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Robert Zanfad
Poems
May 2010
I Do Still Search
ink flows dull, now, on paper,
a tin tongue reciting
marks made leaden, and clouds threaten
to end dappled light here
even air breathed seems heavier,
breezes lost sweet scents
on descent from heaven,
bearing stale traces of madness
things once destined to dance -
words, fluttering butterfly wings,
bodies of impossible fantasy -
stilled in trite fairy tale trances
awaiting touch some angel's lips,
fragrance wished from heaven sent
to reanimate brittle, nacred hearts,
like magic kisses of a princess.
life has always depended
for its existence on airs unseen;
souls' dance their passionate dreams,
only in waking finding reality ended.
furious cravings found birth
among songs sung by a siren -
I do, still, that distant voice search,
Imagining rare music was mine
Written by
Robert Zanfad
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