Biography of Lucifera Santez
well not too much to tell, i love reading and writing.
and i am more of a closet poet.............
my best friend pushed me to write and she is pretty scary if she puts her mind on something.
recently someone told me i need to elaborate more about me.
there is nothing special to elaborate that's all.
i have two brothers, a younger sister.
i started reading novels when i was 11.
my first one was Jules Verne.
i am 18 and way more mature than i was at 17.
i love watching movies, i love rain.
i have not been at my place of birth, Belize ever.
i would like to go someday.
you could say i am black sheep of my family..
my dad's engineer, mama is a teacher(teaches chemistry)
brother's a doctor.
my granddad was one too.
grandma is high school drop out.
i guess this much is worth knowing.
and at last note...
i hate my ex friend Natalie, lying cheating *******.
and my best friends are the tyrants who push me towards excellence.
my brother appreciates whatever i write, even when most of the time he just gets time enough to spare a glance.
Lucifera Santez Poems
A Face To Remember
Smile with me, Don’t shed a tear, My pain is enough, Your agony,
Color of darkness, Hue of sorrow, Shade of pain, Embodied in that bloom,
Breath Of Life
Gone was his breathing, Gone were heart beats, The silent pulses, Screamed of his decease.
Gleaming pond of maiden tears, Adorned by wildflowers on its banks, As butterflies rush on blooms, She watches them from shining pond,
If my heart would have been page, It would burn to ashes right now, If my love would have been cage, You would have died from too much affection,
The raven locks, trailing on silk, Long lashes adorning his closed eyes, His beautiful full lips sigh, Part in love, part in sleep,
The stark whiteness is all I see, Perhaps it’s just reflection, Of conflicting emotions in me, Every facet with a brilliant glow,
Bruised, battered, broken and scared, I lie on concrete,
What Is Love?
What is love? Is it the increased heartbeats? Is it tilting of your world, Or perhaps an amorous kiss.
Your hair, Your eyes, Your lips, Your smiles,
Cloaked in the mists of emerald, A drop of rain on your lips, A gleam in your ageless whiskey eyes, You arch in me,
Bunch Of Roses
I walk along his grave, the same obsidian headstone gleaming in sun his name carved in archaic letters
Song Of Thornbird
She flies from her nest, In search of a thorn tree, She can’t rest Until she has found one finally.
Love You Wife
I am curled in a ball, Shivering with rage, And he crouches in front of me, His eyes saying all
Running hastily in the gardens
How I fell and scraped my knees
Amid those roses and hyacinths
And I used to cry
When it hurt too badly
You would hear it and rush out
Kissing my hurts and drying my tears
Giving me pink cool aids I loved so dearly
You used to carry me in the house