Bow and Arrow
A marksman artistry
Mangle with the tentative diffidence
For I am an arrow
And when I am released
It would torment to miss
And sometimes I am a bow
When hesitance prevails
And swoon over my foliage
Of releasing the puissant
Harbinger of perdition
When the taut heaving sought for abeyance
My own gears would arrest
By compulsion to unfurl the curtains
And give away the sparrow-chance
That I am the bow and arrow all the same
Seizing, repulsing, and detaining
My own emancipation.
poem by Norman Santos
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Stride
Reel around the water
where eagles dare prey
for the sirens amidst the weather
Strop your talons
and scream like stars
gnawing at their mattresses
Let your nostalgic song
influx with the white noise
of the highway and the radio
Don't be careful when you tread
the lines of infinitude,
don't fall in exactitudes
And this insatiable verve
will soon wear out
beat it before you die out
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poem by Norman Santos
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Scarlet Bruises
A red heron
Flew above
A red sun
I watched
Its wings flap
Winnowing
The red stains
In the sky
But he was
Tethered to
The blood
Crammed to
The veins
Of his feigned
Endeavor to
Haplessly vie
I watched
The red blotch
As it spread
And conquered
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poem by Norman Santos
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Riding Shotgun
The highway is lined up
with festooning lights
fading every taken mile
I was riding shotgun
shaking my eyes from fake stars
and the bloated moon hanging
with a taunting repose
I moon to go back
into the downtrodden drive
but what is a night of splendor
under transient scintillation
from the white lights
tossed in the highway?
But I rode the shotgun
hauling out jackknives and wings
as I moon over the most distant musing
unbending backward to the reflection
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poem by Norman Santos
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Oblivion
In your empty cellar hangs
a pregnant silver disk,
its penumbral enthralls riveted
in your empty stares and
carousing with your musing
In those void pits unspool
the propiniquity of an early sunset
and the onset of a late goodnight,
the clandestine distance between
the long mourning and
the joviant rebirth of time
And in this thin lace where
the lights and shadows waltz,
I stumble upon the frontier
of the rational space of time;
fragmented in states outside
the pursuit of the silent horizon
poem by Norman Santos
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Dreams
Chandeliers sputtered a flame
Sharp and slender like the footsteps
Moaning with the floorboard's slumber
This light held steadily its constant
Epicenter of proud undulations
Rocking an inebriated heart to sleep
Whilst the soul remained tethered
To contending against fear
With a hathful of daunted sneers
And flowers prancing for the winds
Of vicissitude's circles - eternal was
The quaint photographs left
Like all the phantoms that stroked
The brush from these palettes
Had it all been a long dream?
poem by Norman Santos
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Abandon Your Make-believe Scars
What perverse logic sits
In this carousal of mendaciloquence
That also weighs the saints
To kneel on their grinding pride?
Why can you not see
That you held the hilt
Of the dagger in my back?
Why do you always weep
And never dare pry
Inside the sanguinary havoc
Dangling in your dexterous hands?
Defenestrate my place
From your bogus scars
And as I judge your scornful visage
And molt from this proud wrath
I become one with what
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poem by Norman Santos
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Escritoire
Here we are again
In a tête-à-tête,
A soliloquy,
And I shall again
Fillet my bones
To divulge
My pawned head,
Half smiling,
Half dead.
You are fortunate
To be dead
And not to feel,
And that this message
Wouldn't matter,
And that you wouldn't care
If I scathe your swarthy veneer
As I etch the weight
Into the frail paper
Reaching your
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poem by Norman Santos
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Becoming A Hyena
Recounting the stars,
Picking up the bones,
The night is a child
Tinkering the sky
With innocuous charms
And sedating the pains
That the laughs cannot evade
Reckoning the sward,
Letting go of the winds,
The bleeding is a mother
Cradling the scouring life
With her emollient palm
Dabbing the desiccation
That the guffaws cannot shun
Shooting for the farfetched,
Sinking in the vale,
A dream is a fault in the season
Defining delusion
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poem by Norman Santos
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Disembogued
The night fell asleep
Leaving the ancient ruins
And darkness surrounded
The sore mayhem around
Whilst inside this vault -
A vacuum
Where everything
Sank mordantly,
Unfettered from the tethers
Thriving to girdle
My bountiful unrealities
There was nothing left
Not a poet
Nor a poem
Even more alone
Than loneliness
Save the virulent strains
Of my reality:
Everything
Sinks
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poem by Norman Santos
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