Heist
Immolated before the jeopardy
of my sudden involution -
Now beckoned and yearned,
now abjured and declined;
Our bellicose collision
cloyed with affinity
now floundering like a cry
in a shapeless silhouette
of a shackled poltergeist
Is this you terse revenge
or your inconsistent demand?
With dove-feet and rose-tongue
you pilfered the molted skin
and took the vulnerability
away for granted
and threw me into
the hollows of abeyance.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Never Bellicose
From likeness to loveness,
From loveness to intimacy,
From intimacy to veracity,
From me to you of course,
From you to me it is
So parallel but never bellicose
From friendship to companionship,
From companionship to passion,
Our days so spaced,
Our lives so placed,
From opposite ends we came,
So parallel but never bellicose
She was modern, I was traditional
She was uptown, I was downtown
She was rich, I was poor,
Never promised her haven,
So different but never bellicose
Our hearts were different,
Our lives were so distinct,
Our choices were zig zag
Yet our love an equilibrium
Never bellicose, never bellicose
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Metamorphosing Into Poignancy
There upon the soughing coughs of
the interminable vacuum of gravity,
the poems sprawled intermingling with
a desire to be read along with tatterdemalion
tragedies awaiting for the fall of Troy's defenses
to succumb into the unsolicited succors
cloyed upon your generous hands
Bibliophilic remedies only revives the flowers
felled in your gray-faced mausoleum
along with the bard's crooning to the
marigolds prancing for rain and sunshine;
The reflection in the blood-spattered tiles pries
for a sangfroid perchance that barters treasures
for these despondent malingerers' desire
Defenestrated with a roll of tobacco-lust,
the effluence of smoke carrying your faint
ambers crawled into the sky before it fecundated -
skin to soul inward-fulmination, and gave birth
to a phantasmagoria festooned with the veritable
pangs of misery protecting the frailty of
a white rose's calculated corolla of petals
There is no backdoors waiting in this labyrinth
so I roamed with dove-feet sunwards
donned in a raiment of shattered glass, I kneel
before the moon's phosphorous jeopardy
and prayed a succinct and embarrassed plea
to be taken in the cradles of your lost lullaby
But the cacophonous propinquity of the
dungeons where I abolished my only wish and
the suppuration of your tender pensiveness
toppled in a gravid dyslexia of niceties
and the entropy of empathy succumbs
to the larceny where the mindless
dandelions gave up their roots and family
What is more austere than the grief in wanting
something as perilous as a freefall in a gully
of fatally abundant-coloured finches is to
tether one's desire to the sullen bliss of
an empty tableau that ousts every blood
etched upon its obstinate ashen skin
The windless sand caught the fire seething
with the raining lances and the insinuation
of naivety personified, and in that cold war,
haplessly naked to the merciless conflagrations
I permitted my shriveled hands to percolate
through the infinite quartz, probing for the lost
end of a shapeless thread that shall fit the
ajar eye of my needle and perhaps resume
the weaving of my already sun-washed tapestry
Metamorphosing endlessly, shifting is a fix
below the grandiosity of chandeliers and
inside the cravings of a lurid vanity
mirroring the grotesque aftermath,
on and on, I debilitated my perfunctory mouth
to spill the simple soul into the garish light
without any rational purpose at all.
poem by Norman Santos
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Just Follow Where The Light Goes
In her stammering scintillations
She owned the forlorn vesper
Famished for an abeyance
She was an armada of light
A sprinkled sugar in the lattices
Of a cobwebbed chandelier
The ubiquity of the dark sky
Was already her possession
But she cannot see her petals
That are tightly curled, of a sudden
Wide open like a moonflower
Fringing the dominion of
The fringeless silhouette
Of the constantly shifting weather
And there was no trail
That you have not followed
Northern light, far behind
Is south, distally are east and west
What lisping choreography
Can you not follow.
poem by Norman Santos
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Poisoned Rose
The poisoned rose
That you gave to me
It left me half alive
And half in ecstasy
But if half of your love
Is all I can win
Give me just a fraction
But no more medicine
The poisoned rose
On a valentine card
That you take straight to the heart
That you call my junkyard
But if all I can do
Is save pieces of you
The piece of your mind
The piece of your heart
Didnt tear me apart
Like the poisoned rose
I received from you
I dont know
How we came to grow
Into this very sad affair
Everytime we do the decent thing
Somebody spikes the drink
And a single becomes a pair
The poisoned rose
That you wear at your best
That I keep pressed between the white sheets
Where you lie half undressed
I threw away my shirt and shoes
You looked and I dived in
Its just you and me now
cause I threw away the gin
I threw away your alibis
And all your worn-out clothes
I threw myself upon the floor
But I couldnt throw away
This poisoned rose
This poisoned rose
This poisoned rose
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At least once
In spite of proximity, affinity,
Vulnerability, liberality,
And secrecy, a woman still eludes
Evades and escapes from a man’s embrace.
Shame is a dog that guards her.
Who hasn’t suspected his wife at least once?
11.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rainbow Silhouette
I saw a rainbow silhouette from the sky
I know the reason and its purpose why
God in His infinite goodness and love
Wanted to give this to me from above
My life has its own ups and downs
Gazing up to the sky, the rainbow silhouette covered me down
It's different colors, are colors of God's skin
Black, brown, yellow, red, white, everybody are His kin
I saw a rainbow silhouette again tonight
I can dream peacefully now and sleep tight.
What about you...? i hope so..
God bless you..
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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Sonnet XV
Above the ruin of God's holy place,
Where man-forsaken lay the bleeding rood,
Whose hands, when men had craved substantial food,
Gave not, nor folded when they cried, Embrace,
I saw exalted in the latter days
Her whom west winds with natal foam bedewed,
Wafted toward Cyprus, lily-breasted, nude,
Standing with arms out-stretched and flower-like face.
And, sick with all those centuries of tears
Shed in the penance for factitious woe,
Once more I saw the nations at her feet,
For Love shone in their eyes, and in their ears
Come unto me, Love beckoned them, for lo!
The breast your lips abjured is still as sweet.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Floundering
(carly simon)
First she sees her hypnotist
When she rushes to her psychiatrist
She sees her acupuncturist
Shes got to got to get fixed
Then she sees her scientologist
Gets fed by her nutritionist
She can not seem to resist
Seeking cosmic consciousness
Chorus:
Looks like shes floundering again
Seems to be floundering again
Looks like shes floundering again
Seems to be floundering again
She swears by jack la lanne
Then she throws the I ching again
She searches in the himalayas
For someone to ease the pain
Chorus
Shes looking for a cure
She does not know exactly what for
Chorus
Shes into political activism
Reading up on tibetan buddism
Anna freuds analysed her dreams
And shes hoarse from primal screams
Chorus
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A sudden dart when a little over a hundred feet from the end of the track, or a little over 120 feet from the point at which it rose into the air, ended the flight.
quote by Orville Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Innocent victims
Girls by large fall victims of
Predatory sexual attention
Crafted by a teacher, coach,
The boss or an uncle from
Proximity, sanctioned affinity,
Guarded secrecy on one hand
and girl’s curiosity and her vulnerability
on the other hand, And since then
They have been carrying
The guilt of their impulsive acts.
28.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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When Im Yours
(head)
Turning me on and with your eyes
Playing along and with your eyes
Coming on strong and with your eyes
You burn me
Searching to please and with your smile
Cursing with ease and with your smile
Kindle the flame and with your smile
You burn me
Id rather you told me that you couldnt care less
Than put me through numbers that feel like a test
I want you
But I gotta know that Im wanted
That I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Turning me on and with your eyes
Playing along and with your eyes
Coming on strong and with your eyes
You burn me
Searching to please and with your smile
Cursing with ease and with your smile
Kindle the flame and with your smile
You burn me
Id rather you told me that you couldnt care less
Than put me through numbers that feel like a test
I want you
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Break
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
Ill be yours to command and obey
I wont demand, but I gotta know
That Im wanted
And I dont get taken for granted
When Im yours
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Victims continue
Revenge is the means God punishes by.
Pleasure of revenge is God given bait.
Revenge removes hurt feelings, yet no good.
Revenge breeds revenge; victims continue.
02.05.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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How Can You Be So Unforgiving?
many times i watch you
you are very near
my breath touches your
skin
my tongue is restrained
it is true
you do not bore me
you give life like a song
of a dying bird
when i listen you start
to play with your wings
and the wind
is perplexed
when i kiss you
you begin to fly away from my
tongue which has always
been true
as ever
like the ray of the sun
to the petal of
the rose
that is my only mistake
you are not forgiving
my breath touches the shadows
of your footsteps
my tongue licks the mud.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From Spring Days to Winter (For Music)
In the glad springtime when leaves were green,
O merrily the throstle sings!
I sought, amid the tangled sheen,
Love whom mine eyes had never seen,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
Between the blossoms red and white,
O merrily the throstle sings!
My love first came into my sight,
O perfect vision of delight,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
The yellow apples glowed like fire,
O merrily the throstle sings!
O Love too great for lip or lyre,
Blown rose of love and of desire,
O the glad dove has golden wings!
But now with snow the tree is grey,
Ah, sadly now the throstle sings!
My love is dead: ah! well-a-day,
See at her silent feet I lay
A dove with broken wings!
Ah, Love! ah, Love! that thou wert slain -
Fond Dove, fond Dove return again!
poem by Oscar Wilde
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The closest thing to a law of nature in business is that form has an affinity for expense, while substance has an affinity for income.
Lionized
The night dawned beneath
the searing diadems
sprawled on the floors
without a king or a queen
like a roarless lion
prancing on a tawny field
without any manifestation -
a gilded mass of a shadow
capitulated from its vigor
The light spangling faintly
upon the sweating glass
the pendulum crashed
with the moon on her boudoir
clad by gargoyle clouds
we possess the darkness
cloyed by our eyes
We took ferocity for granted
whuthering from the ascent
the soldering amber sent -
A babel of roars marauding
the forlorn passages to the
gaping chamber of frailty
like a folded letter sweating
in gasoline we await
to be torched before them:
a terse plea to be saved
in the resonance of the pangs
of a miserable wound's cry
cussing with a threat
In this clandestine stupor
I found the enigma of the trees;
their interpolations caught
in the equinox of time
while the whimsy downpour
beats our jellyfish backs
like storm-troubled wings
heralding ludicrous tidings
and before the jeopardy
cicatrize in the garrisons
we called for seraphic pardons
and their vanguard hailed
like blood lusting lances
turbidly awakening the lions
asleep under their cages
Insinuated from the mayhem
a searing sputter broke
like a child's innocuous laugh
tearing the madhouses
and the farcical torment
The crest of the smoke
assuaged the distraught
clogging the facial veins
unbeknownst to the shattering
before numbness and
naivety was the same
under the parsimony
of truth and humility
Pawned for the rectification
this panacea held
like stars in the firmament
I wished for the chandelier
to break and fall
and in the stupor
I broke for everything
broken and sleeping
under the sepulchral
in a forlorn furlough
perhaps, for never more.
This is the way
of the lions.
poem by Norman Santos
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Fading Letters
Tonight, like many a more
I unfolded your letters
tucked beside my bed
castrated of its fragrance
in every contour flailing,
every eloquence rising,
I found you - enveloped in sunshine
skimming through
the phosphorescent sand
like a lucid lullaby
I saddled back to Levanther
of exchanged letters -
your frail façade glassy
from dancing behind your eyes,
your words like beacons:
a lighthouse in a sea
coruscating with a song
in a night where I sink
underneath its storm,
and the holiday you've sealed
for all the miles, the oceans
and plastered maladies
slithering in the crevasses
of our fondled affinity
In a deterred dream of blue
I reckon you, palms opened
like waiting windows
your moony eyes amicably evocated
the lost and sequestered beads
spread against the firmament
like gargoyles bemusing the demise
gnawing on my cold skin
untouched by the silky moon
or the arrogant sun's maw,
listening inside the cage
where the conch's susurrations
echoed like the melody
that you've taught me
then and now
in dissimilar pedagogies
The hymn that enthuses
the yarns to elope and extend
spun like a maudlin
an engineering arachnid,
indulgently succumbing
as subtle as a
fluorescent light's droning
and garish like
it's stark screaming
now spiraling and drilling
a harried clockwork
unmaking me a memory
a terse riddance
and revenge.
poem by Norman Santos
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My Personal Revenge
(english translation by jorge calderon)
My personal revenge will be the right
Of our children in the schools and in the gardens
My personal revenge will be to give you
This song which has flourished without panic
My personal revenge will be to show you
The kindness in the eyes of my people
Who have always fought relentlessly in battle
And been generous and firm in victory
My personal revenge will be to tell you good morning
On a street without beggars or homeless
When instead of jailing you I suggest
You shake away the sadness there that blinds you
And when you who have applied your hands in torture
Are unable to look up at what surrounds you
My personal revenge will be to give you
These hands that once you so mistreated
But have failed to take away their tenderness
It was the people who hated you the most
When rage became the language of their song
And underneath the skin of this town today
Its heart has been scarred forevermore
It was the people who hated you the most
When rage became the language of their song
And underneath the skin of this town today
Its heart has been scarred forevermore
And underneath the skin of this town today
Red and black, its hearts been scarred
Forevermore
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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R T A
They didn't see the collision coming
They were always coasting
Never looking with their eyes
Choosing always to stand
On the sideline where people were talking
They were all strangers
Huddled together under a january sky
Bodies spewed their contents
Emptied handbags
Broken cellphones
Some still ringing
While they stood watching
Waiting for someone to speak
Then the yellow coats arrived
sirens wailing lights flashing
Picking through the pieces
Looking for signs of life
No one was prepared for this
This sudden collision
A rainbow of clothes scattered
Blood splattered faces
She asked for her mother
But it was to late.
They gathered up the bodies
Some bundled under red blankets
Some faces hidden
No record of who they had been
Or where they were going
The collision happened
Then suddenly the crowd dispersed
The siren screamed into the distant
Like a last cry
Soon to be forgotten
[some would be later identified by their teeth]
yvette m smith jan 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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