Tag Archives: These of my Dearest Love

Sonnet VI: How do I Touch Thee

Posted by David Emeron on

To thou, but when I see thee standing there;
My feelings, would I wish thee, hear me shout;
But when the fortunes of my heart despair,
May I thee touch, when can I not reach out?

So many times with thee my tongue were still,
And lay so quietly within its doubt;
Yet words would circle ’round my soul until
Thee sonnets write, when can I not reach out.

Yet words may leave my soul and heart as well;
And leave my hands as mute, my pen without;
How, soul and thought and heart, may I thee tell?
I play for thee when can I not reach out.

For, all my days I worship thee throughout;
In many ways, do I to thee reach out.

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

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Sonnet V: The Wraith who Played

Posted by David Emeron on

Long thence I, of thy miracle, so learned:
This, seeming to perfection, thou didst play;
Such beauty rare, I heard of this, thy bow,
That thou, such Earthly-wrought, couldst make Divine.

Such beauty, then too beautiful, were spurned;
For seeming not of Earth, thy beauty lay;
So rarely this, some Earthly ear should know,
This Heaven-wrought Divinity of thine.

To hear these rise from Earth to skies I’ve yearned;
Thy notes of such beatitude convey;
That soar and lift mee ’round where next they goe;
And to the stars that make, to thee, their shrine.

To paradise returned, I beg thee stay;
This music overflow; thy soul, to mine.

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

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Sonnet IV: The Wraith who Danced

Posted by David Emeron on

I close mine eyes–tight, to thee reprise–
Where vision’s current, swift; thy vision swept…
Away to take–fearing so to wake–
And quell thy current’s vision, tender slept:

For Love, I chance–came to thee, thy dance–
To beauty’s gracing thrill, my thrill to weep.
Thou leapt to fall–held me fast, thy thrall–
So lovely flight to last my thrilling sleep.

Too sweet thou shone–beguile unbeknown–
So dreamt I, never wake, thou wouldst mee tempt;
For sweet thou shine–gaspingly divine–
As moved me all to dream wherein I dreamt.

For, Love, I die… than–to vision’s eye–
Unlid thy current’s dream; my thrill, condemnt.

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

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Sonnet III: Tears and Tears

Posted by David Emeron on

At times, I cry… when remember I…
Such moments long ago, alone with thee,
When wouldst thou sing–weep, remembering–
Such times as when at first thou sang’st to mee.

And sweet thy song… delicate but strong…
That calmed such tears, as sweet thy notes would sing;
So quiet true–calming these anew–
Such tears as next to mee thy song might bring.

Thou knew’st not why… often would I cry…
Though lovingly wouldst soothe thou mee to sleep.
For when of thee–sadly did foresee–
Such lonely secrets once I sought to keep.

So cry to thee… fearing quietly…
That ripped I’d be, from thee away, and weep.

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

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Sonnet II: Long Foretold

Posted by David Emeron on

But once, I watched thee once, from far away,
In hopes, imagined once, to earn thy rest,
While daring not to dare this sweet display
Were all for mee–that dare I be so blest–
That bid thou might, and bid me soon, this day,
Thy song, to comfort bid, thou once professed.

To hour, and blesséd hour, to lay in sleep,
But soft, in soft congeniality;
To fade, this dolour fadeth by the hour;
And touch, so light thy touch, upon mee keep.
So round, thy lighted circle, ’round us be
Reborn, so safe reborn, within thy bower.

And would I hold thee safe, and would thee well;
As children, long ago, would long foretell.

  • I answer she,
    who hath for me
    this place forever kept.

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

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Sonnet I: Waiting Is

Posted by David Emeron on

And I…  have lost all life, all breath, all heart,
All sound, all sight; all sense hath left me blind.
For all I run to thee while sleep, apart…
I dare not hope but glimpse thee so confined;
But crystaled tears, this vision, showeth art;
And only then should know thy tears as mine.

I know thy lidded eyes press forth my tears;
And beg thee ope’ these jewels; see me there
Entreat thee, from this blindness, end my fears;
Wake thee, and wake thou me, from out this sleep,
This phantasm, this darkness, this nightmare;
And dare I thee to wake, wherefore I weep.

For thou, thy faith, thy dream, as pure whereby–
Waiting…  hoping… ever for mee… as I….

  • To my love;
    who hath for me
    ever waited.

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

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