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words count
by Charlie Morgan
a pome crawls up my spine
dragging itself, wearing
an overcoat of worry.
getting to the top is part
of the battle, recognition
is the better scrimage.
sorting all the flying words,
grabbing the air, wordless
empty hands clench nothing.
still air settles the dust
and delivers the thoughts
to my head, i mold them.
leaping on the beach carrying
an umbrella of understanding
i shade the parching sun.
04/08/2008 Posted on 04/08/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 04/08/08 at 09:16 PM Yes, and might have half of your umbrella of understanding sir. Very well done. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/08/08 at 11:06 PM I've got a clear picture of you with words flying about your head, and what is that on your shoulder??? Wild, man! Cool last stanza with you shading the sun. |
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