Tag Archives: Romantic Realism

Sonnet I: Mirror

Posted by David Emeron on

To feel my hand upon a shape, a form
I find familiar in its drape: though known,
It overwhelms my hand by touch alone,
Though sight and sound and scent and savour warm

Me to its thrill, its pleasurable norm,
And call me to its side.  And I alone
May know I should confide in that I own,
And hence am owned by that which I transform.

I feel it know at once, as once I know
The day such stark perfection will arrive.
I know reflexively, almost as though
The figure in the mirror comes alive

And reaches out with anything but this:
A touch of any kind, except a kiss.

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

Permalink

Intro 1: A Wish

Posted by David Emeron on

Most definitely
Take care, for what you don’t wish,
You might not receive;

And take special care,
For when you make no wishes,
None will be granted.

Permalink

Sonnet VIII: By Any Other Name

Posted by David Emeron on

For I, thy gifts supernal might suppose,
Thy daggered figure, cut, as by a blade,
Enough impending, chilling to impose,
Enough avowed, to make the world afraid;

Enough, without the whisper of a roar,
To quail, as judgement sharp would juxtapose;
Enough, when it were seen, enough before,
To pale when it has been, that next arose.

Enough to chill, undaunted though profess,
Might they; When they behold their fear, deplore;
Enough, this fearsome scrutiny to lessen
Say, that judgement least, is judgement more:

This naked cut, no man would dare to dress,
None adorn, none to aid, and none to bless.

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

Permalink

Sonnet VII: Helpless

Posted by David Emeron on

So dark within this place, what is this grey
Like velvet fire that would my hand subdue?
Can this–such sweetest pliancy as may
Command my strength to helplessness–be true?

What should I from this helplessness construe
That further took my senses night from day?
Though ne’er would I this mastery through
Any means demand, excepting I obey.

I take what is demanded and delay,
As valiantly I must, what is my due;
And all this tempest, bid me on its way,
Is great in all it promiseth anew.

Much more thou knew’st than wouldst thou ever say;
Thy sweetness grew that burned my will away.

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

Permalink

Sonnet VI: Landscape

Posted by David Emeron on

When I have seen this place–this loveliness
That sweeps with valley as with rolling hill.
With meadowland and velvet can it bless
My hand, unfettered form, or lips but still.

Yet each would know that restless, is this place,
As Earth; as sweet, as wanton, and as cruel;
For what it gives it also takes, its face
With joyfulness, intense with warm or cooling

Passion is this vexing earth, not restful
Knowing never what it feels nor wants
And seldom what would serve its beauty best.
Not once can it be stilled; see how it daunts:

Yet even if I willed myself as much
To seek another clime, I would thee touch.

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

Permalink