The Drab Splendor Of A Gargoyle
The dark came generously
with storm-troubled wings
The stars are all quelled
and the wind hangs purposelessly
There is a streak of verdigris
on the cicatrizing vault
A corolla of change dangles,
a shifting moon unfolds
and my imposition remained
a lackluster glacial metal
The weather was still as gold
and voracious as greedy kings
the crooked hands of the day
basked in luxurious rendezvous
Whilst I dreamed in hues of gray
weaving poems to the blasé moon
stitching the tatterdemalion tapestry
that mantled the ailing wounds
I found myself waiting
in front of a riddling mirror
with words unspoken off
If you knock, it will echo
If you burst, it will find tempo
My penetralium convalesced
nauseated from a peremptory vertigo
and my wallflower's petals
are paper-thin no more
thorns spangled its sleep
because it will never uncurl
under the searchlight's whim
I picked the felled letters
harried by the erratic gyration
of the ponderous atmosphere
I watched it turn to ash
as lips burned from their harangue
but the lions remain asleep
with the phantoms of their dens
and everything passed by
with deaf-mute miscalculations
To slur in the banquet
of manifold palettes
is a one-way ticket
for a subtle gargoyle
watching cold fountains
rise and fall, dance and topple
and on the gray clouds
lambently walk without
leaving scars and without
knotting prostate ties
Tonight, I rivet back
into the walls of my cathedral -
A pivoting turret that hisses
for the giant's intimidations.
poem by Norman Santos
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Related quotes
Ticket To The Moon
Remember the good old 1980s?
When things were so uncomplicated?
I wish I could go back there again
And everything could be the same.
Ive got a ticket to the moon
Ill be leaving here any day soon
Yeah, Ive got a ticket to the moon
But Id rather see the sunrise in your eyes.
Got a ticket to the moon
Ill be rising high above the earth so soon
And the tears I cry might turn into the rain
That gently falls upon your window
Youll never know.
Chorus:
Ticket to the moon (ticket to the moon)
Ticket to the moon (ticket to the moon)
Ticket to the moon (ticket to the moon).
Fly, fly through a troubled sky
Up to a new world shining bright, oh, oh.
Flying high above
Soaring madly through the mysteries that come
Wondering sadly if the ways that led me here
Could turn around and I would see you there
Standing there (and I would see you there, waiting...)
Ticket to the moon
Flight leaves here today from satellite two
As the minutes go by, what should I do?
I paid the fare, what more can I say?
Its just one way (only one way)...
Repeat chorus:
Repeat chorus:
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Whom The Bell Tolls
I heard a bell bellow
but I didn't find its tower
The echolalia coiled eternally
in distraught from insularity
and the mist listened
For whom the bell tolls
when the sun had set for tomorrow
before it can rise today?
Because your lissome hands
grew brass, writhed cold
Your sapphire stares
rived amongst stones
Your search lights marauded
and probed my wasteland
looking for holes behind
the threadbare tapestry
Your sapient picaresque
finally found its tragedy
and your sunshine-soused hands
is soldered to the brittle bones
Look at you, haplessly caught
in your own tangled web
whilst I lambently watch you
like a wistful stone-fleshed gargoyle
as you weave familiar ripples
born by the deluging struggles
that I managed to survive
Look at how your quasars
excoriate wounds and scars
and how the effluence of their screams
fecundates your chandeliers
ready to burst and become
the cul-de-sac of your galaxy
Look at how you morph
into the molts of my old shadows
and my empathy is with
your obdurate struggling
Can you still remember where
the suppuration of the empty bells sleep
and dream of abundant morrows?
My sun crawled up lazily
I heard a tinkered bell
interpolating with abrasive tongues
willowing the old serpentine road
I saw a scathed hand,
its veins are blue and yellow,
pulling the bell's rope
like foisting punches into the air
I saw a wuthering moth
lambently stride to the flame
and heard a bell bellow
for its subtle elegy.
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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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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Fujiwara Effect
I incarcerate myself
inside this harrying vertigo
lambasting with a ponderous
tirade of thunders and lightning
And as I take the conflagration
brought by the sentimental tempest
and drown in your naïve downpour
the scythes of madness dance
like the petals gliding contingency,
as subtle as the gray macabre
behind the clouds of your squall
And this calamity hungers
for more obliteration, annihilation
like how pain needs more pain,
like how an open wound inviting
infection to amputate the roots,
So gust after gust, I inveigled
the lancers to come my way
where I docilely lay on the mud
listening for the ripples secrets
Until a storm fadangoed with a storm
and in the oppressive limbo
I rivet myself in the brunt
oblivious in the fathoms of despair
with a staid despondence
And when everything is ailed
unto a consummate destruction
perhaps, just perhaps,
there'd be room for tomorrow
and a peace that can cradle
the lost perchance of restoration
poem by Norman Santos
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Our Moon
July 1989
Alone I watched the Full Moon rise tonight.
The same Moon rose over you just hours ago.
Did you also watch it rise? Did clouds obscure the view?
Was your night as fine for stargazing?
When the Moon is just starting to clime my horizon
It is finishing its' journey across your sky.
Were you still awake to watch it set?
Did dreams call you away?
Tonight I will watch till this Moon leaves to find you again.
The calendar says each Moon shines on you first.
But the Moon doesn't follow... it leads!
Full Moon... Full Circle
Ruler of tides
My Moon first tonight.
I shall wish it safely back to you.
Last July the Moon carried grief for me.
Was your Moon full of Joy then?
I know it wounds you now.
Once Full Moons of June saw each of us born
Your Moon predating mine in years.
Round Moon... pale circular symbol of eternity
First seen by you... then me... then back again
This Moon connects us, at least in my own heart.
Allow me to wish it back to you fuller, brighter.
The July Moon rises Full over us tonight.
Full... of Promise
poem by Mary Havran
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Here Comes The Moon
Everybodys talking up a storm
Act like they dont notice it
But here it is and here it comes . . .
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Impulse always quickens when its full
As it turns my head around me
Yes it does and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Gods gift I see thats moving up there into the night . . .
Though dark the mirror in the sky reflects us our light:
Looks like a little brother to the sun
Or mother to the stars at night
And here it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Breath is always taken when its new
Enhance upon the clouds around it
Yes it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See You When You're 40
I've driven round in circles for three hours
It was bound to happen that I'd end up at yours
I temporarily forgot there's better days to come
I thought that I would give it just one more chance
Cos' I want, tonight, what I've been waiting for
But I found, tonight, what I'd been warned about
You think you are complicated, deep mystery to all
Well it's taken me a while to see, you're not so special
All energy no meaning, with a lot of words
So paper thin that one real feeling, could knock you down
And I've seen, tonight, what I'd been warned about
I'm gonna leave, tonight, before I change my mind
So see you when your 40, lost and all alone
being comforted by strangers you'll never need to know
not sad because you lost me
but sad because you thought it was cool to be sad
You think misery will make you stand apart from the crowd
well if you had walked past me today I wouldn't have picked you out
I wouldn't have picked you out
I wouldn't have picked you out
now I've seen, tonight, how I could have waste my time
and I'll be on my way, and I won't be back
cos I've seen, tonight, what I've been warned about
your just a boy, not a man, and I'm not coming back
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dance Quickly Now
-
Dance, I said to the boy in the glass
Staring back at me with a darkening mask
Dance, I begged, with love and pain
Dance, please dance, oh dance again
-
Dance with the moon in the child’s eye
Circling the middle as black as coal
Dance quickly now, its leaving soon
Light of the moon and the child’s soul
Dance with the sun in the child’s laugh
Bouncing round off sinister things
Dance quickly now, with crystal prism
Scattering wisdom, melting wings
Dance with the rain in the child’s tear
Watching the clouds attack then stop
Dance quickly now, the storm has shattered
All that mattered, with a single drop
Dance with the hope in his stuttered speech
Holding it close for a later year
Dance quickly now, before he serves
Nonsense words, in a busted mirror
-
Though the moon may spin and the sun revolve
Though love still waits and the rain still falls
Though the child may laugh he glares inside
Exhaling life with a sudden sigh
-
poem by Ben Paynter
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Gratis Et Amore (2)
helen cannot sleep,
and she keeps on sneering at the moon
and writing it
with poems as though the moon is a man
and as though the poems are her
letters pleading
to be loved by its glimmer
and shimmer imagining
them to be the rough hands
of a lover and
throughout many nights
she had been waiting
to be loved
there were many things that she did
all for the moon not even for the stars
until one morning she was found
dead inside her room
her face towards the moon
her eyes closed
her window open
and the people who buried her
that same day
told about the shame
that she was naked
i know how it is to be like her
and it was all done in the name of love
gratis et amore.
and they said, all of them, after all the prayers were said
Amen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Anywhere
I WALK THE MAZE OF MOMENTS
BUT EVERYWHERE I TURN TO
BEGINS A NEW BEGINNING
BUT NEVER FINDS A FINISH
I WALK TO THE HORIZON
AND THERE I FIND ANOTHER
IT ALL SEEMS SO SURPRISING
AND THEN I FIND THAT I KNOW
YOU GO THERE YOURE GONE FOREVER
I GO THERE ILL LOSE MY WAY
IF WE STAY HERE WERE NOT TOGETHER
ANYWHERE IS
THE MOON UPON THE OCEAN
IS SWEPT AROUND IN MOTION
BUT WITHOUT EVER KNOWING
THE REASON FOR ITS FLOWING
IN MOTION ON THE OCEAN
THE MOON STILL KEEPS ON MOVING
THE WAVES STILL KEEP ON WAVING
AND I STILL KEEP ON GOING
YOU GO THERE YOURE GONE FOREVER...
I WONDER IF THE STARS SIGN
THE LIFE THAT IS TO BE MINE
AND WOULD THEY LET THEIR LIGHT SHINE
ENOUGH FOR ME TO FOLLOW
I LOOK UP TO THE HEAVENS
BUT NIGHT HAS CLOUDED OVER
NO SPARK OF CONSTELLATION
NO VELA NO ORION
THE SHELLS UPON THE WARM SANDS
HAVE TAKEN FROM THEIR OWN LANDS
THE ECHO OF THEIR STORY
BUT ALL I HEAR ARE LOW SOUNDS
AS PILLOW WORDS ARE WEAVING
AND WILLOW WAVES ARE LEAVING
BUT SHOULD I BE BELIEVING
THAT I AM ONLY DREAMING
YOU GO THERE YOURE GONE FOREVER...
TO LEAVE THE THREAD OF ALL TIME
AND LET IT MAKE A DARK LINE
IN HOPES THAT I CAN STILL FIND
THW WAY BACK TO THE MOMENT
I TOOK THE TURN AND TURN TO
BEGIN A NEW BEGINNING
STILL LOOKING FOR THE ANSWER
I CANNOT FIND THE FINISH
ITS EITHER THIS OR THAT WAY
ITS ONE WAY OR THE OTHER
IT SHOULD BE ONE DIRECTION
IT COULD BE ON REFLECTION
THE TURN I HAVE JUST TAKEN
THE TURN THAT I WAS MAKING
I MIGHT BE JUST BEGINNING
I MIGHT BE NEAR THE END
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ties
Ties that bind us.
Survive any storm.
Keep us warm
Through winter years.
And icicle tears
Will melt.
When we remember
How we have felt.
Ties that bind us
Ride on any tune.
Lighting stars to the moon.
In that fiery carriage
Of dreams.
Evil schemes
All blown away
When the wind
Whistles our melody sweet.
Shooting stars
Above a lonely street.
The ties that bind us.
Tapestry of the heart.
Woven
Before our souls could part.
Hands that touch
In silent muse.
And rhymes that echo
To defuse
The pain
Of twilight goodbyes.
You see,
You and I
Forever
Will have ties.
That bind us,
Remind us
Of love so new.
Under moonstone skies
Where white dove flew.
poem by Kevin East
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What lies on the other side of a dark moon
My darling says
look how bright is the moon
and the gold
appears on the other side,
of the window pane
where it hangs in a round ball
in the dark night.
It’s as if the stars
tonight are fading away
and every thing in the heaven,
disappears before the bright moon.
We lie on a three quarters bed
and I wonder how many kisses
are still destined for me
and her soft body,
are touching mine
while my hand
glide over her soft round curves.
Her breath tickles my neck
while the night folds around us
and when she disappears into sleep
I am still busy
watching the magical moon
and I wonder what lies on the other side
of a dark moon
and if the sky,
will then have more stars in it,
but the star
that shines the brightest to me
is still in my arms
when the moon disappears
in the early morning.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Exhuming The Bones Of Naivety
I was another orphan
from the gravid collections
cloyed by jealousy,
drifting past the irony
I watched it dance -
the usurped splendor
once basked in the innocent eyes -
with the waning dust motes
with a vehemence of a sleeper
Felled from the platoon,
unrifled and guised with a
perfunctory smile,
hiding amidst the enviable insularity
of the rain's iron curtains
complacence is my confidant
my citadel against
my own destructive measures
And when the crooked hands
of the clock unsheathed
its vengeful fusillade
not a shadow flailed,
not a soul squandered,
everything was as still
as an obsidian memory
as if the wanton silence speaks
a mirror of harangue
against the enemy inside
the eyes of naivety.
poem by Norman Santos
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Songs Of The Sky
In a sky of layered clouds,
dawn becomes a rainbow,
moving through the spectrum
toward the day.
In a sky of always blue,
no clouds ride the wind:
the sun burns brightly,
high and hot and long.
In a sky of may grays,
clouds crash, explode and roar;
rain-filled winds sweep across the prairie.
In a sky of many blues,
clouds dance on the wind;
and endless and quixotic
Rohrschach test.
In a sky of always gray,
no clouds seem to move;
overcast blots out imagination.
In a sky of cold, cold blue,
gray clouds scrape the treetops;
harbingers of winter storms to come.
Beneath a sky of darkening gray,
the prairie grasses rustle
on the small, forgotten farms
of what could've been
and was.
In a sky of mottled gray,
cold rains fall, now and then;
the seasons struggle
for control of April.
In a sky of broken gray,
cold winds precede the rains;
and before long
the darkened clouds re-gather.
In a sky as clear as glass,
and blue from top to bottom,
sultry days of August
slowly drift into September.
In a twi-lit noon-time sky,
this annular eclipse
leaves us just a
ring around the moon.
In a sky of many clouds,
sunset's an inferno;
ablaze, in this,
my father's final twilight.
In a sky that slowly burns,
the clouds of fire fade
and leave a darker beauty
to hold the night.
poem by William Kruse
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Anatomy of Rue
The far flung tirade bellowed
into the gray reflection
and the resistance knelt
before its banquet of rue
but sleep was neglected
by the sullen eyes,
and tales were still narrated
into the frosted-glass
fearfully staring daggers
like a hysteric pistol
crying at point blank
knowing well that the only eyes
it can look into are the mirror's
The seasons passed hurriedly
but solace never came with
the showering yellow petals
and the breadth of trepidation
grew like a feral bush of ivies
and its thorns instilled
false-hopes in waiting futilely
for the sound of keys
unlocking my ajar doors
And here, in the decapitation
of my cloud's phantom-musing
I fell into a monastic languor -
limbs falling like yarns
untangled from the web of life
and in the wanton silence
I listened to the veracious absence
of pliant footsteps chasing
the setting of my red cooling star
It gave way for oscillating sequins
of the night to enthuse aeons
to go back to their weaving
of nostalgic poisons and
the monsoon beat like wings
escaping the hunter's net
Obdurately, the bridges held strong
even when the constitutions are burned,
I remember you as who you are
with a stark pang of grandiose
and remembering is no different
than breaking bones just
to prove that you are still alive
And as death sieges my garrison
with myriad auguries sifting through
the spurious altering lights
outside my cellared window,
the casted shadows on my walls
can only bring a cloak of life
into this steel-cold self-incarceration.
poem by Norman Santos
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Mirror Pools Of Split Reflections
life has many mirror...
pools of split reflection...
daylight oil spreads out
across surface mirror
of water oiled in rainbow
diesel dance bright hues
watch ghost dance change
images bend twist stir
in motions across mirror
night tide dawns sweeps
away rainbows moon shines
in reflection pools ghost
image sears in your face
hot passion winds summer
chill still spine needles winter
clouds sweep across moon...
dark upon black ink dark...
penetrate dark formless mirror
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Lambaste Unto Your Shattered Reflection
Softly, the mist came with its trifle attention
lackadaisically promenading in the silver stillness
but nothing in this quiescence is intimate enough
to quell the raving flames of your furnace
shorn openly to desecrate the lacings of faith
I picked up the debris of your blaring tirade,
I cupped the ashes of your sterile lambaste,
I reckoned the vicarious pirouettes with death -
our hands are both tarnished but my soul stifles
under the condemns of your querulous parasol
The godly hands eloquently wove webs with you
until your fulminating repose was a perfect ensnare -
a wreck gnawing on your seams, sifting your dreams
shifting the crooked hands of your maladroit petals
Not now, but little by little, you'll know what I mean
When you catch a glimpse of horror by accident
and your mirrors unveil its light to the effluence
of masquerading faces and words you never knew
The mirrors are muted before your new form
and the light is siphoned by your lamentations
Whilst the phantoms deferred their dissipation
I sing these lamented auguries out of sympathy
and no one is listening but the early dews:
Your destruction cradles a raging tyranny
If I can only convince you to trust me on this
Unmake me a memory, pensive flower
Wither not as you strangle the crumbles of me
with your brambly veins and esoteric maladies
For I have grown abiding to your lingering graze -
A fastidious palette in my lackluster wallflower
poem by Norman Santos
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Motion Sickness
I am tired of the heave and swell,
the deep lunge in the belly, the gut's
dumb show of dance and counterdance,
sway and pause, the pure jig of nausea
in the pit of a spinning world.
Where the body moves, the mind
often lags, clutching deck, anchor,
the gray strap that hangs like the beard
of death from the train's ceiling,
the mind lost in the slow bulge
of ocean under the moon's long pull
or the endless coil of some medieval
argument for the existence of God
or the dream of the giant maze
that turns constantly in and in
on itself and there is no way out . . .
I am sick and tired of every rise and fall
of the sun, the moon's tedious cycle
that sucks blood from the thighs of women
and turns teenage boys into wolves
prowling the streets, hungry for motion.
Let me be still, let me rest
in some hollow of space and time
far from the seasons and that boring,
ponderous drama of day and night.
Let me sleep in the heart of calm
and dream placidly of birds frozen
in the unmoving air of eternity
and the earth grown immobile
in its centrifugal spin, and God
motionless as Lazarus in his tomb
before he is raised dizzily
to fall again, to rise, to fall.
poem by B.H. Fairchild
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I wonder
I stood there waiting for his silent complaisance.
The blue birds sing in a small voice.
My moon hangs in the sky like burning ice.
In my embarrassment I have to look at the wood floor twice.
The lights all around us in the dark feel nice.
The wind blows the sea to the surface.
His gray suit has a most rugid appearance.
My long blue dress flows with his slow pace.
I find his words taking me to a different place.
Passion fills his beastlike face.
The stars up above us are like lace.
My heart really wants to give him a chance.
He holds me in his arms and begins to dance.
While I wonder if this is a real romance.