L.F. dos Santos

Distracted Thoughts


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abound, surrounding

      the peculiar place.

      An evanescent image of a girl

      wearing a white gown,

      erupts the senses every single night.

      Her eyes fixed on the park is steel portal

      waiting for the prince,

      yearning to prize him with the novelties

      She was happy, she was so happy!

      Her eyes glittered with joy under the park is lamp.

      A rose without its sharp thorns,

      innocent and kind,

      carrying a baby inside her.

      Time glided by, and dusk engulfed

      the last ray of light, and all the bad entwined with it.

      Happiness was overflowed by rationality

      and she was unaware, vulnerable.

      In the same bench, she was found,

      cold, lifeless,

      but in her face was traced a hint of serenity.

       My Star

      The cosy night adduces a new world

      in the ballroom everything lures exceptionally.

      The crystal glasses waiting for the champagne to bubble

      caviar, oysters and sushi,

      meals of heaven served by the muses of the show.

      Luxury and lust dwelling in every inch

      the odour of bon vivants fill the space.

      You gentle peril in the labyrinth of emotions

      holding my life in your heart.

      Danger is your heaven.

      You are neither a stripper nor a bad influence.

      You sparkle among the lights

      under the gaze of elation.

      Let the music steer you in delight and grace

      and ignore the crazy looks that crave for nailing their despicable

      fingers in your rosy sweet and delicate essence.

      My eyes rise and fall with the cadence of your movements

      and you are spinning into the future, rotating to kiss the air of

      my stupefaction.

      You will soon leave the puzzle to denude into the safety of my

      embrace.

       The Sun is Veil

      Freezing moments inspiring Poets

      to dictate its prose, wearing this ancestral veil

      the poets embody a mellowed spirit

      that guide them through poignant interpretations.

      Line after line written on silk parchment

      eternal testimonies offering its prose encroaching,

      clearing the tender state of the perpetual bond

      that enslaves the mind of the free spirit.

      This eternal invisible veil crimsoned eloquence

      glorified, extended to the horizon

      exposing the motherly lap of nature,

      the womb of all living creatures.

      A mystery that lies in the core of a concealed fascination

      life spreads itself everywhere germinating in a flurry

      extending its roots, its tentacles to provide nourishment

      from the rulers of the day, the soil, the water and the radiant

      veil.

      The night is radiance illuminated by the veil

      reflected through the white bright orb

      giving the wolves time to release their wavering howls

      barking, howling, whispering to the moon.

      Offering ancient wisdom through the winds

      the night is a stage full of remarkable musicians

      a symphony of sounds, an unusual orchestra

      howling, chirping, and warbling to pay homage to the full

      moon.

      The rotation will be soon concluded

      a new phase is willing to cherish the sun is veil,

      a new day preludes uncoiling routines

      refreshed from a restful night sleep.

       Joan is Bedside Table

      Memories, feelings, substance

      neither inanimate nor dull.

      Sublimely unscripted

      by the owner of the skull.

      Roads travelled full

      of danger, despair.

      Battling the barbarian

      insolent is air.

      An altruist philosopher

      a soldier, a lover, a human.

      A poet of the humble

      a legendary guardian.

      Expressing tolerance

      in the empathy of a task.

      Stanzas scribed in books,

      illusionary thoughts to mask.

      The treasure was his muse,

      the map showed the plan.

      No gold silver or tokens

      only a tiny name inscribed, Joan.

       Thoughts

      Heartbeat racing

      beguiled by the folly.

      I craved for tasting

      the juicy flavour

      of her scarlet blurred lips.

       A Soft Breeze

      A soft ephemeral breeze

      caresses her nude sanctuary

      mellowed by refined thoughts

      her physical state was delightful

      confined in the milieu

      the sound of the surf levitates her senses

      the smoothness of the refined sand

      a prelude of a heavenly womb

      a day that flourishes to be perfect

      adorned with bliss.

       The Road Is Thorny

      The road is thorny and severe

      she tempts to hold her mind focussed

      bustling around.

      Gabbing some excuses.

      Tomorrow will be the same,

      like the ant type genesis

      every pheromone trails