Odyssey
Proud admirals
dressed as belligerent
soldiers of the
platoon of defiance,
assailed to the torrents
in the stygian abyss -
a vertical horizon
between the albatross' wings
The unconquered expanse
instilling lamentations
in the rain's
vapidly prancing winds,
dreaming of a place
where the weather
used to reside
like a lazy sun
tucked with a pistol
under his mattress
Now chiming with
the pure sounds
of oblivion's cavern of bells
breaking in tacit dungeons
uttering clandestine volitions
but the anchors
lost the iron linkages
with the patina losing
its adamant sheen
through its own fissures
Without a moor
to the placid ocean
and the ripples
of different waves
they still wager for
a stupor of change
unbeknownst to the crags
that mangled
with the blind compasses
and the countless miles
rummaging in all directions
A barking blare
that lulled a serenade
In the semblance
of the harps occupying
a siren's mouth
drags the capitans
out of the track
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poem by Norman Santos
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