deepundergroundpoetry.com
Back Against the Wall
Back against a wall I stand,
with my adversaries spread before me;
five, ten, twenty?
I have lost count.
They see the moon from overhead
reflected in my brown eyes;
steady and unwavering.
Think they have me trapped
in this blind alley I did
turn down?
By chance or choice I took the turn;
they’ll never know as
I give them a grin.
Who’s the better man?
Who shall be the first to
come take my blade I say.
They come; either silent or cursing,
Yet still they fall before me.
My blade was destined to taste
their blood it seems.
Death is my partner in this dance, but it is
I who lead and directs my dear partner’s
feet…
…and it is only I who leaves
this dark alley for home with the moon
now behind a cloud and gone from
my dark eyes.
By Philip Wardlow 2012
with my adversaries spread before me;
five, ten, twenty?
I have lost count.
They see the moon from overhead
reflected in my brown eyes;
steady and unwavering.
Think they have me trapped
in this blind alley I did
turn down?
By chance or choice I took the turn;
they’ll never know as
I give them a grin.
Who’s the better man?
Who shall be the first to
come take my blade I say.
They come; either silent or cursing,
Yet still they fall before me.
My blade was destined to taste
their blood it seems.
Death is my partner in this dance, but it is
I who lead and directs my dear partner’s
feet…
…and it is only I who leaves
this dark alley for home with the moon
now behind a cloud and gone from
my dark eyes.
By Philip Wardlow 2012
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