her station.

But, there lived not one in all creation;
Not withstanding that, already, we
Have formed a bond unbreakable. To thee
I’m joined, yet none awakened one temptation

That could steal my heart, from thee, away.
Such hurt do now I feel–when I renew
My certainty–for other men, who yet
May never know the firmament to sway
Upon the merest trace of she; forgetting
Time, while they, as mee, their hearts, pursue.