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.
Tag Archives: Romance
Intro 6: Wisely, Thou
Fame, for good or ill
May come unbidden to thee,
But thou wish it not.
Sonnet III: Take Thy Care
Above all, tend thy body, treat not cavalier
The vessel of thy mind and soul; for where
Thy foolishness, ephemera revere,
So ever, doth for each, the other care.
What providence might I impart of this!?
What bounty bring, avoiding such despair.
If not such caution, would I be remiss?
This wisdom, give I thee, beyond compare.
I yearn to tell the ease thou shouldst have won;
Or how simplicity wouldst bring thee bliss;
And wish thy time for these could be outdone–
Not lateness now these choosings reminisce.
Though ne’er may be these hands of time outrun;
So could thine ease much sooner have begun.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 3: Hindsight Observed
So simple are such
As would, effortless, give us
All our years; and more.
Sonnet II: The Most Important Thing
That art thou most of consequence to me–
Thy tender age doth all to me pertain–
What may I tell, that wouldst thou not foresee;
And warn of that from which thou shouldst abstain?
Fear not, shouldst thou, pursuit of all thine aims;
For rest shalt thou enough to persevere.
Nor fear the end of that which life proclaims;
For shalt thou cease, one day, to live in fear.
And never, thy demeanour, show as meek;
For this thine own frustration will prolong.
Nor fail to strive, believing thou art weak;
For shall, one day, travail make thee strong.
And know, thou shouldst, one truth, all else above:
With all thy strength, pursue thy dearest love.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: Message in a Bottle
If only I could
In this bottle fourteen lines,
Send away to thee;
To be understood,
What words, within these confines,
Only, should they be?
Sonnet: This
Withal such love within our worlds may be:
So must it live within our mind’s frontier?
Or might it dwell within our heart–sincere
Within our soul–wherein we may not see?
Can this I feel, though cannot touch in thee?
May such as this, made manifest, appear?
Or when such love perceivest thou, revere?
Dost this thou feel, though canst not touch in mee?
Yet of this unseen thing are we aware,
As much we would this phantom to possess;
For all its joys impart or its despair
Doth bring to us when once this thing profess.
So dangerous a thing should we declare,
That oft might curse, as well as it might bless.
David Emeron: Sonnets 