jerome moore

Touching Delicate Torching Plams - Poem by jerome moore

Reaching my hands out
I hold fire in my palms.
Touching delicate things
destroys a piece of my mind.
i put my hand on the orange silver strands of earth
and watching them gingerly blow my mind,
turning red over orange then black etc
smoldering, when like a spring breaking
I hear a rolling trolly car with cold and shiny bars.
its overcrowded...

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Comments about Touching Delicate Torching Plams by jerome moore

  • (6/13/2013 12:22:00 AM)

    you write poems just as me
    check my poems too
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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 20, 2013

Poem Edited: Tuesday, September 10, 2013

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