Peering Through The Lattices
The day broke sprouting spidery lattices
And before it galloped the green verdure
It caught everything suspended, unraveling
The yarns of the eroding delirium of dreams
And like a hungry hunter, it devoured the prey
Before eyelids lifted to shower in the sun
These windows shunned by obdurate curtains
Somewhere, a moth earned a brand new wing
And struggled out of its chrysalis heralding
A brand new hope and a youthful hunger
So it shook its virulent dusts and sapped
The mildew suspended in the lattices of time
But before it glides the porcelain currents
It was caught suspended, wings perishing
I peered through the lattices, severed my eyes
I touched the marring embers of the sunset
A lighthouse to the directionless ocean
To find your reflection there, docked on a shore
Spraying bubbles to the silenced stance of the stones
While I swam away where the sun's graze
Can never reach, I swam where I will fade
And reset my lifelessness in a dancing tomb
But before hand, all is lost to the foreseeing heart
I fell through the lattices, where my voice
Beckoned to the wintery clouds
And juggled into a rollercoaster ride
Playing riddles and solving puzzles
Confounding the answers that hurled itself
From the darkness into the light
But the web ensnared the commutation
I fell through the lattices, where voices resounded
Dangling on a gibbet without a prayer
And falling like echoes on a well
It writhes unknowingly from pointing fingers
And gnarling bruised toes, it writhes
When it came riddling with charming words
But empty meaning and resolutions
The end of it marauded the room
Before the doors were closed
Somewhere, the sunset leaned against a pillar
Combing and braiding its golden mane
Fecundating the resurgence of the sea
Endeavoring to grab on the taut threads
That the enigma of the unknown wove.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
The Rain Comes Sobbing to the Door
The night grows dark, and weird, and cold; and thick drops patter on the pane;
There comes a wailing from the sea; the wind is weary of the rain.
The red coals click beneath the flame, and see, with slow and silent feet
The hooded shadows cross the woods to where the twilight waters beat!
Now, fan-wise from the ruddy fire, a brilliance sweeps athwart the floor;
As, streaming down the lattices, the rain comes sobbing to the door:
As, streaming down the lattices,
The rain comes sobbing to the door.
Dull echoes round the casement fall, and through the empty chambers go,
Like forms unseen whom we can hear on tip-toe stealing to and fro.
But fill your glasses to the brims, and, through a mist of smiles and tears,
Our eyes shall tell how much we love to toast the shades of other years!
And hither they will flock again, the ghosts of things that are no more,
While, streaming down the lattices, the rain comes sobbing to the door:
While, streaming down the lattices,
The rain comes sobbing to the door.
The tempest-trodden wastelands moan - the trees are threshing at the blast;
And now they come, the pallid shapes of Dreams that perished in the past;
And, when we lift the windows up, a smothered whisper round us strays,
Like some lone wandering voice from graves
that hold the wrecks of bygone days.
I tell ye that I ~love~ the storm, for think we not of ~thoughts~ of yore,
When, streaming down the lattices, the rain comes sobbing to the door?
When, streaming down the lattices,
The rain comes sobbing to the door?
We'll drink to those we sadly miss, and sing some mournful song we know,
Since they may chance to hear it all, and muse on friends they've left below.
Who knows - if souls in bliss can leave the borders of their Eden-home -
But that some loving one may now about the ancient threshold roam?
Oh, like an exile, he would hail a glimpse of the familiar floor,
Though, streaming down the lattices, the rain comes sobbing to the door!
Though, streaming down the lattices,
The rain comes sobbing to the door!
poem by Henry Kendall
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Wallflower
A cigarette in the room
a veil of smoke
dislimning a short smile
for the red stars
and blue bulbs
The wallpaper caught
the shadows suspended
in the lattices of time
and made a room
for everyone
Before the wallflower
bloomed and divulged
its redolent presence
there was an oscillating hand
who grazed its petals
and bled on its thorns
But when it had gone
to dissolve with myriad shapes
and shadows of the past
the flower withered
like a bottomless hourglass
The fragrance won't come off
even in evisceration,
even in abolition,
writhing brown and crisp
like a heart disembogued
vying for its old blood
But no one pried
underneath a wallflower
so he waited for the old hands
who held him once
poem by Norman Santos
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Lightning Thief
These intrepid hands caught
the descending forks of light
and subdued the harrying cloudburst
like how a child grasps things
out of instinct - from hunger, for safety
with a dire silence in lieu
of the inevitable cleaving
because jeopardizing eyes delve
in the lattices of injured acceptance
for the gnawing pain that scored pride
and the unpaid obeisance
These flimsy hands are burned out
as it steadfastly held unto
the arrowheads of lightning -
the soldering bell rope of alarm
And the treacherously valiant soul,
cautiously and vigilantly, weaves
the heaven's spilled fire of blue
to craft a pall of false pretense:
a gradient of varied palettes
that shall suppress the black hole
siphoning all the scintillating lights
In the limbo of these guzzled suffering
lies an immeasurable abyss
where darkness devours darkness
fecundating the filigree of mistakes
and lost perchance of corrections,
these hands fell suspended
from its larcenous struggle to knot
the ends of heaven's unwoven tassels -
these hailing lightning that
crackled with a shattered frame
and dangles blithely from a tattered tapestry -
for my desire to redeem the casted crown
is deemed futile every time
the blue electric wires slip away
from the pleading grip of my thieving hands
Wuthering for the weeping cicatrix,
these sorry hands vied against
the inertia of predetermined sequence
and still, the old ailing bones
and progressive states of senescence
defeated all the pure endeavors
The sky hurled a riling fist
and stabbed the glassine walls
of these somnambulistic eyes
and the bellicose mangling
was no different than the lightning
I stole in the most intimate privacy.
poem by Norman Santos
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When The Opened Is Closed
Hiding behind the alley ensconced
In the open page of your palms
The sun never reached your core -
A cold song the harpist cannot play
Without scathing her lissome fingers
Your pernicious montage can reel
Unfathomable pensiveness stalled
With a detrimental distraught
And like the gyratory leaves of July
We plummet down into an ennui
Of counting the withered petals
And plucking the defensive thorns
Reading behind the taut lines
That strode in the rousing verses
But when the library closes
How do we festoon the metronome
Slowly sojourning to decadence?
The sunset leaned on a pillar
And the moths confabulated with dusts
Shook from their giddy wings
Drowning the very poison of their being
Into their virulent eyes and even
Fatally caustic jellyfish wings
I asked for all the poison
Now I am but a living treason
With apathetic bones
In parsimony of truth and humility
But when the light had flown
Away with the peripatetic time
Your sad song devoured
By the luminance of the sand:
Your pensive theater closed
With all the eloquent environs
And visions obdurate from doom;
And castles and lore revolves
In the innocent corner of the mind
What reason or unreason can oppose
The closing of the latched doors?
As the mousetrap closes
A two-faced charade spoke of
The floodgates being opened;
In this hunger game
We will never win
When the opened is closed
And dabbed with a bulwark flood
To run a quagmire of cellars
We can only amble back to our ruts
Running away from what we chase.
poem by Norman Santos
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Cloud Song
Clouds Beg Admiration
Ice Crystal Lattices
The Impossibility Of Identical Snowflakes
Sky Seeds Melting Snow
Watered Memories
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Pardah Nashin
HER life is a revolving dream
Of languid and sequestered ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
From thieving light of eyes impure,
From coveting sun or wind's caress,
Her days are guarded and secure
Behind her carven lattices,
Like jewels in a turbaned crest,
Like secrets in a lover's breast.
But though no hand unsanctioned dares
Unveil the mysteries of her grace,
Time lifts the curtain unawares,
And Sorrow looks into her face . . .
Who shall prevent the subtle years,
Or shield a woman's eyes from tears?
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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My Door Is A Lamp
One day You ask: What are you up to?
- I work for lattices
And concoct doors for lamps.
The door to heaven will be split,
My doors shall turn into gates
Encircling my heaven of Old.
Radiation picks up from Hell,
Heaven closes its gates,
And my doors open and shut
To let Me only enter
My heaven and Paradise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Aimes-tu Brahms?
I am metabolizing Brahms
running his First Piano Trio
directly into an artery
the virus insinuates itself into
the probability field I call my life
lysergic bursts
light the limbic lattices
of my brain
and I
a lucipetal moth
impelled
toward the bright fields of mind
my thinking is wide now
all open
no fastenings
no demands
aimes-tu Brahms?
poem by Joan Woodbridge
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Women
The night was gravid with many secrets
And as the fecundated moon probed
Through the lattices of the branches
The giddy wind shook her lovely boughs
And the sinful fruits fell into the ground
Rapidly blossoming to become the garden
Of a woman's clandestine volitions
And women, I spoke of you:
Like a fell star, a woman can make you wish
Or make you hope and believe in promises
Without constitutions, with empty bliss
A woman will glamor and capture you
With her eloquent and elusive wisps
Like a defenseless bird, she would beat her wings
To scull her own wind and you will plead
To be her zephyr and in her slavery
You shall be ferried to a new firmament
Lamented by her flightless incarceration
Like the enigma of flowers, she exhibits her petals
Like bloomed parasols and her wandering pollens
Will smear your face with the taste of nectar
And saccharine pleasures eluding the sight
Of her perfidiously brambly thorns
The willowy night gave birth to women
In her wintery boudoir and multitude of palettes
And nurtured her antipathy and succinct savor
By giving men a sense of responsibility
To warden a woman's querulous misery
And in the vesper's open palms
We perched like contingent butterflies
So women, I speak to you:
Like a fell star, unfurl your scintillated feet
That made you traverse the misconstrued circles
Where I espied your graceful oscillation
Masquerading your inebriated staggering
Falling like a cold tear in an empty sky
Like a flightless peacock, boast with your plumes
And sing your fluently woven songs
But in the night, smear the rouge in abolition
And let me cater to your attrition,
Weave your nest and be your protection
Like the flowers of vicissitude, inveigle the astray
With your redolent entity and corolla of petals
Like a tiara or a filigree, and wither not
When the rain tarnished for the sunny skies
Reveal your thorns so I can succumb to your enigma.
poem by Norman Santos
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Deepest Love The World Has Known
i've searched the fields the world over
searching for that four leaf clover.
thinking that this could fill my life
of the voids within my heart.
but the biggest void was from you
from the start.
a four leaf clover could never replace
when i fell from your grace.
i have learned from my sins.
and i'm hoping that i could get back in.
back into that beautiful heart
where i could make a brand new start
in your love i was like a fish in the sea
because your beauty 'totally surrounded me'.
in every direction that i swam.
i could always see, that your deep love
became a part of me.
my love has reached the bottom of the ocean floor
rose up and touched every shore.
i have swam the world over, and
never looking over my shoulder.
for my love is deeper and wider than the ocean itself.
it will reach heaven and it will touch hell
and if you were to see it, you could surely tell.
the deepest love the world has known
is the love, that i have shown.
not the height of the universe
or the depth of the ocean
could compare to my infinite love and devotion.
now! you ask me for who can this love be.
IT IS FOR CHRIST, FOR HE HAS SET ME FREE.
poem by Louis Rams
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Into The Sunset
(mike batt)
Producer for bonnie: mike batt
Recorded in 1990 as part of the soundtrack to the animated tv series 'the dreamstone'. the lyrics are taken from the soundtrack sleeve
The stories we could tell
God knows what we've both been through
You caught me when i fell
The same as i did for you
Don't let the wild winds blow out the flame
It won't ever be the same
Into the sunset once again together
After the darkness and the rain
Into the sunset we could ride forever
There goes that dream again
The dangers that we face
Are great if we let them be
No army could replace
The strength that you give to me
Don't let the wild woods lead us astray
And don't let us lose our way
Into the sunset once again together
After the darkness and and the rain
Into the sunset we could ride forever
There goes that dream again
Into the sunset once again together
After the darkness and and the rain
Into the sunset we could ride forever
There goes that dream again
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Knows No Passages
Nights in white cottages
By the last of the flickered firelight,
Supping sweet pottages
To the wind-wail without,
With the water on the wet wall
And your shadow on the lattices
As you cold-come to comfort
In the red candlelight.
At the grey day's frail dawning
We walk the storm ravages,
We talk at the tattered sea shore
Where the tide night-high rips,
I kissed you on a grey sky
Where the shells turn to sea-sand,
For time knows no passages
At a warm woman's lips.
5 July 1981
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Sunset Now
Sun crazed in our room
It was an endless afternoon
It seemed that we were so immune
The nights were stronger and longer
I fell on my pillow saying
Tell the world that luckys calling
Gold dust falling
Here in action town
Sunset now
Sunset now
Sunset now
Sunset now
Blade flew into town
In time to watch the sun go down
He said the new prince must be found
The message shattered our windows
We know it was over, saying
Tell the boys that were not handing
Over any part
Of action town
Sunset now
Sunset now
Sunset now now! now!
Pay out, run out, work out, die out
Action town (action town)
If you have the name
Then you win the game
In action town (action town)
Bang bang youre dead
Its raining bread
Sunset now
Now that we have gone
Do we have strength to carry on
It seems like all our sun has shone
It seems our dice are as cold as ice
But something in my heart keeps saying
Tell the world that luckys coming
Lines are humming
Here comes action town
Sunset now (to fade)
song performed by by Heaven 17
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vendetta
While the chagrined wine
rummaged like a felled rose -
electric shivers in the spine
willowing the pretty mouth
and the abolition of eyes
the tethers that we rival
only strops the exoneration
into exacerbating this
premature demise
Waltz into the dark curtain
like a soundless hunter
Hold your vehemence
in a gnarl I'd never grasp
and into my diamond penetralium
send the lamentations
like ghastly susurrations
from masquerading
varmints of my sanctum;
Like a connoisseur contender
be the vendetta
of my trespasses
Into my insulated night
come, like an ominous chill
from the sniffing hounds
and do not pity
or scorn at my cradle
as empty as
a womanless bed
Stifle under your breath
to descry the black veins
running like a torrent horse
away from the fray -
A tide to wash away
the derided sanity
with a hathful of squalor
and caustic brine
These waterlogged eyes
unheeding its abrasions
silent like a grave
for all the exhorted alibis
but if you can crane closer
enough to catch my perishing
and wuthering pillars
shall you weep not
for the burnt shutters
of my vacant windows
for when your breath
catches the sibilant embers
the flyleaf would turn
itching and desperate
for another tragedy
Unless you come
for the perfect vengeance
against all the lattices
that sundered our incendiary,
for when you hold me close
into the spikes of finitude
I would gorge in quantum chances
and topple back unto
your generous brawls
poem by Norman Santos
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Twilight
My heart was racing towards the sunset,
which stood with misty colors like rainbow,
painting a poster of people walking straight,
along the canal in a melancholy row.
To this enchantment I became reminiscent,
serenading love in the gloomy moments of twilight,
Reality came amidst the youthful testament,
To stir my heart with pleasure and delight.
Engaging dreams reflecting the twilight,
the truth about emotion almost touched oblivion,
Whiles caught in a net by the estranged light;
I toiled hard to find comprehension.
And found familiar joy upon a gondola ride,
parting waves stripping like pieces of rags,
Roaming along the glassy water path we glide,
Time share recluses and recurrent laughs.
Fading light took disguises under red sky reset,
reflection release pain into the sea of memory,
Closing the day walled up inside the sunset,
and found no place to hide and shelter reality.
Relief mopped the creasing of my brow,
until within the flickering path night cross,
the watery snow to find the eternal vow,
Retreating with the atoning kisses.
poem by Gerry Legister
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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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Suspended
Dont wake me
Im still dreaming
I dont see you
I cant feel you
Im alone for real in my mind
Ill feel this all night
When my life takes flight
This isnt just in your mind
Were suspended from space and time
I feel like Im falling
What happens when I hit?
Must mean then thats it
This black abyss, this pit
It all seems shades of gray
Im never ready for light of day
This isnt just in your mind
Were suspended from space and time
This isnt just in your mind
Were suspended from space and time
Why do you hurt me?
This reality
Why you smile at me?
Show your fallacies
Dreams hold me down
But let me go
When reality will wake me
I dont know
This isnt just in your mind
Were suspended from space and time
This isnt just in your mind
Were suspended from space and time
Am I dreaming?
If so, then why?
My bodies back on earth
Only spirits can fly
Soaring through dimensions of love
Kinds only my father speaks of
Scenery changes, spins and roll
So does the color of our soul
I know how this must make you feel
You hate me but believe me this is real
This was real
song performed by by Kelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Mrs Truber
Always be yourself, Mrs Truber said,
Don’t be what you’re not. You sat
And studied her as she sat opposite
Stirring her cup of tea, took in her
Greying hair, her lined features, the
Way her bony fingers held the spoon
That stirred. People try to be like others
And find themselves out of their depth
And drown in the waters of lies and deceit,
She added, bringing her light blue eyes
On you. You began to speak, but the words
Were stuck in your throat. She smiled and
Tapped your hand. We are what we are,
She said, but often we are tempted to become
Actors wearing a different mask, trying to
Be a different person. You nodded slowly
And thought how beautiful she must have
Been once. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke,
And as she brushed her hand through her grey
Hair, you thought you caught a glimpse of her
Youthful self peering out of eyes like a child
Staring from windows in a locked up room.
You sipped your tea and watched as she brought
Her hands together as if in prayer. You closed
Your eyes, but when you opened them again,
The room was empty and she wasn’t there.
poem by Terry Collett
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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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Gone Before the Storm
Setting nowhere
Darting through
Clouds of despondence
And I hoped
For taut strings
To be pulled
Or to be shorn.
In the passenger seat
Juxtaposed to an estranged man
I inquired a wonder as
The oblivious crystals slapped
The windshields,
"Is there a storm brewing? "
And he said "There is none."
Silence fell plummeting
With the constant beating
Of melted eyes
In the rigid sheens
Of the glass
And I have surmised
A thunderstorm
Inside the salty oceans
Of the bones.
I squirmed inside the chrysalis
Knowing that
The storm would not
Settle the willowing
Of serrated dusts
And I am running out
Of apologies.
The enigma is that
I am siphoned
Of rationality
But untouched
By naivety.
Everything slewed
Into the gutter
And I am to blame
For fulminating
The thunders
That beckoned
The coming storm
Do you hear me?
Can you see me fade?
poem by Norman Santos
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