His Second Decade
An artisan of surreal noises
Made of groans and chortles
Making words that sat like lead
pounce like a spear of chains
Pulling the vaults to break
And let loose a paunch soul
With a flagrant gaunt face
To become the visage
Of his subtly dubbed art.
While it's easy to toss
White roses on a grave
It is his eloquent etude
To exhume its blossoming.
Welcome to your second decade,
Undoubtedly your golden age,
Now flourish in your parade.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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