|
turn me over
by Charlie Morganthat molasses sunrise was always
inside the house, one morning,
i let it out. Sun high, warm.
then two women walked-up together.
selling a form of their Jesus,
held him captured in pamphlets;
from page one until the end.
only measuring today's grin i saw
warm winds cool the scorched
centipede as she fast-crawls
to under-rock darkness, her Eden
meanwhile blank papers, poetry
holds me prisoner, my walls taunt;
answers are stuck in the seams.
and i can't get them shusshed.
the airwaves crackle, saran wrap,
holds tomorrow in place for me,
as i knead the dough of life;
forming a Ginger Bread Man.
who will no doubt offer his head first.
11/29/2009 Posted on 11/29/2009
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by V. Blake on 11/30/09 at 12:13 AM "warm winds cool the scorched / centipede as she fast-crawls / to under-rock darkness, her Eden" That is some brilliant writing, Charlie. |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 11/30/09 at 02:33 AM I concur with Vince. This is brilliant writing, Charlie, absolutely brilliant. :) |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 11/30/09 at 05:50 PM g.d., Charlie, how you DO floor me with your brilliance. Sometimes I have to wear shades just to read your lines. I was already into the shelves of goodies you were baking, savoring the morsels, thinking "I know about that." The Jesussalesmen containing him in their pamphlets, how these pieces of paper contain pieces of me, then that last line! I was hoping you would have some freshly baked goods for me and now, after hours or reading on this site, I am satisfied. Thank God for the Morgan Food Bank - how it does feed the multitudes. Next I await your beatitudes - you - just in from the sea sending out the rest of us - your apostles - to distribute the molecules of your inspiration. You rock, Chaz! |
|
