"St. Patrick’s Day!!
Oh! thou tormenting Irish lay
I’ve got thee buzzing in my brain,
And cannot turn thee out again.
Oh, mercy! music may be bliss
But not in such a shape as this,
When all I do, and all I say,
Begins and ends in Patrick's Day"

“Amorous is this anguish novel of the woes of fervor,
It is not greatness I see within myself but that of others,  
Touching skin hedonistic for our lingering infatuation,
All these interlude cataclysm of such a bereavement,

Beyond this place of wrath destruction and tears of woe,  
Looms the horror fronds of pain as gesture abhorrence,
Pleasures awaited amour claimed lost rapacious desires,  
These days have ebbed as Love's swell was checked,

Could earth be sequestered in some obscure place?
Let your shadow lengthen the horologe in the meadows,
I am besieged by the enlightening celestial naiad beauty,  
This was possibly the most euphoric point of my life,

She the begin of a light that was once my beguiled penumbra,
Her skin seems to have the deluded eyes always my eternal allure,
Mesmerism is what you are when in front of me my allure,  
I can feel your soft hands and the tender lips upon mine,

Lonely nights without you as my dreams have surrounded you,
Dreams surround I can see and touch your face long embrace,
The contour ambiance of her body withering serpent is penumbra”
By Andrew Guzaldo 03/15/2019 ©

“Greater than the acquisition of poetry I cannot envisage,
Poetry enters ones heart and soul brings life to one’s melancholy,
It can come into your life leaving you with a promise of future,  
So that one will be clutched to affiance of poetic peroration
I am now that which is clutched to such an affiance,
As that of a nest in the tree clenched to sapling twigs,
And so I shall vow to accept this affiance for all perpetuity”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 1/29/2018 #154 Posted HP

“Coastline and the ghost mirage as I sometime see afore,
Seashore of such perfections that linger into the morning,
Shoals in the distance I imagine things we once dreamed of,
I beseech to thee come and join me from this place of ours,

In my alluring may you fall on me from wherever you are?  
Secluded aft the deep inside where emotions stay hidden,
Occulted enigmas of love and secrets can no longer obscure,
Reverberated nucleic flow deep within my soul where you remain,  

Dubious poetry gives a sense of affinity to ones love torn soul,  
Celestial cosmos and is a sense of beyond the feeling of pain,  
As the ocean once whispered its breath sand across our bodies,
Perhaps best to have you belong in my unknown sentiment in life,  

Perhaps one day we shall meet on an islet that we cannot assent,
You can whisper your words of amenity as you epicarp my agony,
Cosset fervently in your arms as I’m washed of my indiscretions,
The last cinders of the autumn air will spend nurturing the winter,
I as a sybaritic will follow you in this our silent observance,
  By Andrew Guzaldo 03/03/2019 ©

“May I rest again with her in my chimera of the night?  
My pain of such love will subside with my reverie,
Fervor and despair seem to endeavor pertinent restlessness,
Night procures a mystical quintessence to the heart and soul,

Exotic to me are all the rationale as to why you belong,
Comatose of you beside me whether in body or soul,
May music once again make my eviscerated soul dance?
Only you will live in my dreams as they drift me away,

All that is reticent in life and in our annals of time as one,
We shall go over the water of time in the shadows of travel,  
As we travel through the shadows with neither sun or moon,
An unholy anointing of our least desirable possessions,

At night the world the wind will spin out their destiny,
The seclusion of mountain peaks veers ever so slightly,
Mountain peaks where alleviation is all that is heard,
Empty trees conveyed acclivous and less oceans of brine,

My soul seeks solitude and the mystical perplexity of aspiration,
Space stars poetry in this place the moon and ebony vapors,
These are the copious words of a poet has lost love of soul,
I can only caress the thought of her in my acclivious dreams”
By Andrew Guzaldo 1/09/2019 ©

“The night is raven as you  peer that analytical stare,
It is in this way you are blinded by your own eyes,
Sanguine of the gods that exist for all their acumen,  
As that of an labyrinth mechanism turning day to night,

Beside the bonfire I think of all that I have descried,
Now no usual noises only the unusual or unexpected,
In autumns that we were with morn dew and argent sun,
That is now left of yellow not gold burnt fibrous leaves,

Of how the world will be for still there are so many things,
That I have never seen in all the forests in every season,
If I should live in a coppice and sleep underneath a sapling,
By a bonfire in different lands thoughts of my incongruous life,

No coppice of saplings that I could not make a glorious home,
I go where the old odeon gather decorous worthy and robust,
The world’s society has long foundered people throughout time,
And they would not sigh and tremble and vex me with a song,

Struggle is harsh and I come back with eyes fatigued,
Gusts upon my hair as I sit beside a crackling fire,
The times from having seen the unchanging earth afore,
So you may take of that elegant rose leave me with a thistle,
For they know not life without the dendrite to wither”

By Andrew Guzaldo  01/05/2019 ©

“Devotions reveal fervor subdues yet never conclude,
The pleasures that interim of a lost romance,
Desire now greed no ecstatic long nights,
Now my mind is fulfilled with past gander of delicacy,

Of what the summer or the springtime provided,
For love and time past hath given thee leave to rest.
No stature is higher than the beauty of silence,
Silence in my gloomy of days your laughter freed all,

The soil far off times removed from the afore charts,
And where the marks of once were to find thy hoped port,
On distant shores east or west alas a last resort,
Those angst and hath left no lamp to guide my love,

May you lead me to a garden of your gratification my dear?  
Do not say that the element of grief in hearts pulsation,
I will never divest my senses of the elation of solitude,
When images of sunlight dissipate I will languish in the,
Glory of darkness”  
By Andrew Guzaldo 2/01/2019