Norman F. Santos Poems

Esoteric eyes
Of withering vines
Stifle to vie
Pardon from lies
...

Glacial icicles heralding the season
Pangs sharply with the shuddering
Of icy sharpness, sepulchral sensation
That faints along with the listening.
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In a bleak stallion of the night’s cape
A rider saddled in a Queen’s grace
Hurdling in circles of dexterous resilience
Daintily wading the mirthful effervescence
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If you’ll find yourself in the midst of fierce winds and glacial lances
In the scrutinizing cornea of the storm where darkness dances and prances
You would hear a rummaging voice, a wail yearning to fulminate
In your clasped ears devoured by fear, sore enough to deteriorate
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You’re a cellar, a dune, a pit
And if my sparse body can fill you in
I will suffer gladly, you can have me
With your knife in my guts
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Black blood, dark kiss
Winter resides in your lips
Amidst the forlorn woods
The frost benumbs the wounds
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With the sun obliquely gliding between your dusk
Raising its head to cast shadows over ivory tusks
Gnawing with stale porcelains and phantasms
At the bottom of the swelling sundered chasms
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In another extensive stretch of a night
Where your scarce body is drained of kinetic vigor
The thin frame too close to each other
You’ll realize you’re but hollow calcified bones
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Hello Stranger,
Are you still on the line?
How long had we been ghosts?
How far had we gone?
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Do you know what basks behind your ears?
With your supple hair of lightning tucked lightly
Do you hear the sirens’ screech and fluster you with fear?
That you reduced yourself in the speculum of a melody.
...