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Her and Him
She fell in love at the first sight
of his prismic points and insights
depicting a plethora of fireworks
consecutively sparkling in the sky.
Whilst he trampled in a delicate stupor
to muse upon her eloquent words
woven like a tapestry to mantle
the unfathomable slumbering firmament
Stocks of unedited ends and tales
smokes out of his hidden system.
Soft punctuation in creative rhymes,
fills me with bliss in every line.
Her unabashed tongue gyrated
to recount the tragedy of felled stars
And the rapier of her caustic words
slurred with a vicarious quiescence on mine
Unexhausted discoveries buried deep,
waiting to be excavated - let it be me.
Golden treasures waiting to be found,
slithering yellow beams for underground
A buoy tethered her unmoored soul
drifting in the abysmal enigma of the lost
and derided salutes, gust after gust, I pried
Surreptitiously to the farcical crooning submerged
His enigmatic stories yet to be untold,
full of promising ideas and thoughts.
Imagination and creativity at its best,
hopefully, I'll acquire the talent he posses.
Her lips need not to part, ink to blot
to saddle the sagacity cradled in her eyes
And what does the sibilance of her sighs
Exhumed from her pantheons, I wonder?
He is - truly - a master of his art,
wording emotions fumbling in his heart.
I'll touch his hands and sing his riddles,
through his words, I'll be singing with the angels.
With a flower tossed unto the remorseful grave -
A blossoming glow of hope; an etude uncurled
like the heaven's flourishing parasol
She, and her salient artistry, extended the writhing lace.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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