Tag Archives: Musing

Sonnet VI: Her Call

Posted by David Emeron on

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:

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Sonnet IV: Her Dance

Posted by David Emeron on

Curious, the rain whence cometh down,
She falleth soft in overwhelming drops;
In peace, her quietly pervading sound
Transformeth sun and moon–so uninvited.

Strange, that once her drops, when they invade,
As former they, her forest’s ardour stops;
Though cities in the stead of trees pervade
And held as quiet sway–so unexcited.

Pleasing, how again she doth return
Such streets and buildings, parking lots and shops;
To older days  for which they seem to yearn,
So mixt with all her fallen tears–united.

Older she than land they wrest; her crops,
If brick or straw are we–and unrequited.

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

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Intro 4: Once More?

Posted by David Emeron on

Back, perhaps by popular demand,
Once again, shall my pen turn rainward,
To wash away one desire;

To cleanse its paper palette,
Making way for others quite the opposite,
Although every bit as lovely.

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Sonnet: Busy

Posted by David Emeron on

Can I look, can I listen, can I speak?
Can I stop, can I walk, or can I run?
Can I fetch, can I put, or am I done?
Can I drop, can I gather, may I seek?

Will I lead, will I later, will I sneak?
Will I first, will I last, or will I shun?
Will I few, will I lots, or have I none?
Will I feed, will I wallow, am I bleak?

Must I find, must I forfeit, must I do?
Must I know, must I guess, or must I now?
Must I brave, must I cower, should I bow?
Must I glow, must I grimace, am I blue?

If I may, am I dower, did I stray?
Can I pray, for more hours, in the day?

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Sonnet V: Redoubt

Posted by David Emeron on

All was given, everything was left,
And every hope would swell that I redeem
With nothing taken out; and when I deftly
Built up my redoubt, I felt returning

All that gifted, everything that stood
To gain and give me gain in my esteem
In every way in which such profit could
So bolster my redoubt, my feared concern

That some were not as they appeared; that next
To me–so closely held to my extreme—
So close my sense of safety had been vexed
To lay such siege, my hasty need to learn

How best to live within a fading dream
When once confessed, received, but did not earn.

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

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