Casanova

If I tell you
That I will take you to a castle
Buried in the sands,
Would you surmise
The esoteric grotesqueness
Of my chagrined empire
With walls of odes,
Firmament of naked
Despondence, incandescence,
The portcullis left ajar
For the meandering souls
Astray in the garish
Coruscations of the sun
And the feline yawning
Of the tinkering crystals
In every chandelier
Tells a tale
And caress a condole
More supple than the velvet
Curtains and carpets
The chiffonier that will carry you
In the caroming susurrations
Of the bland slurs
Of grandiosity

Will you slew in the rendour
Slopes of enigma?
Will you keep the portmanteaux
Bolted from the panorama
And swath the corona
Of the feral castigations
Of bigoted clovers
With four leaves
Establishing the thwarting
Of our weary eaves?

I shall wait
It shall stay
Till you trample in the pavements
Of unruffled cobbles
And quaff the gambles
In the goblet
Of perpetual fire.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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