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day after day
by Charlie Morgana motherly anguish is deep in her eyes;
bubbling under the skin a volcano of pain
that is exponential and has to burst.
slowly a smile emerges, warming to all.
shadows dancing in the umbra of curls
allowing one step at a time in her soul.
grapes smashed. harvest day. blue toes
becoming the gestapo for good wine.
pulverize the young, wanton grapes.
soon, an evening meal fills empty toes
as the sun lays it's head on the vines,
awaiting at rest for the night's frost.
a poet once said life is day after day
and vintners agree as the sky becomes
a light saturne,a rose, then a deep red.
and a Mona Lisa smirk is breathing in her
as the claret swirls on her tongue's tip
and gives her body a relaxing support
to the lazy day, a day after a day. 05/05/2008 Author's Note: ...kudos to morgan d. hafele for the day to day ism, which i promptly stole, another day, eh? morgan...
Posted on 05/05/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 05/06/08 at 05:42 AM Quite different from Morgs's, but I am fond of both. I love the last stanza in particular. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 05/07/08 at 05:43 AM Sometimes it feels even moment after moment in the reality of living it, eh? I've visited and re-visited this, unable to really put my finger on what it is that I'm drawn to here. The image of the smashing grapes, making a sweet wine out of the toiling in the fields, perhaps. Or the Mona Lisa smirk (I prefer to think of it as a grin...hehe) and the sensuality of swirling the claret on the tip of her tongue, perhaps. Of course, I do so especially adore, "as the sun lays it's head on the vines." *happy sigh* Or maybe I just like stepping into this day after day for the escape of it...at any rate, lovely. |
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