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Invisible

  • 21-02-2009 9:46pm
    #1
    Reilly616
    Banned (with Prison Access) Posts: 374 ✭✭


    Invisible

    He sits alone and murmurs to his friend.
    A silent, silken shroud of smoke descends.
    He’s blinded by the biting black loose end,
    And seeing severed souls as what transcends.
    Unwavering, and stuck in sentiment,
    He hangs his hopes on skyhooks, not on cranes.
    On matters more material, he’s sent
    His own peculiar, precious prayers for gains.
    Now wholly wrapped, engrossed in sulphur choke,
    Oblivious to every thoughtful stride,
    Now netted by an old and dying joke,
    Onwards fore’er he’ll walk with pious pride.
    Great golden gleams of gloaming light are left,
    Of he who’s sadly, lucidly bereft.


Comments

  • #2
    Insect Overlord
    Moderators, Social & Fun Moderators, Society & Culture Moderators Posts: 30,972 Mod ✭✭✭✭Insect Overlord


    By any chance was this poem partly inspired by "The Dark Knight"?


  • #3
    Reilly616
    Banned (with Prison Access) Posts: 374 ✭✭Reilly616


    An File wrote: »
    By any chance was this poem partly inspired by "The Dark Knight"?

    No, lol, not in any way :D


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