Tag Archives: True

Sonnet: Be the Change

Posted by David Emeron on

I read; and then I write; and am refined.
I comment, then I like, and then agree–
Devoutly follow everything I see
And proudly let it wander through my mind.

The order which such actions are combined,
Could offer up a great variety.
Yet still, this order is, to some degree,
The one my heart prefers, and is inclined

To offer up my strength that I enrich
Each author, and his talent; and decree,
Though safe within my digital redoubt,

I’ll be the very transformation which
Into the world, I’ll bring, and wish to see;
And by my very actions bring about.

Sonnet: Tropic

Posted by David Emeron on

If I Could know or see a life completely
Through a man’s word, written; not unduly;
If, they have been blurred, and are not truly
Yet for me, intended.  Nor discreetly,

Read of she, her diary, so sweetly
Not a thread of insight, pathos, nor
A fresh idea, nor hatred even.  More
Of which I name, created more Completely?

Even understand it partly?  I
Think not. Knows my heart Miller when I read
His Tropic wrought; or Baudelaire to plumb
His Fleurs du Mal? We know, nor care not, why;
And whereupon shall words of men know heeding;
Merely learn what we, must needs, become?

Sonnet: Forgetting Time

Posted by David Emeron on

Alas, though I have searched throughout the nation,
Finding none alive as fair as she;
I thought, most certainly, that some would be
As they, who might approximate her station.

But, there lived not one in all creation;
Not withstanding that, already, we
Have formed a bond unbreakable. To thee
I’m joined, yet none awakened one temptation

That could steal my heart, from thee, away.
Such hurt do now I feel–when I renew
My certainty–for other men, who yet
May never know the firmament to sway
Upon the merest trace of she; forgetting
Time, while they, as mee, their hearts, pursue.

Sonnet XI: I Promise

Posted by David Emeron on

For Thou art she from whom my Manna flows
And Thou art she for whom I do exist
For Thee I have become a hedonist
For Thee Mine own Desire always grows

For Thou art She from whom my Love arose
And Thou art She with whom I do entwist
For Thee I live with Joy from tryst to tryst
For Thee I Write all Poetry and Prose

For Thee I undertake the mundane world
For Thee I go about my daily deeds
For Thee I show my inner self unfurled
For Thee I set aside all other needs

For Thee I Undertake the Pain to Learn
And Thee To Whom I Someday Will Return

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

Intro 11: Signature

Posted by David Emeron on

When I think back through
Those many decades behind us,
I feel lucky and quite foolish
For as each passed by,
It made much more clear
That there was no circumstance
So burdensome that it should keep us
From the place, from the one,
Where we, both of us,
Belong.

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