Phantom skaters in the park
turn, and glide, and never fall,
faces clouded, figures dark.
They are phantoms, after all.

Turn and glide with awful grace,
leave no measure, make no sound,
out of moment, out of place
all the earthly year around.

Phantom skaters on the lake,
known by no one else but me,
making figures for my sake,
invisibly, eternally.

 

Conrad Geller is an old, mostly formalist poet, a Bostonian now living in Northern Virginia.His word has appeared widely in print and electronically


Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.”

3 Responses

  1. John Kolyav

    Short is sweet! Yes! This poem is not only imaginative itself, but inspires it also. I wished I could also see those phantom figures! The art also is highly matching! Congrats!

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.