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wrestling with words
by Charlie Morganit was only Wednesday,
i had started behind;
much to catch-up on,
much to do, not do.
rain was hurrying to the ground;
in a death-race with other drops.
brings a chill in their free-fall,
my shivers warms the air around.
i started a string of words
someone promptly stole them;
i started another. this time
i put a period. no commas.
i was a typical 20th century man;
one bathroom, a t.v. in each room.
i knew how to spell Algebraics;
the 21st century had questions.
questioning me at every turn;
should i feel like this?
or do that and feel this?
or do this and feel that?
am i slowly becoming my daddy?
instead of his son?
am i being the best i can be?
am i being?
02/10/2010 Posted on 02/10/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 02/10/10 at 11:12 PM There is a time for asking and a time for action. I play the Devil's advocate all the time. My wife says far too much. But I think as we age, at least I think - I think - that times a changing more quickly than we can keep track. Today it's twittle and tomorrow it's tweet. My tongue gets in the way of my eye tooth.... you know. I've used that excuse far too many times. Good write again. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/11/10 at 01:50 AM This reminds me vaguely of something George Carlin did near to the end of his career, and that can only be a good thing. This is great. |
| Posted by Olivia Martin on 02/11/10 at 01:35 PM Another wonderful consideration of the human mind -- what it is to think, to be, to question, to wonder -- from what I've seen in your work, Charlie, you are more than just "being" - your life has an existential quality that can never be surpassed. |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 02/11/10 at 06:16 PM Great write. Alot here. I wish I had the answers; unfortunately, I'm numb. Thanks for this It will stay with me. |
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