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a day is questions
by Charlie Morganwhen i write with my dreamy
synaptic pen, the scribbles are hard
to make out in the morning.
maybe if i wake-up earlier
i can snare them before they
become mere smudges
from last night’s drool.
sitting on the old boat dock,
seeing my feet dangle over the water’s top,
inches away from the wet, i see my wrinkles
slowly disappear and i’m 12 again--wish i was.
and i wish daddy was here too.
looking out from under
the bed of perception,
i have to squint and flinch
when the shoes get too close.
heat waves wiggle the distance
like a hula skirt and holds all
the warmth until dark.
the air seems heavy with all
the unanswered questions
that accompany life.
03/09/2010 Posted on 03/09/2010
Copyright © 2024 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 03/09/10 at 05:42 PM GREAT write, Charlie! Love the last stanza. Life is like a puzzle. When you finish- you die. This piece speaks to me. Someone once told me not to ask questions if you do not want the answer. Thanks for this. Excellent as always! |
| Posted by June Labyzon on 03/09/10 at 07:00 PM Love the second stanza Charlie....good read. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/10/10 at 01:06 AM I like the dreaminess of this, the slow glide from cobwebby head in bed to the dock with thoughts of daddy to the lazy days of summer. I enjoyed this slow waltz with you, buddy. Thanks. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/11/10 at 02:59 AM Love the "questions", the "drool" ;), the "bed of perception", and what those heat waves do. Cool, Charlie. Thanks! |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 04/25/10 at 01:30 AM From waking to bedtime, thoughts tumble, always ending in questions. The life of a thinker and a romanticist too you've captured in this philosophical poem. |
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