<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471552" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Bassinet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Amidst the numberless aplomb soughs<br>Of these gaunt trees' deciduous<br>And supercilious burlesque show<br>I don myself with pertinacious <br>Diffidence to a grin or moue <br>Clad only with apathy for my bruise<br>And torment for every woe<br>The only way I can call truce</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched the sly sky watchers<br>Chime the bells of their depleted shells<br>But stashed their docile tinkers <br>With the astray echoes in the wells<br>Daunted to be inflected with slanders<br>Shrunk within their own hells<br>A cellar of solitude, a visceral chamber<br>Where they lock themselves to fiddle </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Are we all betrothed to the starless sky? <br>Or are we one with the dark clouds<br>Curtaining the firmament in a wry? <br>Of our adamant vision and silence aloud <br>Are we chagrined from what we descry<br>Behind the butterfly paced clouds? <br>Because the darkness is in great ply<br>To lust us, their favorite crowd</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shear these turgid canopies<br>Of your self-incarceration<br>To find the void serendipity<br>Wrought by your imposed convictions<br>And the impassable and ineffable potency<br>Of the lambent veer in your emancipation<br>In these bassinet of contained mêlée<br>We drive our own abolition</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=471552" data-title="The Bassinet de Norman Santos" data-description="Amidst the numberless aplomb soughs Of these gaunt trees' deciduous And supercilious burlesque show I don myself with pertinacious Diffidence to a grin or moue Clad only with apathy for my bruise And torment for every woe The only way I can call..."></div> </div> </div>

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