Sequestered From The Emancipated Roses, Deadlocked Thorn
The soigné ultimatum of a flyleaf
stole the peripatetic petals -
in a void facet purged
from floridly trampling texts
How they fandangoed with the flames
and glided transverse frozen brooks
is now a monastic monument
under the sun's stropping gilt
casting a plethora of shadows
that recounts the saccharine antebellum
in a soundless narrative
Amidst this sierra of statuesque memories
I orphaned all my abandonments
humbled and embarrassed, eyes downcast
and unheeding for the celestial supremacy
that waned from my succors,
Flowerless hands scathed by thorns
shearing the obsidian armor
How I loved these roses and its thorns
and avalanched with adulations
as they gyrated with the prairie wind
that pilfered the scent of a garden
manifold of the scarlet corolla of petals
soused in honeysuckled, fire breathing noses
Their bows and nods now desperately
shaking off the pollens afflicted
with the most virulent emotion
The sanguine chandeliers prying
behind the daze of their colours
gave bluster to the parasol-wings and in
the upheaval, they are flowers no longer -
The roots untied to mangle with vicissitude
as my mouth regurgitates ink
from groveling before their banquets
as sly as a firefly around a candle
measuring the undoing of impasse -
always a trifle behind the trail,
running out of wiles, out of time
a scentless hound without a bark
hunting for the smoke of flaming roses
But the dilettante architecture
that gave frame to this lucid dream
is now sullen with lifeless age
brooding for the empty shelves
and the cobweb's noiseless violins
because there is nothing more,
nothing harder to forgive
than the sunrise that shone
with premature mildews
after the flower's withering.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.