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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471537" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sylvan Guest in the Forlorn Forest</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I lay in the resentment of serrated ryes<br>And beneath the tempest of impaling lances<br>That I stashed inside the scathing frame<br>Of my blatant harlequin repose; <br>Such a sapid filth, such a torment, <br>A stranger intruded my forlorn forest<br>Marauding with a flock of gypsies and pixies<br>Cloven beneath the echoes of her gyratory<br>Ebullience, submerged in her spruce plumes, <br>She laid another set of superfluous cards<br>In a house of marble and sycophantic pillars—<br>In the form of her vessel; gilded jewelries<br>Sealed in sprightly paintings and poetries<br>All for a shambling gambler's ineptitude<br>And unsheathe a sword of nimble odds<br>Succoring, caressing, a despondent hand<br>In an earnest finagling, you've sublimated<br>An ornate forest into a lustrous Silver Lake<br>Adorned by a buoyant polished Swan<br>Pardon my florid tongue, please do not dispense<br>This guise I feigned inside a poetry into<br>A brazen, unabashed, and deprived blarney<br>And I plea, do not err, do not be beguiled<br>For truth be unfurled, I like you<br>In the most unromantic fashion<br>So as to keep it unstained from treachery<br>And so, one night I opted to fold a letter<br>And slip it inside the notches of your door <br>And as I waft in writing you an epistle<br>About the gaiety, your gaiety, that tinkers<br>Beneath your wings, do you know that you have wings? <br>I saw you used it to inscribe and paint <br>And probe and divulge the unwritten splendor<br>Basking in every insignificant possessions<br>I dallied and mused upon your enigmatic grace<br>Are you the Zephyr: an ubiquitous crooning? <br>Or a damsel lost between your own lines? <br>Or a dreamer at the veers of every stroke? <br>A sanguine nomad in supernovas, or her fancy, thereof? <br>Perhaps, you are the psychedelic sunrise<br>Grazing the films of my weary eaves<br>And I would not permit Atropos or The Sisters<br>To rust our modest yet pliant chains<br>And the combing of your seething rays<br>Beaux of the unnamed king, <br>That thrones in a museum, <br>This is what I meant<br>When I called you a rubber duck, <br>You are, pleasantly, a guest<br>Purging an ornate forlorn forest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471537" data-title="Sylvan Guest in the Forlorn Forest de Norman Santos" data-description="As I lay in the resentment of serrated ryes
And beneath the tempest of impaling lances
That I stashed inside the scathing frame
Of my blatant harlequin repose; 
Such a sapid filth, such a torment, 
A stranger intruded my forlorn forest
Marauding w..."></div>
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