To all those who died,
Or who lost the ones they love:
I dedicate this.
To those left behind:
I wish it could be more than
A few empty words.
Tag Archives: Retribution
Sonnet II: Evil Orb
I will not see, I cannot know, nor feel;
I may not hear, nor taste, and no aroma
Will I sense, nor trace of joy, of home
Or mirth of soul or peace, nor can I kneel
In silent prayer, ending this ordeal.
It presses with the weight of stars, this dome
Of light, this hellish sphere of music, gloaming
Not, nor offering reprieve to heal.
And canst thou truly think thou art a blessing,
Evil orb, so frighteningly loud?
Thy cruel intention hard upon me pressing;
Burning death, in state, without a shroud;
Canst not thou see the lie thou dost profess;
With neither dusk, nor mitigating cloud?
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: It’s Fairly Obvious
First east, then it’s west,
It’s a fairly easy guess.
I’ll leave it to you.
Clearly, I’m not crazy about it. That much is certain.
Sonnet VI: Invocation
Pray now, defilers; pray there is no Hell;
For as you dredge all Greatness through the mire,
Yet fear your acts deserving of Its Fire,
Pray now, to quell this dread you cannot quell.
Pray now; then jeer and mock the Great to sell
Your squalid lie; equate your filth; conspire;
And crave Them all to die. With shrill desire,
Pray now; deny this Pit that may untell
Your lie–exact Its Payment for your crime.
And I… will pray Its Fires to be true,
That you, the unredeemable, will rue
Its searing brand–unyielding–as you plead,
Demand discarded Grace to intercede,
And beg… and shriek… and burn… for all of time.
- For Roger Kimball, Author of
the book for which
this sequence is named.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Sonnet IV: Heirs
Ye Gods: Ye Old and New, and Yet Unborn,
Ye need not climb with Armies of Your Own
To banish each corruption from its Throne;
But light from soul to soul, and each adorn
With Grace; and watch as true believers borne
Will magnify the knowing and the known
Until they have unnumbered billions sown.
And someday, to their young, will point and warn:
See there, my daughters and my sons, that stain
There, crawling nearly lifeless on our height?
Dare you believe it thought it had free reign
To tear down what was Beautiful and Right?
And all the youth will laugh, and never see
How such a foolish thing… could ever be:
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 4: If Only
I expected five. But for some unknown reason, four came before three, shortly after two. And that told the whole story. As well as five could. Reading them over, I sometimes see a fifth there, and sometimes I don’t.
David Emeron: Sonnets 