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,
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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.
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We behold a common error,
imperfection at its best.
We try to hide our faults,
pretending to win this test.
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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.
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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;
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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
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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.
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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,
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In a room filled with purple flowers,
and petal laden floors.
with silk satin lonely hours,
and hearts with broken doors.
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' 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?
...