“We sleep soundly in
our beds because rough men stand
ready in the night
“to visit vio-
-lence on those who would do us
harm.” – Winston Churchill
Tag Archives: Poem
Sonnet II: The Devoted
So fine are ye who hold the line unsung
By any but those proud few men who know–
By virtue of their own devotion; though
They boast not how they crossed an ocean; young;
An age at which so few would broach, among
Themselves, such grave and worldly things; who show
The world, by deeds, that matters which bestow
Such life! such death! affairs of kings! who slung,
So rife with breath, together, tales told
And sung, and written down, with reverence;
Who know the price which, sometimes, must be paid;
Who, though as any, fear malevolence,
Dare throw down tyrants, numbering untold;
Who pay with blood–the sum that freedom weighed.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: Nothing
Nothing I can say
Nothing that I can conceive
Can express my thanks
Nothing will ever
Be enough to help them feel
My esteem for them.
Sonnet I: The Beat of the Drum
I’ll answer every call, Though I know I
Might die quickly; yet answer will I still.
While knowing I could fall, and although I
Might be sickly; yet answer them I will.
Even if I am alone, I’ll answer
With conviction; nor even hesitate.
‘Til our tyrants’ overthrown, no plans or
Dereliction, will keep me from their gate.
If we are in chains, and none are free, for
Life is empty, I’ll even fight my kin.
Doubtless, ’til remains, upon the sea or
Land, of them, we have scattered to the wind.
Free, is this, my land; joined, but not by chains;
‘Til no man can stand; ’til no man remains.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Sonnet: Perfection
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?
Intro: When I Write About Love
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
Sonnet IV: Angelic
So like an angel dost thou, by me, sleep;
So peaceful dost thou dream and give me dreams;
So like a child do I sleep. It seems
I dream anew thy gifted dreams, and keep
Mine own in peace, and never do I weep;
For I am safe, as safety thine redeems;
For I, as thou, am safe from all extremes;
For I may rest, as thou–may rest as deep.
An I awake, when deepest sleep is done,
Shall all thy peace remain within; and yet
Such peace, as I describe, cannot be won,
Without the price of love, I shan’t forget;
And when our dreams, as once again are spun
No pleasure as we dream shall go unmet.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 