A Bard's Song To The Pensive Canaries
Hiding in the floor
of a bottomless ocean
I watched bubbles scampered
to meet the climbing dithers
of light in this abyss
And muse alone I did
while the limpid limbs continually
oust the life it possessed
and the cage of feral memories
shattered from the inner tyranny
The flustered world
caromed in a wistful ballet
while my breaking bones played
the esoteric melody and
everything under this
pirouetting parasol was just
a defunct music box
playing songs - tinkering violins
and effaced harmonicas,
inveigling the canaries
and their trepidation to fly,
carrying on with their
their genial metronome
Dance, like a wallflower
riveted amongst the shadows
of your cobwebbed chandelier,
my own tersely plea reckoned
And my lifeless body
wrecked even more
As the charade engulfs my hymns,
lecherous malcontent filled
the empty crevasses,
the saudade effulgence
descried the terrorizing desires
to kneel before the nights
that sundered our parsimony
And for all the lonely silhouettes
still enthused to break with me -
in flight or in plight -
I offer my percussive endeavors
to debilitate our forged camaraderie
in the insularity of our myriad
sundered predicaments,
this wordless song that falls
like star in a fecundated supernova
is the water that shall baptize
our rebirth from our plethora of deaths,
a candle on our tilled grave.
poem by Norman Santos
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Saudade
After dark the forthrightly silence
enshrouds the soul's trepidation
and the sartorial revelry of your
undying memories collect themselves
like the moonshine on the phosphorescent shore
The saudade melancholy inveigles
moths into the feral dance of flames
and as the malignant light becomes
my asylum and pantheon, I stagger
for the sparrow chance of corrupting
the ebbing of the ocean's moiré
where the solitary light is doubled
in its deluded reflections
And in this vacant room, the moon
spills empty words and cacophonies
its gravid and ashen cheeks morphs
into an empty page where the words
dissipates into ephemeral liminalities
poem by Norman Santos
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Wall Engulfed By Shy Flowers
There is a rendezvous with flamboyance -
a stillness gilded by the peace of detachment
as tacit as the uncurling of moonflowers
when the night sprawls on her divan
and raises her goblet to the distant stars -
and he alone, in his howling dungeons, can
usurp the esoteric grandiosity in malcontent
Everything is intimate and close
in the sterile skin of your vulnerability -
the drifting autumn wind, the lifted eyelids,
the dancing lips, the glaring waltzing feet
But in your soliloquy - unraveling threads
that strangulates your recuperating breaths,
your swallowed words raving in the dark
fanning the embers of your glassy heart
the spurious tides of the oceans crash
into a lull amidst your redundant tremors
and everything sink into the unfathomable
There is an agog pleasure basking in
the immensity of monastic pendulums, whilst
the world gyrated in blurs and drifting lights
where the perfume of bliss passes above
the stagnant wind sculling our little breaths
the montage reels in the infinitesimal gilts
elsewhere held from the malingerers
There is an effulgent hymn immersed deep
in the cacophony of the world's manifold rhythms
like cathedral bells trembling from the hollows
that echoed through the gold insularity,
like a siren scintillating in the furnace of the sea
a charade, a riddle, born by loquacious maladies
When the pastels are pillaged to a halt,
when the only judge is the frost and fog,
when solace is the thief of the endless night,
he indulges into a dance and a song -
A fire burns underneath his sole and
a lilt titillates from his lifted susurrations
and reticence was eroding with the embers
whilst loneliness burns like red roses
and the web of bridges suspended above
The clockwork salutes fell unbeknownst
into a bottomless ocean of rigmaroles unto
the fusillade of your silence - a salient armada,
a sentry amidst the collapsing of confusion,
a terse bridge that burns with inner caliginosity,
a bulwark adamant wall that makes no echoes,
a flower awakening in the oppression of sleep;
Because your bland insinuation is more colossal
than the petulant beauty of many garden larcenies
The reticence you wore like paper petals are frail
vanguards that hones your puissant indifference -
Play along the farce, come soundless like a thief,
lean on your citadels, dance with the shadows
riveted on your walls and cringe only to intensify
the grandiosity of your gray shabby heavens;
Wallflower, sing. Wallflower, dance,
Wallflower, cringe. Wallflower writhe.
poem by Norman Santos
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Bestiary
The bestiary ruminates
with feline stalking
and vulpine calculations
and in the gallows
of this machine's lasso
I seek for garrison
Like a den
for the famished ponderings
and slavering propositions
Like a cage,
for the leonine trepidation
and the myriad of souls
adrift in unconsciousness
These words surfacing
the abysmal void of the paper -
footmarks of an transient paw
riveted in a stupor
under the salient verdigris
of the softest putrefaction
The perfidious sibilance
slithers in the crevasses
and the vulturine ululations
trampled inside the chamber
The bestiary is inside
the heart of this machination
like a den, like a cage
protecting the frangibility
from its own brittle bones
poem by Norman Santos
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Music (The Song)
It plays to my heartstrings...
It is the music to my ears-
...It is the tender love song of my life-
And the refelections of my years...
All in a simple sweet melody-
...The rhythm and harmony flow-
Yes, dancing at my heartstrings-
...The memories, they come and they go...
It is the music of my lifetime-
...It is the gentle refrain, in my head-
'A play it to my soul song'
...Down the road of love-
...I am led...
It is a once, in a lifetime song-
...Forever growing, it is, in me-
It is, a broken heart tune-
...And a haunting melody...
It is the songs of our Nation-
...The Anthems and Hymns...
It is the: 'Glory to the World My Friend, ' song-
...That has become, way too dim...
It is the 'Light of My Life' ballad-
...In perfect melodic harmony-
It is the say it all: 'With Words and Music'
...It is the Best that Music Can Be...
poem by Theodora Onken
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Memento
Vertiginously suspended
in my own voracious web,
forage for the silver thread
and find my soul ensnared
and feeding on regrets
Watch my endeavors
metamorphose into a ghost
inside my labyrinthine maps
as I chase the frontier
of the impassable night
and beg to remain undiscovered
under the generous screen
of her jet black locks
defensive and afraid
Sing with my tuned laments
the maddening madhouse of
holiness and obsession
and infuse your own delusion,
Concoct the perfect limbo
that will bear oblivion
and dance along into
my farce tempo
Listen to the sound of
my broken simpers,
my defunct synapses and
my furrowed whispers -
the paradoxical morphing of
my make-believe indifference,
my sedative ebullience
Unwove me with utmost care
Bask under my parasol
the dislimning weather
and abating wanderlust
like a flustered vicissitude
molting skins forever but
never ending for what
had already begun
Like a formless soul
and a dazed sunset
I have nothing grand
like a footprint ashore
constantly washed away
by the leonine water
Muse upon my reflection
ensconced in myriad failures
my memento is a lonely man
painted in vexation from
what went wrong and
who he had become.
poem by Norman Santos
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Broken Constellations
Days stretched
but its light kept waning
until the pallor is the same
with a dead star's flame -
a prostrate miasma
of saudade iridescence
that only divulges
in beleaguered musings
and I wonder
if I am the only one
who can see its gossamer fractions
and the only one inveigled
by its fecundated vacuum
Somewhere,
in this prostrate flummox
of a fulminating constellation
our eyes opened
into different horizons
Your furtive vision
basked in the quiescence
of star-spangled oceans
measuring its depth
and usurping the reflection
and the resplendence of this
emporium of modest afflictions
stifles the echolalia
of a quasar's scream
I remain suspended
steadfast to my ponderous insularity
played by godly tethers
of delinquent abandons
stifling with frantic inflections
as the doors of the galaxies
revolved in a riveted motion
and in this eternal frame
of constant recuperation
from constant withering
you are ubiquitous amongst
the broken constellations
The universe wouldn't halt
for our subtle rupture
but the fusillade rages on
while you resigned into your aurora
and a bereavement ailed
cicatrizing with the superfluity
of my blackholes' etudes.
poem by Norman Santos
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Home Alone
I watched time crumble
On the brick floor's slumber
From its fated machinism
And the pallid light of summer
Leaning wearily on the walls
Escaped the frosted windows
With a somnolent opalescence
A wan and aimless escapade,
Such a dreamy afternoon
Where life pounces keeling out
Of gravity and vibrant hues
A slumbering dog, poignant from
The absence of barks and bones
An empty set of walls
Once a place called home
The house swooned over
From its winding knee
And struggling loop of
Tightrope heraldries,
Like the collapse of lungs
As a breath of verve escapes and
Heaves back with a titanic space
To accentuate the hollow break,
Topple and restore, filling emptiness
Without making a sound,
Without any motion, but
The absence of the souls
That became its constitutions
Floods the vivid light with gloom
And the summer is contained
Within a wintry solitude inside
The lone yearning bones
The curtains unruffled,
The floor spread wider,
The ceiling climbed loftier,
And the saudade croons
Played in the air waves
With laughs and simpers
Tinkering the static
And in this chamber,
For now, I'm home alone
Yet, soon, this place
Would be abandoned
By my trifle entity and
The company of my soliloquy
But not of my yearning
And shadows and shards
And lone feeling in the solitariness
That makes this place a home.
poem by Norman Santos
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Wallflower
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
Im sad and lonely too.
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
Im fallin in love with you.
Just like you Im wondrin what Im doin here.
Just like you Im wondrin whats goin on.
Wallflower, wallflower
Wont you dance with me?
The night will soon be gone.
I have seen you standing in the smoky haze
And I know that youre gonna be mine one of these days,
Mine alone.
Wallflower, wallflower
Take a chance on me.
Please let me ride you home.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Piper And The Prey
this is how friday ended
a little bit hard to believe
my perception slightly bending
as the piper came on the scene
it was something so hypnotic
the music even changed
the crowd got up and got chaotic
and they paid so they could play
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough
at first, the dance was hesitant
not long before everyone knew it
the music spun them 'round and 'round
then it pulled the dancers into it
i danced my dance at my own pace
he laughed, knowing i would change
it took all i had in so many ways
saw others dance until they fell on their face
and still the piper played...
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs to make them crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs down in their blood
songs that take, steal the love
until the song has had enough
bodies on the floor
unconscious and awake
the piper gave them more;
they took all that he gave
he played a new illusion
while the world began to sway
the dance became delusion
our hearts became the prey
and i danced as he played
and i danced as he pushed
songs that made me crave
songs that seemed so good
songs that made it easier
songs went down in my blood
songs that took, stole all the love
until the song had used them up
until that song had had enough
saturday was forgotten
by closing out the early sun rays
many dancers have fallen
lost, forgotten, thrown away
the music was their everything
but again they stayed to late
the song kept them spinning
dancing into a darker place
giving in without hesitance
hypnotized by the pipe's melody
until all became the song and dance
the piper was the only one to play
the piper and the song had demands
but they'd nothing left to give away
all that was left was the pipe's trance
and the dancer became the slave
the pied piper played
the pied piper pushed
songs that betrayed
songs not to trust
songs that got heavier
songs itching in their blood
songs that demand the dance
until the song has had enough
that was how sunday ended
and it took several years
now the song gets in my head
and sometimes brings me to tears
now i chose to stand so still
not to give in to what i hear
the song can not destroy my will
the song has nothing left i fear
(2008 & 2010, new orleans, la, usa)
poem by Thomas Quentin Sims
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Life Is About Ballet Dancing In The Candle Light
You raise your arms high
You twirl and twist on your toes
You heave it back in towards you all the time
You slowly turn it about
You dance for contentment and pleasure till the candle blows out
You Dip it under and pull it back up
A slow beat with harmonizing violins
You can feel the rhythm all the time
A calm music in the background if your ears tolerate
you dance for determination and fortitude till the candle blows out
You lean it back and forth
Into a harmonizing melody
just close your eyes and bend over it
As you enthrall memory
You dance for hope and optimism till the candle blows out
The music slows a little
And you draw it closer to your chest
You make impressive leap into the air
It makes your heart pound with anticipation
You dance for laughter and applause till the candle blows out
You spring off the floor
You appear to pause in air
floating in the position of the split
It makes you glide along the floor
You dance for purpose and courage till the candle blows out
You dance on feet
You take all pain and sufferings
You jump and bow gracefully
fill your smile with enchantment
you dance for goodness and virtue till the candle blows out
poem by Dr Shamim ali
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The Song and The Lyric
Jerry felt the music deep within his soul.
Music that echoed through the ages
Music of the human experience
Painful and beautiful
He did not know how to give it a voice.
He could sing, and he learned to play.
Songs that knitted together threads of time
While creating and playing songs
He heard his inner music
And his quest for the perfect song began
He shared his love of music
With a few special people
Who also had songs within their souls
But only a few understood his passion
And no one understood his quest
Until he met his accompaniment
Who also wrote songs
Together they created music
And the music in Jerry’s soul adapted
To the melody of their lives together
Their melody had distinct rhythm
Echoing a famous love song
Adante or allegro the tempo
Reflecting the wonders of life
And the pain of humanity
But their melody remained unfinished
Until their greatest collaboration
Came into the world
Now their melody had a consonance
Their song now had its Lyric.
poem by Stephanie Eve Kane Arado
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Killing Unfrothrightly
The engulfing woes
emerging from the screams
that I incarcerated inside
my tacit den of iniquity
grew hands that knew
how to hold daggers
and tersely assassinate
the penetralium of
my frayed struggles with faith
The staid cries whetted
the hapless echoing
of our flamboyant talks
and our flustered endeavors
until the sounds disintegrate
from songs to homophones
and the frames lost
the lacquered photographs
and cradled the many colors
that nostalgia spews
The battle came storming
with sanguinary shades
but I will not fight,
for I cannot fight,
the angry tides collapsing
on the frail monument
of our intermingling shadows
breaking against the lashes
with forthrightly wounds
and deep lacerations
on it stone-flesh.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Ballroom-A Pantoum
'And gilded couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since.'
-Sylvia Plath, 'Cinderella'
The orchestra begins a new melody.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part.
Guests sip white wine and champagne, and
scores of couples begin to dance.
The crystal chandelier dims; red velvet curtains part
as the violins and cellos play their song.
Scores of couples begin to dance:
Men in tuxedoes, and ladies in scarlet gowns.
As the violins and cellos play their song,
dancers twirl on the white marble floor.
Men in tuxedoes and ladies in scarlet gowns
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
Dancers twirl on the white marble floor;
guests sip white wine and champagne and
fill the grand palace hall with applause.
The orchestra begins a new melody.
poem by Kimberly Kastner
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A Web of Bridges
The moon broods upon her phosphors
and wove her lasso to concatenate
the sundered dispositions basked indulgently
on the filths of self-desolating defeat
and in her reflection upon the moiré undulations
I confabulated with my own flamboyant charade
inside the shallow shelves of this den
where saints knelt before burning bridges
gnarled in a prayer for vindication - I am a gargoyle
scornful and bemused upon the illusion
deferentially succumbing to a feigned oblivion
The latticing shadows of the bridges
overlaps in a consummate web of darkness
where I caught myself in the juxtaposition
of the squalid morose in our superfluous transitions
waiting for the monarchial jeopardy
while the pillars wobbled and toppled
leaving me in the taciturn propinquity
of absolute confusion, deterred absolution,
and there upon the shadows' grave
and the flickering of a kindled flame
I knew better than to make a wish
upon a star's failingly bereaved trail
Lonelier than alone, darker than the night
crystalline pangs of glacial demise gnawing
upon the prancing fountain in your very eyes
not a song have sang, not an eye had bat
fort the mishap flummoxing of the aeons
and the conduit of our tacit realms
As I stood on a collapsing bridge
it will be no better talking to the sea
so I break upon this fall -
just breaking for never more.
poem by Norman Santos
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Charade
Some nights we made our love in the sand
And at the tide we held our love in our hands
And we listened to music the ocean was playing
The words that our two hearts were saying
That only two lovers can make
Let us ride on the wind while this moment is real
Your the light of my life
You are welcome to my Charade
And this felling knowing you blessed me forever
And believing I have been touch by your love
And the pleasure of knowing the evening won't tare us apart
We can follow the sun to the day light is gone
We can gaze up the sky till the night is over
Light of my life
You are welcome to my Charade
And this felling knowing you blessed me forever
We can follow the sun to the day light is gone
We can gaze at the sky till the night is over
Light of my life
You are welcome to my Charade
And this feeling knowing you blassed me forever
We can follow the sun to the day light is gone
We can gaze at the sky till the night is over
Light of my life
You are welcome to my Charade..........
song performed by by Bee Gees from Mr. Natural
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baptize My Soul
Written by anastacia newkirk - evan rogers - carl sturken
You baptize my soul
Want the world to know
Yes you do
You baptize my soul
Gotta let it show
Take me to the river and deliver me
Oooooh ooh
I just wanna celebrate another day with you
We were meant to be together, dont you know its true?
From the very start, you captured my heart
Sometimes I wonder what I did before we came along
Until you came around and sang me such a pretty song
Like a butterfly, opened up and changed my life
Giving in to you is something that I cant deny
Oooooh
You (you) baptize my soul
I want the world to know
You manifest the d in destiny
(yes you do)
I said you (you) baptize my soul
Gotta let it show
Take me to the river and deliver me
Just take this empty heart, make it whole
You baptize my soul
Just the sound of your voice brings out the romance in me
The slightest touch of your hand plays me like a symphony
Lovell take us far, like a shooting star
We dont pay no mind to all the things that people say
The only thing that matters is the love weve got today
Its a miracle, were invinsible
I just wanna spend my whole life living in your world
Oooooh
You (you) baptize my soul
I want the world to know
You manifest the d in destiny
(yes you do)
I said you (you) baptize my soul
Gotta let it show
Take me to the river and deliver me
Take this empty heart, make it whole
You baptize my soul
You (you) baptize my soul
I want the world to know
You manifest the d in destiny
(yes you do)
I said you (you) baptize my soul
Gotta let it show
Take me to the river and deliver me
And take this empty heart, make it whole
You baptize my soul
I dont care what people say
What we got is here to stay
Doesnt matter what we do
As long as I am here with you
If you wonder what I mean
Its more simple than it seems
Together we were meant to be
Forever it is you and me
Like a butterfly
Opened up my life
Giving in to you is something
That I cant deny
You (you) baptize my soul
I want the world to know
You manifest the d in destiny
(yes you do)
I said you (you) baptize my soul
Gotta let it show
Take me to the river and deliver me
And take this empty heart, make it whole
You baptize my soul
You baptize my soul
I want the world to know
song performed by by Anastacia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trapeze
Hold tightly into that wry
And sway with the lackadaisical whine
Of the elegiac ballad of saudade nights;
Lash those daunted toes
And slice the pertinacious heaven
With your steely legs;
And the sky would shut its eyes
As her ropy hair lets down undulation
Entangled in a bar clasping
Your own knotted fingers.
The feculent maggots would break
Their neck to muse your flight
And careen below to laugh
At your shattering cranium
When your blood gushed with
The girdles of trepidation.
Enthuse the moon's vision
As you rise staggering,
Violently bleeding,
Bones prattling to sing,
And you would swing again
Engulfing the pendulums
And its obsequious lies.
For you are strongest
When you are restless
Flaccid, like how the heart is
Stern in the fissures
Of a ruptured trapeze act.
poem by Norman Santos
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Lonely.
Lonely on the land I walk
Lonely are the nights
Lonely are the days
Lonely and empty.
A lonely star in the night sky
Alone in the walks of life
A lonely day
A lonely tear falls down.
I am lonely and I am scared
Only one star graces the blue sky
As lonely as me.
Hold my hand.
I feel lonely, very lonely.
Marisa Taylor
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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Darrel
On his shoulder
are the weight of his struggles,
his prostrate grief,
and esoteric quintessence;
the impending doom
that defeat riveted
On his hands
are burns from cigarettes,
an empty bottle
and everything else
lifeless and afraid
On his eyes
are shut persiennes
veiling the shadows that
love has casted
and its silver web
of emptiness
On his brittle bones
shivers the abhorrence
for ephemeral amities
and its affinity
which is the love
for weak beacons leaning
on tired sunsets
He traversed skylines
like arrows assailed
to the stygian flames
and to get out of his track
is a distraction from
the eternal malaise
that he is trying to chase
and escape all the same
He counted little deaths
and little details -
like felled petals,
and lambent sighs;
like the sequins
and tears evocated
Darrel was not his name,
because his existence
is but a fallen grain
in the hour glass -
he was jeopardized
a beau not,
a confidant not,
a wise not,
a luxury not,
a poet not,
but he was an eternal child
who knows not
but the home built
with monoliths
from scoured grace
And to be given
a home with walls,
frail constitutions,
a hearth for warmth
where nobody
had a name
despite myriad of
regrets and failures
that a man wouldn't
even surmise
was a splendid bliss
for Darrel
and Darrel
was his name.
poem by Norman Santos
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When You Resigned To Sleep
The canopies of your eyes fluttered
like curtains from your windows
as you watched the stars dripped
into a paler rhythm of fandango
with sweet waves of riddance
to the gentle mirth of your goodnight
They tarried on their way
like tears refusing to fall
but they cannot suspend the transience
riveted in your jet black eyes
and the ephemeral caprice it beholds
You watched them as they are -
inexorably felled scintillating stars
and the pain belying their crowns
charred their endeavors, marred their hopes
from your unrequited remorse
Do you repulse the black holes
that siphoned their gravity?
Do you wonder where they roam
when they wander from your galaxies?
These danseuse chandelier tinkering
their insides to inveigle a trifle
of your attention and attraction
ponder for you vaporous musing
that absently asphyxiates the air
Whilst I watched you from your window,
your bony penetralium and your
bereaved lambent smile masquerading
like the tersely open moon tonight
The maps in the palm of your hands
and your labyrinthine gaze,
I wonder if they remember,
I wonder if they feel the same
I wonder at your pensive shudders;
if you are still skeptic and afraid
or had your gargoyle flesh grew excited
for the patina of hope and verve
Perhaps you have meander too far,
in false-exactitudes of altitudes
with the strong wind under your wings,
that I needed to watch you from here
Obviously and regardless,
I still wonder and malinger
to the night when you resigned
into your forgetful sleep
My pensive friend, if you shall dream again
I shall be watching you from here
until the waters lambaste to restore
the frail bridges of our incarcerations
poem by Norman Santos
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