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.
Tag Archives: Romantic Realism
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:
Intro 8: He Touches
For whom is this hand
For thee in strength, or tender,
Or for thee in war?
Sonnet III: Secret
For this thou speak, though doubtful would suppose,
Nor hesitate obliquely to confess.
Regarding friendship still, thou might obsess
Beyond all compass; thrill-swept, as the throes
Wherewith to cloy thyself so rapt, express
Thine own determined joy. But not oppose
Desire desire‘s object might impose.
Conspired and familiar, this excess:
Unnamed delight, and wicked to implore,
This: framed–as though for art, or to explore,
Or greater havoc know–it would appear
Unleashed, a glow one nary could ignore
In life’s brief curtain: coy, intent, sincere
Thou wouldst covert revere; but not adore.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 3: My Form
When I write of it
That I tend to hesitate
Still; so intimate,
But one of beauty
Is not an object of shame:
The human body.
Sonnet II: Unleashed
For this I want, though seldom would disclose;
Or hesitate to vaunt, or to posses.
Regarding friendship’s trial, I might obsess
Beyond consideration, while the throes
Wherewith I drown myself… so rapt, bestows
Determination bound. But not unless
Desired, desire’s object might profess.
Admired and familiar, this repose
I name: delightful, wickedness. Revere
This touch I frame as art, or I implore,
Or even further; know this would appear
Unleashed, to go where one cannot ignore.
Severe and certain, certainly sincere,
Mine own to this explore, but not endear.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: His Form
The human body
Is not an object of shame,
But one of beauty.
Still, so intimate,
That I tend to hesitate,
When I write of it.
David Emeron: Sonnets 