Tag Archives: Poetry

Sonnet II: What Is Kept

Posted by David Emeron on

Take care young girl in what thou keepest real,
For what thou real profess, wilt thou become;
And be thy carriage drawn to thine ideal,
Wherefore should–pure for thee–white horses come?

This trap  thou,  from  thy cold demesnes, create;
So frozen deep canst thou escape therefrom;
May not thy carriage, soul with ice conflate;
Through frost, could–lost to thee–white horses come?

How good or sweet, when meanness harsh thy word,
Bereave thine heart, and lovely spirit numb?
For passed thy carriage, thine entreat unheard;
And would–nor should to thee–white horses come.

Thy carriage, see to rancour’s cost, succumb.
And ne’er–not ere for thee–white horses come.

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

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Intro 2: Reality May Bite

Posted by David Emeron on

What is real to thee
So real does it ever seem,
May be a phantom.

Take care this realness
Is not a dagger with which
To slay thine own soul

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Sonnet I: What Is Lost

Posted by David Emeron on

Readeth not these lines; they are not, young girl,
For thee. They are, to souls like thine, forbidden,
Though they may betray what hast thou hidden
In thine heart, these words should not unfurl

Thy feelings. Thou hast cast thy lot to hurl
Them, stealing–strong or even weak, amid
The squealing swine to be forever hid–
From thine own soul, unknowing, every pearl.

Readeth, thou must not, these lines; they do not
Describe what hast thou chosen. Even now,
Thine heart is frozen. Thou hast cast thy lot
Not winning life, but dreary death; for thou

Hast chosen strife, bereft of song and verse;
And all thy long tomorrows are a curse.

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

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Intro 1: If Only

Posted by David Emeron on

Could you see in Spring
what I have seen in Summer,
you might have chosen

fulfilment in life
in Fall to better yourself.
And then, looking back,

you might even see
how desolate in Winter
your life might have been,

if you had never
made that fateful decision
on one Spring morning.

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Sonnet IX: The Damned

Posted by David Emeron on

Sell all your daughters and enslave your sons;
And pray they find a swift mortality;
Loot boys of childhood, strapped to bombs and guns;
And stone the little girls, once made you smile;

And close your eyes or turn your back; destroy,
Make hard your heart, to this reality;
Unclothe your helpless infant girls and boys
And mutilate them all; deaf to this vile

Lament; and let their wailing be the first
As worship to their god’s brutality;
Your agonising life and theirs is cursed;
Kindness… mercy… and love… are all a trial.

Unchained, you’ll wish a stranger peace and life;
Most likely on your way to stone your wife.

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

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Sonnet VIII: The Craven and the Valiant

Posted by David Emeron on

I’ve been ashamed I have not held the line
Myself. Nor shown respect for those who did
Nor ever thought I could, a thought kept hidden
On a shelf of false disdain, maligning

Those who would; and pained to think my spine
Was weak. At least, until that day undid
My cravenness. That day I knew, amid
My web of lies, that woven not of mine–

No, tangled from another’s twine, a slack
And mangled maven–much more meek, supine,
More cowardly as then I was.  No black
Nor white existed, why the fuss? he late
Insisted, only grey: The grey of hate
Of they who save the day, and hold the line.

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

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Intro 8: This was the Moment

Posted by David Emeron on

The moment that I knew
That I spoke of long ago
Was in the summer.

In a stadium,
For the first time I heard it
We pledged allegiance

Many times I’d heard
Many times I’d said the words
This time, I listened.

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