L'Angley S Delmonte

For Time

Glory happens
In the places
That are reserved for
Sitting in the grimy corner
Three lines into one
Shaking hands the fury of the storm
Cupped around
The parted end of humanity
Fire, try feebly to touch
Burn my fears
Black shadow of green colour
Dances across
Sulks, if you will
Lined paper,
Pressed like chewed, hardened gum
To the wall
Nine black tiles
For every red one
Sometimes stub of pencil
Just enough to be pocketed so

No one knows

A feeble sort of novel
Stream of unconsciousness
On the back of the
Black plastic door.

Listen to this poem:
Poem Submitted: Sunday, February 20, 2011

Add this poem to MyPoemList

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about For Time by L'Angley S Delmonte

There is no comment submitted by members..

Roald Dahl


Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?