Culprit
You are thunderstorms
And I am the faint drizzle
Pouring to moor by little
In colossal fragments
To be taken away
And you took me away
With your quintessential promises
I am inebriated every time
Betrothed to your sporadic gusts
That winnows the opulent line
I drew in the shuffling sand,
If my heart was a hovel house
It would be your commodious home
Albeit, you recklessly swept
The groveling breadth of walls
Now it has gone with the floors
Is this how you decline
Such a parsimonious offer?
You are a mockingbird
The expanse of your wings
Is a continental conquest;
A singsong poetry in a cage
And the entire globe is your confinement
So I had cried for your liberty
And you took away my cry.
Your subterfuge decried
All my caterwauling to the moon
And poured down the southern lights.
I was my poetry once
But you corrupted every line
And with all that was lost
Who then am I?
But a man who was once defined
By the vulnerability of a diaphanous cry
And now defiled in a trifle
By a non sequitur gamble
You are a culprit
With supercilious pliant hands
Of an alluring gilded serpent
Slithering with the echoes
Of a wishing well's
Unrequited promises,
You are a sapid abandon,
My royal usurper,
My connoisseur conqueror,
In a peremptory crossroad.
I may not have jewelries
But I had once a tall hat
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poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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