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when will it be?
by Charlie Morgan
removed
are the rose-colored glasses i once wore
that blocked the glaring shock of reality
of the world and my place in it.
swirling
is the blood-stream of le seul mot juste
needed to be in your shadowjust
the right word to transport my spirit.
yearning
is my hearts lead to find comfort in mediocrity
in this world of others who pass me flying
with Zephyr-speed to their appointed grandeur.
languishing
am i in this field of need, a river bed of sharp stones
each set just so, cutting my soul, reminding me
that i may be mediocre forever and a day.
hoping
and toiling to be better is my days poison to be
taken in huge doses until time itself would
heal all woundseven my wordlessness.
whispering
will be my poetic panacea for the words that escape
my idle pen and hidden will be their sound
when i dare to finally spit them toward another.
02/27/2008 Posted on 02/27/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 02/27/08 at 06:00 PM You just have to remember, Chaz... this world is not your true home. You're just passing through. Your writing is anything BUT mediocre! Don't sell yourself so short, you precious man, you! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/27/08 at 11:25 PM Nicely said sir! I suspect that most if not all those writing with their MFA's might say without you are nothing. But you tell it like it is in a very understandable unlike many of those so well trained writers. Just keep it up! You certainly have quite an audience here. And one day who knows... |
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