Brothers in a Glasshouse
The silhouettes of many yesterdays
Floundered through the silent walls
Recounting how we roam these branches
Trespassing unnumbered rooms,
Filleting riddles from the harlequin moon,
Fishing through salient oceans,
Meandering with a pensive nonchalance
Like kings in a pompous parade
Bounded by a golden chain
And shorn by vindictive asymmetries
But days fluttered without transition
We molted from the visage of our reflections
With gauche arrogance pouncing
From the tethers of this glasshouse
Sending mordant shudders on its frangibility
Whilst wrathful malcontent is forged from
The angrily hissing flames of distraught
Ricocheting like bullets mangling
Through the cavernous but elusive vault,
Your invitation still echoes through
The circles of these soliloquy
Like a labyrinthine hall ornately
Shuffled to hide the deepest room
Where the moon is such a vision
In a lake of sleeping mirrors
How did this home burned down
Tarnishing our pristine reflections?
Our star-crossed visions bloated
From breathing under water;
Your nonplussed departure
Left blithely like a climate
Invited by an aubade
But why do you have to leave
This detrimental thunderstorms
Of shattered mirrors, memoirs, behind
Prancing for the wretchedness
Of my stirred penetralium?
I lived in these desolate waltz
Like a bard without a song
Wandering for your lost suppuration
And escaping from the serrations
Lashed by your inclement after-thought
I cussed at every mock you scorn
And futilely waited for a faceless
Answer to writhe the defiance
Aggravated by these mocking mirrors
And their livid insinuations
Tinkering the garish light
That once honed your immense shadow
I stood across the line you drew -
A felled brother, a dogged contender
Frantic over these myopia
Inside the halls of eyes in plethora;
My own casted downwards, I capitulated
To the stupor of my demented legs
Shattering through the savageness
Wrought for a frenzied defense
I ran away from your pointing finger
Sloshing through the blood
Dripping from the sliver stabbed on my back
Hoping to come across that person
That I once knew and held
Eyes sleeping like a mirror
Brimming with an invitation
In this glasshouse where we used to meander
Eating fire and drinking water
Walking through the thawing ice
Placidly on our plaintive eyes
How can we not see better
Of our own reflection - bloodstained
And savage in the leathery veneer
Safeguarding the brittle bones
Gnawed to the deepest dungeon
Where the clandestine volitions ruptured
Festooned by treacherous conflagrations
I shrugged my encumbered shoulders
And lunged for the rock bottom
In the proximity of demise
And the woman that gave birth to it
I heard the bloodhounds bark
Ravaging at the strand of solace
That willowed like your final sigh
I saw them slavering, whetting fangs
Roused by a menacing hedonism
I let them trace the scent of my wretchedness
As I knelt to my last prayer
And waved too many goodbyes
To a brother incarcerated
Inside a deluded glasshouse.
poem by Norman Santos
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Obstinacy and Malcontent
Livid and delusional,
Haplessly obdurate,
Like these smoke and mirrors
Distorting the visage of hope
And faith in prayers sent forth
Whilst the coruscations of the past
Inveigles the doom in these eyes
And I exhumed myself alone
In declining my liberation
This obstinacy and malcontent
Deluges with the brine of blood
From angry vessels rooted
And gnarled in the dark corners
Of the cobwebbed heart
Because in this pawned life
Where satisfaction is a drug
To forget the querulous vertex
(To be complete not only in the dark)
The coup-de-grace was a dejection
An unspoken unfaithfulness
That devoured the flame
And the verdigris of the soul
Disemboguing everything
Until the only resolve for pain
Is the sedation in a greater pain;
A wrath that defends
This obstinacy and malcontent
That was once acknowledged
And fortified with sympathy
The resentment of the light
Dislimned the mirror in these eyes
And exhausted the smoky screen
To unfurl that the dark
Had always been underneath
These placidly asleep canopies
Now how do I rectify my truth?
Like these smoke and mirrors
I hid inside myself, unscathed
Groveling for a final clout
So I can shatter into dusts
And finally disappear
In my absolution.
poem by Norman Santos
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Mirror Here Mirror There
Mirror in this hall shows what I hate most of all
In the bath shows me where I fall
At twelve shows me where I stand tall
Yet it shows a short standing of all
To the mirror in my left and right
Shows what disgusts thy life
When most others fall to the mirrors walls
But thy stand to fall and look in the mirrors halls
Thy tremble down these mirrors halls
To were the mirror shows were I shall fall
Then leave my mirror on the darken wall
To show another soul where to fall
Then leave their mirror in another gleaming hall
poem by Nick Trager
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Weak Beacons
The sunset of November leaned against
The propinquity of a hostile defense
And a yearning for all the suspended tears
Channeling from a cloyed and battered heart
Its alloyed blood rushed with a vexation
That molted daggers of vengeance
Unyielding to the farce world of stones
But in the illustrious night, the bones quivered
And rattled like the austere pebbles
Carrying our impeding lamentations
Somewhere, the red sun's beam engulfed
A drab bud uncurling its ancient wishes
Left unheard as the pollens shook away
Like dusts waning from the sun's graze
Whilst a flower withered to decadence
As its corolla expanded into a circle
Touching each other and coming closer
To the juxtaposition of life and death
A demise swayed like a pendulum
Refraining from the vulnerability
That was only stropped by the sibilance
Of this groveling paroxysm
The sun vying against its inertia
Gilded by a robust flame spat unto
The very leprous infection of the soul
And in these abundant transitions -
An asylum of metamorphosing cycle
I caught my own reflection in yours
Crying underneath the provoked wails
Scraping the veneer of a faithful heart
And wallowing a forward tongue
The hurtling of spear-like words
Gilded by the coruscations of what was
Stabbed like daggers on the back
Yet we feel the same, even hone the same wrath
Against all this oppressive games
And we are the same in different suits
Sleeping on different nights
Festooned by different vulturine cries
And penumbras of a lunar dime
I caught my bleared reflection -
Incarcerated inside a person I never knew
Gorging in the stale banquets of rues
Wearing shoes like a felled star
Running towards a lost future
Eyes riveted in a cold cellar
Of the dark pathos of the past
The gloaming spread its arms
And embraced the dying whims
As far as November can be
We sighed what we thought our final sighs
Like brothers in a call to incongruent arms -
Like weak beacons once aloft now toppled
And said good night to our dissimilar demise
I said good night to our different indifference
And embraced my sundered dusk
Coiling for an honest good night.
poem by Norman Santos
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Bestiary Cages
Weary was the divergence of feathers and cries
Shaking the same tree and acquainting with
Different mendacities and atrocities
A fell star stripped its ever gnashing light
To sedulously inveigle the lost and astray
A red chamber left vacant and open
Crumbled with a vile miscalculation
And the forest stared at the battling sky
Its canopies were a parasol, but the weather
Was hoarding beasts from the inside
The night of the hunter sauntered a wintry stride:
The beetle moon remained hard with iridescence
That the metallic armor beholds with imposition,
The filigree of vulturine fowls encircled the vale
Where you slept turgidly like a defenseless child,
The febrile roar that inflames the broad throat
Underneath of the mountain lion's crown dissolved,
A coyote licked the taste of patina in his wound
And cried to amnesia without remorse
The chaise of meandering paws and flapping wings
Interpolated with the blades of grass and seeing pebbles
Disturbing the quietude and rousing the savageness
That slept inside the diamond sharp penetralium
And savageness, and wretchedness, and wicked resolutions
Howl to the starlight's hapless steerage to hearken
The ever sinking whetting of blades and bloodlust
And awaken was the sleeping wrath and defiance
To perish in hungry hands, to grit and be selfish
As the night shook its giddy branches and drop
A dying leaf, a rotting fruit, a lost perchance.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Ruse of the Pink Flamingo
My eyes swan through the sunward sand
Falling with the summer rain and the mist
That shrouds the haled halcyon raiment
Like a gray nostalgia unfenced but tamed
By an inclement drizzle, and here I am
Breathing with the moiré banana leaves
There was a stillness - a vertical line
Erected in the lugubrious susurrations
A silver thread fixed with the marionette
Wistfully frolicking in the aqueous mirror
And sending undulations without a sound
The enthralling artistry was my muse
In this void ulcer of the land, a pink blotch
In the postmortem dirge of savagery
My eyes swan through her wayward dance
The weathervane utterance of the wind
Spoke of the silence's response
To the dipping of her svelte legs
Into the unwavering poise of the pond
And its ageless skin rippled with subtlety
That the sun casted a shower of yellow light
Borne into the dawn of shriveling moths
Upon the mirroring of your charming grace
The tilting legs raised and lunged like a danseuse
With an undertone of vengeance but swathed
With the tired hoping for vindication
And with every mellifluous lift and sway
Was a hint of hope for another day
She careened her head into the dusk
And pivoted her salutary statuesque
Dancing for the reflection and the song
Of the trespassing swallows and storks
Titivating the chasing of the crimson dome
And becoming the ebullient light of the void
But the song will sojourn with the season
Of your gossamer inflection of carnation
It withers like the petals on your waist
And the amusement of your own reflection
Until then, who do you dance for?
The machinations of the elegiac song
Strummed by the plethora of leaves
And ornamented by the astray petals
Played with the willowy dancing feet
And this ruse held her in the oscillating waist
And manipulated her pensive ballet
But when the fix is pilfered
Who will you dance for?
poem by Norman Santos
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Naked Eye
You can come inside
Come into the naked eye
My only world falls in again
I see your face fall in again
Its so dark
I dont know your name
Its so dark
And I dont know your name
Only mirrors lie only mirrors lie now
Only mirrors lie only mirrors lie now
Through the needles eye
Through the needles eye now
Only mirrors lie
Lie lie
You can come inside
Come into the naked eye
Naked
Naked
I feel so high
Going up on the wall
And youre down below me
Look all around look all around now
Look all around look all around now
Only mirrors lie only mirrors lie now
Only mirrors lie only mirrors lie now
Through the needles eye
Through the needles eye now
Only mirrors lie
Lie lie
You can come inside
Come into the naked eye
Naked
Naked
Just wanted a special view
Just me and you
Just just just the two of us
Just two of us
Going up on the wall
Up on the wall
Going up on the wall
Up on the wall
Naked eye naked eye
What do you see
And whats there to learn
Reading your books
Third diagram
Someones in the room down below
Someone someone
Someone below
Insects
Cherries
To the cherries
On the wall
Spider
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harlequin
(brooker / reid)
Harlequin has lost his crown
Look they say a broken clown
Yesterday he ruled the world
Now hes crying to be heard
Yesterday he called the tune
Now hes howling at the moon
Harlequin has broken down
Harlequin, harlequin has lost his crown
Harlequin has broken loose
Slipped the knot and skipped the noose
Can those bloodhounds find his trail
Will they send him back to jail
Can those bloodhounds find his scent
Will they find out where he went
Harlequin cannot be found
Harlequin, harlequin has gone to ground
Break
Harlequin is back on top
Now his fame will never stop
See him shown from coast to coast
Hes the one they love the most
See them slap him on the back
How they love his every crack
Harlequin we knew youd do it
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
Harlequin, harlequin
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Diamond's Penetralium
Exhumed from the pantheon of the earth -
A sleeping heart, a hollow chamber,
A bile masquerading glint of hope
Wake up your visions to rise and come
Walking through this supercilious fire
Of aborted hell and become the blue ether
That will beckon the lost suppurations.
Connive with the edging teeth contumely
And with the sibilance of your silent hissing
Needle the fringe of life, your garish light
Will burst like a quasar's birth and you
Will unfurl that inside your lackluster
And grating and exalting: forever resides forever
With down cast eyes we will linger
In the slithering roads of forgetting,
Of remembering and resisting going back
And we will find a star crossed path
Where a dazing dot, a speck, an orb
Of gregarious light stood quivering
And inveigling with undaunted wisps
Of complacent gambling, and our hopes
Will collide to find the gaps fitting
With our profound demands and yearning.
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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Sunset Pedagogies I
A perilous chime swooned over me
As the ghastly smoke part your lips
Along with adamant words that shook
The golden manacles coiled under our feet
And the rivers that you poured deluged
To part this parceled ground but you
Are now swimming towards a shore
Whilst I remained here waiting futilely
Without any hopes or dreams at all
And while our souls wander far
We remain moored into this cloud
Where we sat to watch the dusk
Bounce endlessly in the empty horizon
Until the poetic pillars sank in the sand
And the mirrors were mantled by a pall
To save the gilded smile from shattering
The life in you incinerated high and
The sky above us were pacific and immense
But the oil drowning my eyes
Incarcerated our burning sunset
And the perilous serenading of the sirens
Took you away and you transcended far
Past the memories of collapsing stars
And I promised myself to never again
Walk naked inside a mirror house.
poem by Norman Santos
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Emaciated Shadow
The sun ballasted searing aloft
And the emollient equinox escalated
The taunting ladder of schism
Upon the bequeathed garden
And, startled, everyone erected
Shifting legs and reloading guns
Never realizing the core of the brunt
Each one, feigning to be the only begotten son
Naked are the clandestine hedonists,
Clad in silk are the quaint sybarites,
And the ignorant martyrs were repelled
Into the flueret floors of the chasm
Where the light deemed barricaded
From reckoning the mantling shade
Meanwhile, the shadows were casted
Upon the vexed and judged ones
I mused on the cantankerous catastrophe
As the others transgressed in hubris
From the sycophancy of their shadows,
Dishabille in the mistral dearth of light,
Or perhaps, the dense veneer of darkness
To incarcerate the squalid phantoms
Inhospitably emancipated from the erratic
Flight of the aeon's shoddy orifice
While I pry and veer from side to side
Languidly probing for the stoic incarnation
Of my fears in the faceless silhouettes
The stoic scant of my void frame
Of two layers: stick and stone,
Was caught in the fangs of chagrin
Illuminating that I have but a single line;
A taut string of a shadow
Whilst the other's loom loftier
Than their own lambasted carcasses
Mine was a sole stroke of graze
Of Apollo's superfluous blade
My vessel was, perhaps, beleaguered
By an emancipation more profound
Than the ineptitude of the bassinet
Of carrions and amorphous crows
For I have been breathing whilst regurgitating
The gift, or curse, of Mnemosyne
And the iron mask may be scathed
But it was wedged in a profound depth
And the cicatrix is not dabbed with hoping
Rather, in a plethora of fear and repression
I had bled with all the sorrow
I had lived a vociferous shadow
And this is not aggrandizing the tales
Of my consummated defeat
And there is no exoneration
In the heraldry of shadows
For in the final grains of sandman
I have only awoken to find
That I have been sleeping awake
And when the sun bursts, I had gone first.
poem by Norman Santos
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Smoke And Mirrors
When I was a boy all the books I read
I followed like a blind man
To heed the words my father said
Those golden summers fade into night, words become a dream
The echoes of my childhood and where the path is winding
May God bless you, keep you safe from all harm
I stand by you always
Time and motion hands touch
Lips find a way to heaven on high
Watch the children play, the child becomes a man
And all the tangled webs we weave
You swear it as we live and breath
We stay together death until you part
Winner takes the prize
The futures at your finger tips, right before your eyes
No more sorrow (smoke and mirrors)
No more nights with no end
(I really learned a lot, smoke and mirrors)
I see my tomorrows
And nothing from nothing
And ashes to ashes they say
All the more that you reach out
The more that it runs away
(Smoke and mirrors)
No more goodbyes
(Thats all I ever got, smoke and mirrors)
No lies, you find your way there
(She show me what shes got, smoke and mirrors)
Heaven on high
May god bless you keep you safe from all harm
I stand by you always
Time and motion
(smoke and mirrors)
Hands touch, lips find a way to
(Thats all I ever got, smoke and mirrors)
Heaven on high
No more sorrow
(I really learned a lot, smoke and mirrors)
No more nights with no end
(She show me what shes got, smoke and mirrors)
I rise or I fall
no more goodbyes
(She really makes me hot, smoke and mirrors)
No lies, you find a way there
Heaven on high
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Meandering Lion
Latch the doors,
I want to meander
With flaming feet
Of an opulent lion
Inside my prattling veins
And in the currents
Of your thunders
If you can see them
In the condoles of the scars
And in the knot of my temples.
Let the arrows strike
With vengeance and repugnance
They do not have the heart
Of gilded susurrations,
They can nick my tawny suit
But never touch the soul
Basking in the prowls
Of a protracted and brazen
Glissando.
Stay, inside my forlorn forest
If you can endure the enigma
And if you can wrangle
With the lashing of
My violent yet pliant chains,
Not of lightning,
But of infinity
In the farcical veneer
Of the moon-kissed eaves
Dispensing all amiable jewelries
Into the sea
Of drudgery.
Hear me feign a tongue-tied roar
And rip myself with electric tongues,
Corrupt these eyes of a child
As I pretend to scamper the wiles
Of the labyrinthine riddles;
I am who I am,
A perplex cacophony,
And the dissonance of the desires
To be heard while whispering
A clandestine interpolation.
Leave and shun the scintillations
Of the lackluster stars
That would remind me
Of you and your lucidity
And wedging distraught,
And of being one amongst
These far-flung constellations.
If you cannot give me
A lion soul,
Stay away and permit me
To pretend that I am
A meandering lion.
poem by Norman Santos
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Moon In The Mirror
Moon in the mirror,
Wont you stay a while tonight?
All things of beauty
Are too soon out of sight.
I know its a selfish plea;
You must light the hearts of more than me.
Theres a girl at her window;
Now shes trying to catch your eye.
But oh, pretty stranger,
You must keep on passing by.
Moon in the mirror, I dont know you;
Just a reflection of kisses
And whispers and indigo skies.
Moon in the mirror, look below you.
Moons looking back and theyre loving
And longing and telling no lies.
Moon in the mirror,
I will ask you one more time,
Not for a reason and not for a rhyme,
But please tell me if you can,
Have you seen a moonlit man?
Hes so very like you,
You could see him from afar.
Perhaps hes a misplaced moonbeam
Or a banished star.
Moon in the mirror, hes so like you.
Light up the room for an hour;
A smile or the beat of my heart.
Oh, how my heart tried to fight him,
Fight against mirrors of moonlight
Or lovelight. you lost from the start,
From the start
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Truce
Your nacreous eyes is a mirror
Palled by a multitude of horror
A window swung open
But shuttered by a void emptiness
In its hazel glaze I implored
My own lifeless reflection
Still - like a metallic lake
Concealing a surreptitious daemon
Whilst the myopia of vision won
And stifled any sanguine climate
We never batted an eyelash
In hope for a drifting light
And in fear of total eclipse
So eye to eye, we confabulated
With metaphors and false-analogies
As our thoughts morph into blindness
White as oblivion and black as its shadow
Piercing the robust chamber of life
And the angel's panacea slewed
Into the squalid gutters, it burned
With a pang that perpetuates
Like your voice, when you assured
That crows are black
And pigeons maybe white,
Maybe gray, maybe colorless
And you contended to bring a light
In the ubiquity of shades
But our eyes are older than the hills
That sans our chains and suppressed
Our inner lamentations
And this struggle to put up
With your vindictive stares
Defiles my inner sanctum
For the fortification you gave me
Is now a bastion against your assaults
And truce, I call, upon this white flag
To all the venomous foreseeing,
To all the harlequin tears,
To all the forgotten spur,
To all the farce destruction
I shut my eyes tonight
To sleep and relearn:
Reset the ways
Of the scathing Braille.
poem by Norman Santos
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Broken Windows Shattered Mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
The tiny slivers fall like tears
They cut me till my arms run red
They make me wish that I was dead
And though I try to carry on
I know my time here's almost gone
Broken windows shattered mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'm surrounded by these fears
I know I shouldn't be afraid
I feel like I'm locked up in a cage
I push and pull try to get out
I scream until I just can't shout
Broken windows shattered mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'll have bad luck seven years
I know it's just a superstition
But I also know it's pure intuition
That made me stay not fade away
So I could live another day
Broken windows shattered mirrors
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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My Mirrors Past
I look into the mirror
and stare at this face.
Life has gotten dearer.
Time has left its trace.
What happened to the innocence?
Where is that youthful glow?
This isn't the mirror I saw myself in
So many years ago.
Innocence became reality.
Youth gave way to mature
Now I wish I had the mirror
I looked into before.
Mirrors show an image
We may not want to see.
The way we are today.
How we used to be.
Remember while you're looking.
The reflection doesn't last.
Just think of how it was
When you looked In Mirrors Past.
poem by Ashleigh Gaffney
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A New Flame for the Old Embers
The vapid rain breaking upon the quietude
of the pebbles under our monastic feet
reminds me of the words sent into your halls
ricocheting like a phantom's dying plea -
futilely emitted from the shy rupture,
a premature eruption, to taste the savvy
of disappointments and rueful affinities
How aplomb are the pummeling underneath
the weather's veins - blue and sterile as
the ethers inflamed inside my nights
I fell into a dreamy stupor, loquacious sibilance
stings like a razor from the charred memories
And, through and through, I slide inside
the abortive cradle of fire, wondering
if the flames invoked by the same embers
are alike, or do they dissipate and die
when the rain collapses from its slumber
and leave remnants of its piquant touch to
give birth to another ocean of soldering mirages
In this horizontal vertigo of water and flame,
I instill enigmas into the interpolating leaves
and some other night, under a new moon
I would ruminate awake and bleared: to what
these soughing violins of the trees demand?
Like a thunder whetted by the extremities
of temperature, I hoard all these injuries
and soon would my sun reveal its horns
and the superfluous flames it had hatched
from the brooding upon atrophied ties
Because for now, I can only live inside
the chrysalis of the mind, cicatrizing
the salted wounds and dabbing the
beautiful smears that I shall nurture
to make wings of vanity and, here
I shall dream of flitting back unto
your cavernous firmament like
a defunct chandelier swooning for
your flamboyant palettes, and dream
I shall, until the colors subside and dissolve
into my fastidious realizations
of lacquered flames prancing
above these cold ancient coals.
poem by Norman Santos
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In Mirrors Past
I look into the mirror
and stare at this face.
Life has gotten dearer.
Time has left its trace. What happened to the innocence?
Where is that youthful glow?
This isn't the mirror I saw myself in
so many years ago. Innocence became reality.
Youth gave way to mature
Now I wish I had the mirror
I looked into before. Mirrors show an image
We may not want to see.
The way we are today.
How we used to be. Remember while you're looking.
The reflection doesn't last.
Just think of how it was
When you looked In Mirrors Past.
poem by Wendy Marie Georgi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Lovely Is The Dark Tonight
The strident lights of the night
Watched the uneventful soliloquy
With pensive restriction from
Trying not to careen to deeply
Because these sly sentries hide
Its surreptitious espionage from us
But if you will stare back at the nacreous
And beguiling eyes of the vesper
You will find how immense it grew
From the feeding with jealous visions
The undulating air rolled soundly
Rising like a leaded tongue
And spitting blue ether and red water
And ironic palettes and metallic letters
That spoke of many unspoken secrets -
Trivialities that destructs the fantasy,
The misbegotten innocence and
Enraptures a wrathful malcontent
Drowning in an electric fire
The tactlessly swept stars pointed
The voices bouncing the haggled earth
And the enigma shrouding the ostentation
Of the darkness sways like a pendulum
Enthralling you to its drowsy spell
Because the night had many niceties
Sly as the hands veiled behind
Her darkest tresses but if you comb
And commiserate with her cries
You will fall in love with her quintessence:
A riddle I cannot fathom
Spiced by her jovial invitation
And her masquerading misery.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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