perfection is seen reflected
in the blade of my sword
greens and golds
melt on the blade
with a thin edge of blue
snow swirling,
resting, melting,
white glimmers,
now red as it reflects
early blooms of quince
blood rust, sun gold
seasons change
shades of grey
glints of starlight and full moon
in the blackness after midnight
an ever changing picture
less than two inches wide
I set myself this task and then I’m free
To fly abroad to anywhere I choose;
With confidence, assisting in my prime
Companions’ search with nothing I might lose.
They might or mightn’t choose to let me be;
Though never doth their circumstance confuse
My only wish as yearns to take this time,
That this, a burden is, to disabuse.
And clearly, doth my love, to this degree,
Encompass all their lives, and to suffuse
Complex, with all its mystery, this crime
With eager resolution. Know I whose
Bleak life shall see enrichment that ensues?
‘Tis mine, so lifted, by this double muse.
By any song, in night, that dost thou sing,
If with thy lips shalt sing, my dearest one;
Or make to sing my soul, thy touch doth bring;
Or strong thine arms surroundeth, sing my heart.
And when doth sing thy smile, to heal, to rest;
And sing to fret the tyme away, undone
By song; yet still the finer am I blest
By music, by thy words, and by thine art.
But only thus, thy song shouldst bid me sleep–
Thy song, my shelter, sweep away the sun,
I beg of thee thy promised song, and weep
That shouldst thou hold mee fast, and ne’r us part
Until thy quiet fight–when hast thou won–
Requite the day, that thou expressed: Depart!
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
By my love’s sweet words
Am I, once again, inspired.
She bringeth magic!
“By any song thou dost sing, my dearest one.
To heal, to rest, or to fret the tyme away
Only thus, that thou shouldst hold fast
And defy the daylight.”
Throughout, within, the night’s surrounding warm,
Distraught of daylight’s merciless advance:
One hand to touch, though trembling, my arm;
One smile’s joy, one smile’s graceful dance;
One kiss sustains, one kiss throughout the night;
One touch through daylight’s cruel and bitter sting;
One tear, upon one cheek, what solace might
It bring, that touch and smile and kiss would sing?
What voice? What dulcet tone, such golden song
Should sing? What arm to lay me down to sleep?
What sweet surround my head to hold? So long
A Night I need–and warm–a bed to keep
Me safe, perhaps, if substance I may bring;
And heal–perhaps, or not–if love I sing.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Shall not be love that
Doth wherewith I now sustain?
And this, forever.
So languish thee, with veiled eye, thou poet,
When thou knowest breaking is the dawn;
For when thou wakest then, thy quill is still;
Though sleep, though rest is done, thy dream is gone.
And languish thee, at dawn’s decry, thou poet
Though thy dream escapeth through the morn;
At rest, and restlessness, this day thou lay
With each forgotten dream of thine unborn.
Then languish thee, though bright the sky, thou poet
Uninspired, helpless at midday,
Though sun with beauty bathes–at best a jest,
Its rays inspire golden fields of hay.
Now languish poet, day is not yet done;
Yet soon ’tis afternoon–the sun… has won.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 