Posted by: tsopr | May 31, 2010

A Mute Appeal

A Mute Appeal

Drowned

in the sangraal of silence,
still I see the Lord’s Day, blooming
in my two hands— one is apt

with patience, the other with love.
Time to time, throbbing together

in a world where everything is receding
to a sun-kissed hole. Oh, no one hears
my hunger like incantation of the universe, unfurled
by my hands— one is not to leave the other;

it is necessary, to define
my breath, sighing under the quilt of poetry
in motion. And, without them…I am

but a dodo, wooing the calm clouds
where my sweat like that of Clematis Cirrhosa
is formed into a raging rain, thumping
the old pond where folksy frog likes to summer,
on deaden leaves wanting to sail the river of Imago Dei;

or a bold, blank, crisp clear canvass I’d be,
absorbing the platinum glow of nothingness, taunting
the hake brush of unpatented emotion of an artist
who has gone searching for his eternity— a pink grasshopper
that outshone the midnight rose a countless times
with elegance and beauty, oiled by Mediterranean night full of
lust like that of lovable Bill and sizzling Monica.

Please, tell who would dare…

accept me? If you who also came from God’s dream,
which emerald spring tinges with its innocence
instantaneously merit me, as a crippling cyst ensnared in a frame,
worn-out from hope against hope, only re-energized by
a darken coffee brewed by colourful Mama Africa

who warmly swathed my youth
in her palms, making my ego grow like
a balsam fir with sterling cones.

Ah, I wish that one day—
you’ll sprinkle your soul
with sparkles of morning rays
for you to learn a piece

of me— a page where you can
put your thoughts and decipher the code of
eloquence, transcending your mask
of malignant grin, hanging on the door of my existence,
into noble words that will cuddle
you and your star craving for sanity.

Faith, wear my flesh

and dance the sage sound
of acceptance, so essential to my muted identity
born of a rosaceous womb.

Copyright © 2010 Ernesto Pangilinan Santiago

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Responses

  1. Poetry provides the means for many to express what is not seen by the world at larger or even by those close to us…interesting poem to read.


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