Causatum Of A War

From the insipid air
Slings a caterwaul
A gauche cry of war
Oozing with chutzpa
Slathering the fears
Of losing a war, thus,
Losing everything;
The drive to describe
What everything means

The snow was dishabille
From the vivid sun light
But it nevertheless purges
The sanguine to froze
Pristinely, grotesquely
As the scene reflects
Where everything moves
Slowly but incautiously

This is my dying day

My hands are stung
By a riving shrill
My chest is cleaved
Deep into the scant
Shape of my back
And these sensations
Are hard to believe
When my eyes are basked
In your lovely smile

A snow fell into your
Unabashed eyelashes
And it resembles your
Elusive crystal tears
But your grin is not lying
Floating in a consummate
State of ecstasy

The blade flickered
And the numbness dissipated
Your lips fell flat
In a taut hollow line
As you caught me in askance
Watching you from beside

There's a sea in my eyes
And a red cesspool
Gathering at my feet

I fell in the ground
Capped with stark petals
I thought of making a snow angel
But the my hands are fastened
In the hilt, with the agonies
Unspoken

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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