don’t ask me
what they mean
ask Browning
or God
Tag Archives: Mystery
Sonnet: Kept Faith
Have faith, my sweet, believe that I will rise
As high as life requires, at the least.
So quiet then the tears within thine eyes.
I promise, certain as is life, increased
Beyond that borderline, shall I release
Decisively, and with resolve, reprise
My triumphs past, and so surpassed, appease
Divinity herself; such feats, she’d prize.
For thee, within the chance of life, I thrive;
In everything I do or may achieve.
With thee, I cannot help but ever strive
To manifest such feats as we conceive.
For thee, and with thee, I am come alive.
For thee, and with thee, if thou but believe.
Intro: Yours and Mine
I believe I can’t,
But you believe that I can,
Yours is the stronger.
Sonnet IV: An Oath
No Oath, no cause, nor promise do I need;
For promises, with duty, must be kept.
This violet, a promise could impede;
For I, by every faculty, am swept
To tend, and make to prosper, every bloom.
I long have tried to stay my hand; but could
Not ever stay my soul; nor–and, assuming
Such could keep me whole–remand, for good
Or ill, that Holy Thread I share with God.
His will–all beauty, and all bounty, came
From His divine, all knowing light–abroad
To His creations fly; and in His Name,
Created He those beings He deemed as great,
Entrusted, in His image, to create.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 4: Five Petalled Flower
It’s not a beastbut is a gift to release the blessings He commands. I have much enjoyed this particular sequence. Perhaps you will too. The style varies from old to new. It changes as do the seasons.
Sonnet: Gone
Through countless centuries you’ve gone with me.
You’ve followed me from world to world it seems;
To other galaxies and into dreams
Of lands that never were or will not be.
Whenever from I call, you’ve heard my voice,
So ready to be taken to the place,
From which I, longing, called to you. Your face,
Alight with angels’ fire, so too, with joys
Of more, and greater, joy which was to come;
Of promised beauty that you knew you’d see;
Of past events whose fabric only we
Would touch; of futures, countless, and wherefrom
My dreams, if held alone, could not come true—
So meaningless, if not because of you.
Intro: Everything I Do
The second time she
asked me to write a sonnet,
this is what I wrote.
Everything I write
is for my wife. Has always
been. Shall ever be.
Everything I do,
my very life. As much hers
As it is for me.
Hers is every word
as I write, or as I read–
graphite, ink, or throat.
I think I may have gotten carried away there. So I might as well present in proper format all of the above.
Written in July of 2012. Does it count, or not?
David Emeron: Sonnets 