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Robert Sterling Poem
No truer truths can take me too far from here
Myself alone now viewing what I see as true
Torn from within an inner sepulcher once caked with fear
Made truer now by old offences now found few
I shake the must that's oozed into my adjacent earth
And ask of what borders will I dwell if seen above
The blanching soil that marks the mete of any birth
And ends in essays drawn from hell or love
When all is done, as now, there'll be a quiet end
As the mind's appetite winds down its furious grind
Substantiating proof that there's no better friend
Than one's ideas freed from a safer life confined
Give me love then, and spare the perplexing test
That challenges what in the heart is known best
Copyright © Robert Sterling | Year Posted 2018
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Robert Sterling Poem
Sonnelle 1
Love, that juvenile, betrays our conscience
Not knowing conscience born of love
The subtle deceiver urges us through the abyss
Memories of past faults
And in betrayal, whatever form
Avoids the body’s treasons
Our minds, asleep, hope for fonder dreams
Our souls, forgotten in petty triumphs
Still themselves to measured reason
Such triumphs, now long forgotten
Point to their iconic prize: pride
While by it, conscience stands aside
Contentment prodding us along
Forgetting details of affairs
Not wanting for clearer conscience
Yet holding to the call:
The love for which one will rise and fall
Copyright © Robert Sterling | Year Posted 2021
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