Tag Archives: Spirit

Sonnet VI: Exalted

Posted by David Emeron on

In aire, dost–poise thou in His image–fly
Perfection! bronzed against Hyperion’s blaze;
Exalted! at thy nadir by His rays;
With mastery! dost thou hold thy piece of sky.

In aire, for thee, hath stopt all time; on high,
At perfect flexion, as His Son displayed:
Retract, and tense, ’til once thou deign obeyed
His gravity, that deign thou not defy.

Down! by His unseen force, to Earth art thrown;
Descend thou! as I gasp–thy devotee.
Thou! slicing air! perfection still outshone!
And twist! and roll! and turn! to all degree!
As fly thou through devoted hands alone
With thee, who hast so Godly kist the sea.

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

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Intro 6: Fought to Perfection

Posted by David Emeron on

Shall such perfection poised skyward
Be tossed amongst the Gods themselves; displayed,
and cast, spinning, into Heaven….

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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:

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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:

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Sonnet IV: Her Hand

Posted by David Emeron on

Yet lightly, and demure in size, doth touch
This hand, that doth caress unlike mine own.
Not slight, and yet not strong, but sure of such
As it commandeth, earnestly, then coy.

As teareth me away from my command
So might I fall, as willing, from my throne.
And dareth my resolve, that it withstand
Delightful magic, as it might deploy.

Its form, as true, yet different from its brother
Whom it, mercilessly, hath outshone.
Hath God imbued it, greatly, with another
Element, diverse, as would employ

Such ease–an action planned,  would it postpone;
That please, from out thine hand, thy love enjoy?

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

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