Long Sable Torch
I hold a long sable torch,
Currently dead to energy,
And put a stare into the mirror
Concavely doming the bulb;
A photonic dart in waiting to misanthropist quietus.
I tilt it up, then down,
Watching many mes extend into view
And gathering into the centre to
Slip; battling eachother fall
Back out of existence.
The third time I lay my distorted mutations
Circled around the dart.
He is subdued; he cannot shoot.
But yet it
And leaked through the glass,
Paining my eyes blinder,
And my faces, supposed to be in intaglio,
The dart's galamatias on their glass plynth.
Comments about this poem (Long Sable Torch by Sandy Player )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley