Tag Archives: Poem

Sonnet III: Footsteps

Posted by David Emeron on

So glorious thou walked upon this path;
For once I knew when saw thy footsteps there;
When followed each, so taken me it hath
To far beyond such lands within my care.

What mysteries upon this land I see;
So curious thy fruit as here doth grow;
That first appeareth, here beneath some tree,
To change when I extend my hand to know.

So shall I follow once to see such things;
And yet again to see how these are grown;
And even more to see what harvest brings;
And stay to learn this bounty of my own.

When even as I reap what thou hast taught;
Yet still I study close what thou hast wrought.

  • Reading Lady Day
    To study her metaphors;
    Here are some I learned.

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

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Sonnet I: Empty

Posted by David Emeron on

I wish, O poetess, had not thou gone,
‘Least in thy stead thy words so wish remained.
Where hast thou hence thy beauty borne away?
And whence hath run thy passion unconstrained?

For thee, in early morn I searched; the dawn
Had not yet broke, nor made the rain to slake;
But now, forever falling rain might stay,
And dawn, I fear, or joy, might never break.

To whence were hid thy words I goe anon,
Or thence wherein my heart thy words might tend.
So ever seek the light shall I of day;
Thy dawn to chase, this rain in hopes might end;

Await the dawn until return again
Thy words, and fondly beg thou wilt remain.

  • To Lady Day,
    With so fond regard
    I scarce can say

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

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Intro 1: To Rhonda

Posted by David Emeron on

Ever missed are friends
Whenever they have left us,
Emptiness remains.

If Spring, or Winter,
They, into our lives, have come;
Whether far away,

Very close at hand,
Or in person, never met,
We still will miss them.

So many have gone;
Some, so very long ago.
I wished their safety;

Drank to their success;
But keep, so very deeply,
My wish to see them.

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Sonnet: Definite

Posted by David Emeron on

Before me stood an apparition, still,
A spectre stood, I thought, before me; there,
Upon my garden trestle, stealthy came;
When first, I looked upon a pensive stare.

Regarding me, this silent wraith; her chill,
Unearthly gaze–or were it baneful gleam–
At first so menacing, then slyly tame,
Unfathomably deep, her eyes did seem.

Then spake she once, not whispering nor shrill
yet understood I not what hath she said.
Though close regarded what she would exclaim
My pounding heart were all I heard instead.

Yet now I will–when thrill to hear thy voice–
Rejoice–and shame–the lateness of my choice.

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