It May Not Be So
But then, from whence does it come?
Where, if not from this?
Tag Archives: Poem
Sonnet I: When He Fell
Might he have fallen when he saw her face,
If so enchanting was her smile–too young
Must she have been–and tyrian among
Oviedo’s great; or when she danced, so graceful
Were her palmas and her whirling lace,
She gave him tantalizing baile–flung
Careening adoration; when she sung,
As Andalusian cantos did embrace
Regarding not her reach; or did the sound,
Laughing delicate from out a learner’s
Able hand–nimble, did her fingers bound,
Tripping lightly over octaves–earn her
Triumph; with–crossing leagues of royal blue–
Iokean lips, though never history knew?
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 1: Quite A Challenge
If I have my way,
you’ll all know why
I wrote this.
And then,
you’ll also know why
I said it was
quite an intriguing challenge,
if you look closely.
Intro 9: What Begins
So close to the end,
So close to the beginning,
What begins this end?
Sonnet VII: Reflected
When I, within the mirror, thee regard;
But not of thine, which shone in silvered glass;
Nay, this, that all the many years discard;
As though no year might ever for thee pass.
So fair, thy sherry coloured hair and eyes;
Thy perfect form I see, as straight and hard;
Thy smile, seeming beautiful and wise;
And strong thy limbs, by time are nary scared.
If thou couldst know what wonders thee await;
More wondrous than most any thou surmise;
If thou couldst only see thy pain abate;
And know how much of life this pain denies.
How few thy years; alas, how little wait;
My life surpast, when thou such things instate.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 7: To Have Courted Wisdom
I wish I would have
I wish I could have listened
To every wisdom.
Sonnet VI: If Only Knewest Thou
If thou aboundest not with glory, seek
Thou ever this; for if thy world is rife
With glory’s joy, shalt thou abound to speak;
And shalt abound with glory in thy life.
So joyous wouldst thou ever, if thy place
Should, once, thy glory sing; although oblique,
And ne’er regard thy lack of fame, disgrace,
As such; though fame and glory are unique.
Devoid of one another, both exist.
Though righteous one, the former may debase,
Impossible, unbidden, to resist.
So seek must thou this blessing, to embrace
That strife will fail to find thee in its midst–
The knife that in thy glory, yearns to twist.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 