Things I have not seen…
But wish that someday I shall…
In another life…
In another time…
Although my faith is lacking…
I want the next life…
So I may see you…
Dance for me, and play for me…
As never I’ve known….
Tag Archives: Soul
Sonnet IV: Her Remembrance of My Music
From out his music here doth ’round me spin
A fabric, quickly woven, as of light,
From golden thread of gossamer, so fine,
This shield around me now; and I inside.
And here! I see the hues of light within,
That dance about me, furious in flight;
And here! I see his music tryst and twine
And mimic and encircle and collide.
His song that maketh touch and sight therein
And sound, and taste, and even scent, unite;
Where memory of past and future, mine,
Shall join, and like a prism, subdivide.
So why reach out when all within is right?
For here, confined, doth all my soul reside!
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 4: How I Play
Regarding my music,
My sweetheart wrote me a poem;
And so beautiful.
I fear it was lost,
forever lost or taken;
lost to both of us.
I recall some lines;
I remember its structure;
But not perfectly.
And I very well
recall how it made me feel,
long ago, in spring.
So I give my love
All that I now remember,
Within this sonnet:
Sonnet II: By My Love’s Sweet Words
By any song, in night, that dost thou sing,
If with thy lips shalt sing, my dearest one;
Or make to sing my soul, thy touch doth bring;
Or strong thine arms surroundeth, sing my heart.
And when doth sing thy smile, to heal, to rest;
And sing to fret the tyme away, undone
By song; yet still the finer am I blest
By music, by thy words, and by thine art.
But only thus, thy song shouldst bid me sleep–
Thy song, my shelter, sweep away the sun,
I beg of thee thy promised song, and weep
That shouldst thou hold mee fast, and ne’r us part
Until thy quiet fight–when hast thou won–
Requite the day, that thou expressed: Depart!
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: My Words, Her Words
By my love’s sweet words
Am I, once again, inspired.
She bringeth magic!
“By any song thou dost sing, my dearest one.
To heal, to rest, or to fret the tyme away
Only thus, that thou shouldst hold fast
And defy the daylight.”
- Writeth My Dearest
Intro 7: Unabashed
An encore of sorts,
A sequence is at an end
But it demandeth.
So calleth now this
To occupy. What soul this?
What hath I then wrought?
Sonnet I: Mirror
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:
David Emeron: Sonnets 