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catching the wind, undressing
by Charlie Morgana field o' bent stalks read the wind,
turn their pages back to a lazy shoulder,
offering their backs to the wind's face.
that made the aspens all turn, looking
over their shoulders, shuddering;
they've presumed i'm not of them.
i's rapidly walking thru centuries of time;
shrugs from generations before tried to trip me;
through each crack's gape, i never looked down.
cold for one day. makes me wonder.
what would a warning of doom look like?
a comet's tail, a slow freeze. a baby?
i am now a changling; once a child-boy-man;
now i am the author: papaw-who-tells-short-tall-tales.
i keep taking toys out of the box; still, it's full. 03/22/2010 Posted on 03/22/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 03/22/10 at 11:16 PM Another wonderful write Charlie. I just love it. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 03/23/10 at 04:16 AM oh that last line is so rich, Charlie, as is the stanza it is in. Yes, the trip from child-boy-man seems so quick, doesn't it? |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 03/23/10 at 03:02 PM Wonderful write- I love the last stanza (child-boy man). Perfect! |
| Posted by Joe David on 03/24/10 at 04:05 AM yes indeed. not a word wasted. jesus left the temple and his disciples were arguing over architecture. "what would a warning of doom look like? a comet's tail, a slow freeze. a baby?" an obsession with tail revealed, freeze is some kind of pot reference, and you call every female baby. use of the word short caught my eye because of it's elusiveness - probably indicating a sublimated aversion to talking about height. but like all the others i LOVE the last line. go to Olive Garden for the endless salad and soup. too much is not enough. take out all you want and it is still full. Hemingway stops writing knowing what the next sentence is, and overnight his creative well is replenished - he writes the sentence and the pen keeps going, or in his case the typewriter. and on that note i will stop - right up front in my mind competing with Hegelian triops is knowledge that i will see my grandson this weekend for his sixth birthday. Life is Good and it continues. I love you Brother. joe |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/26/10 at 03:11 PM I love this almost as much as the picture of you and him on your home page. Read Joe's comment and it reminded me of you. Poor guy, you are rubbing off on him. :-) I can definitely see that little boy in you, my man. I would love to see you telling him one of those short or tall tales. But I will settle for great poems like this one instead. You are a papaw par excellence. Thanks for sharing your love with us... one more time.... |
| Posted by Amie Golda on 03/30/10 at 04:04 PM "i keep taking toys out of the box; still, it's full." I love this image right here! Great write, unique tone combined with cleverly paired words. Well done. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/30/10 at 06:49 PM Love the nuances of the wind, the shoulders, and your evolution. Loved the toy box, still full. Thank you! |
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