AnElephantCant hide his great pleasure
To meet folk who know sweet Lady Day
This place is quite grubby
But please bring your hubby
And just pop in next time you’re passing this way
AnElephantCant
Conceive how wonderful are
My sweetheart’s Smiles.
Tag Archives: Poem
Sonnet: Jena
Just wait ’til dost thou see her, as have I;
A luscious and so mischievous a thing;
Not hesitant her mind to speak, or tease;
Enjoying every twist that might it bring.
To know her is, as I, to know her wry
Tempestuousness, enervated so.
And take from thee delight, as doth she please;
But even then, so much doth she bestow.
Endow thee all the more, doth she thereby,
Regarding not thy happiness nor joy;
No good to give, that first did not appease;
In truth, wilt not thou notice, but enjoy.
Enigma wrapped in mystery is she,
Rewarding us this fortune, I, and thee.
- One more for Jena
Intro: Once More
My devoted friend
Though better late than never,
This, I promised you.
Sonnet X: Labyrinth
His shape as pleaseth me, this fiery art
Doth longsome dream to me whilst gripped in sleep.
Shot through with lightning’s fire, doth dream impart
Such thrill: convivial to wake, to weep,
To think it trivial that thence I’ve gone,
That this Oneiran path: forever lost;
Not Morpheus, nor Hypnos’ other Spawn
Reveals’ this darkened place to whence I crost;
For these three Sons shall ‘ever show
A mortal man each labyrinth but once.
So at my waking hour, must I go
Away within imaginings, unless some bunce
Befall me; kindly providence might choose
To call me with such luck as I may use.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Sonnet IX: Eros Philia Agape
As perfect thee, thine image as thine art:
Sublime, as sculpture’s ideations see;
Though mere in thought do such ideals exist,
My hands believe perfection thus to be.
Do not I trust this truth my hands impart
When next they touch conviction wrought of fire:
This certitude of which mine eyes insist
When they confirm withal my hands acquire;
Wherefore our brothers, hath He given heart
That for the other, petuous, will burn;
For she, from whom our brothers’ ribs consist,
Do all of us, this undespoilt, yearn.
For one: with art, we praise His strength thereof;
The other: doth enlist with us His love.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 9: In Truth
Do not thou name me;
For, by this very naming,
Shalt thou name thyself.
Do not thou brand me;
For, by this vile branding,
Art thou, so branded.
Sonnet VIII: His Hand
Look ye upon this hand and then suppose
Ye know its master’s strength; as must it be
perceived, its width and length are plain to see,
conceived for war or mercy as he chose.
From grace to passion, powerful it flows’
To keep ye captive; both extremes agree;
Enrapt, gave ye desire with strength to free
Such still and racing hearts as passion knows.’
To bate thy breath, its mastery displayed,
To touch thee known, or thee beyond compare,
And bind thy strength, or thee thy beauty there;
Command in both, this hand shall be obeyed:
Such frailty and such power thus are swayed;
Perfection to ensnare, succumb, prepare!
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 