mark anthony st. rose

mark anthony st. rose Poems

As the sun behind the horizon descends,
bestows an orange upon the sea
makes the water glitter like gold,
but suddenly this fades,

This facebook generation seems to think life is one big photo opt.
It seems as if they are obsessively in love with themselves,
trapped in a narcissistic shallow bubble as it were.

We behold a common error,
imperfection at its best.
We try to hide our faults,
pretending to win this test.

Oh eternal everlasting Sublime,
cleanse this filthy heart of mine.
Remove my sins in which I wallow,
so that I may start a new life tomorrow.

Angels beckoned by the sounds of silent bells,
as if it fills the air with the irony of harmony,
and a symphony that crescendos towards heaven's hills.
There is a sweet silence filled with Nature's sounds;

I write poetry,
I write poetry because silence is what my soul speaks,
And this silence is deafening like the cries of pains
Emanating from a fallen world and rains

I awake to the sun of the sombre morn,
ten thousand pieces my heart is torn,
like fallen petals on a windy land,
and parting kisses blown by my hand.

My Indian beauty from Sangre Grande
Came and met me in lonely city.
Now I was African and all too pure,
But still our love was sealed and sure,

In a room filled with purple flowers,
and petal laden floors.
with silk satin lonely hours,
and hearts with broken doors.

' Hail Mary, mother of God' i begin my prayer,
but dumbly the statues watches without a care.
and i clutch my heart in my despair,
wondering is heaven really there?

Beauty her body captures like a prisoner,
she walks with a grace that defines her,
well- fitted into a suit of perfection's flesh,
she passes the time she passes the test,

Into a God I slowly become,
my hands transformed an angel eagle wings
and like a bird I soar
like stars suspended

When a star falls from sky,
And darkness temporarily wins
Over imperishable light,
And angels tears like diamonds flight

I've hurt all my hurts,
and cried all my cries.
I've embolden my soul,
from all your evil lies.

I want to epitomize my lines,
so it would touch the pinnacle of time,
or so that it may even escape time,
immortalizing my words into something Divine,

Who killed Sunshine?
Tore this rising globe from the sky,
with many sad voices asking-why?
Now, there is no sunshine when she's gone,

If I could find the right words to convey my love,
I would write them in the stars the skies above.
For pages too temporary, too finite, too frail,
though generations lasts still cannot break mortality's veil.

When naked bodies collide
in hot flashes of pre-orgasmic fervour,
and sheets come alive
with animated dancing scented flavour,

I had found you on a lost golden day,
not looking for love not wanting to stay,
my adrift upon a broken plank lonely shores,
you dived in and rescued me opened your doors

She looked like an Indian goddess,
Who danced in the hallways of my dream’s sweet splendour,
Whispering my name from the abyss of love,
Touching my heart turning the surreal real.

mark anthony st. rose Biography

Poetry chose me, I didn't voluntarily enter this path. However after much reluctance I gave in and now I am transformed by poetry and writing on the whole. I have written many books, but book so far i have published one of them it is entitled Heaven's Secret. Anyone who wishes to contact me can do so by emailing me at But there is more to my story. i can't explain most of it just like the rays of the sun, but i could feel it. It is almost as if i have been born to write; a poet not manufactured, but planted in the earth; one hundred percent natural. I remember when I was about fifteen it was like a poetic energy just took hold of me i couldn't stop writing. i had written in a copybook about fifty poems in the space of two weeks. it was like i was in a trance or something. i called the book 'behind the curtains of life.' But what was more baffling was the fact that i never really read any poetry or liked any poetry for that matter. yes it was truly strange. But in retrospect i see where this was probably my inner self hinting to me my purpose. that is, what I should be doing on this earth. what i was born for. what my soul was implanted in my body for.)

The Best Poem Of mark anthony st. rose

Sunset And Sunrise

As the sun behind the horizon descends,
bestows an orange upon the sea
makes the water glitter like gold,
but suddenly this fades,
and the sun disappears
leaving a black upon the sea.

But wait! the moon appears,
a different light,
mellow upon the sea.
Now silver is the sea like spotless snows
in a pleasant delight.

A cloud then appears and the moon conceals
the light dim disappears and never returns.
Suddenly the golden sun appears
upon the sea its light once more shines.

copyright@ 1994 by Mark Anthony St. Rose. All rights reserved.

mark anthony st. rose Comments

Apphia Garcia 06 October 2011

Hi Mark I have been looking for someone of my nationality on this website and I found you its nice to see someone else from Trinidad on. I Enjoy you work keep writing. Hopefully you will enjoy mine as well. take care

4 0 Reply
Destry M. 21 March 2010

I know what you mean about the transes. Some times I couldn't write to save my life, other times it seems like all I see are words. I go to bed looking for sleep, but all I dream about are words. It feels like if I don't write them down, i will spontaneously combust. I have always enjoyed words, I love to read, I love how words are like art, and how beautiful a picture they paint. They are like music to me. it sounds crazy, I know.

4 0 Reply

mark anthony st. rose Quotes

God is axiomatic; he needs no definition nor explanation. When you doubt just take a long look around you.

True education begins and ends with self-knowledge. Therefore like the true self it is boundless; it has no end.

There can be no higher purpose nor duty than to share and teach love.

Life is a journey of mind. And man is the vessel that carries this mind. Therefore based on this premise it is safe to conclude that man does not evolve, but mind does.

If earth cannot touch the sublime edges of Heaven, then I propose that we bring Heaven down to earth so that all men may taste even temporarily of its infinite sweetness.

The more we adhere to and defend our political system, the more we become prisoners of our colonial past. But we must resolve to become fearless forgers of our future, my brothers and sisters.

The issue of Christ dying for mankind, and the view that we must accept this reality in order to be saved, may be a little skewed in my opinion. What the symbol or reality of Christ's life and death teaches to me is the issue of self-sacrifice. Thus, it is through this action we are thereby saved. That is the real crux of the matter. Amen.

When you serve the Universe, the Universe in turn serves you. This I have tested to be true.

The truest pursuit is the pursuance of truth.

Man may make me a slave in this world, but God will make me a king in his kingdom, once him I humbly serve.

What if our eyes are not really eyes, but may be more accurately regarded as optical functional organs with the sole purpose of aiding and facilitating our sojourn on this terrain. Rather; if our true eyes, that is to say, the means of sight for our very fundamental identity or entity lies in something less obvious yet more profound: like mind or consciousness.

Dear Mr. Atheist, I do respect your opinion and views, however I prefer to live my life believing there is an eternity.

Nurture the mind with thoughts of love and compassion, then sit back and watch it grow.

Mankind does itself a great disservice if they relegate inspiration from God only to the ancients.

Genius is not how much you know, but is how much you love.

Giftedness is not static, but is a fluid concept that varies with paradigms.

Every moment lies a potential opportunity in which one has to qualify his soul.

We can experience infinity in the moment, but first we need to slow down.

Giftedness is not static, but is a fluid concept that varies with paradigms.

We are often taught how to make it in this world, but we are seldom taught how to make it out of this world. For it logically make sense as death is an inevitable destiny for all of us.

mark anthony st. rose Popularity

mark anthony st. rose Popularity

Error Success