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what's tomorrow bring
by Charlie Morganspinning the unopened tomorrows on my finger,
some fell under the couch, maybe Maria-the maid
might get one; capture MY tomorrow, that's not fair.
one more lesson learned, too late. life is. so, i.
but i saved Maria the temptation, i lifted the couch,
scarfed it back-up, put it in me pocket--rainy day.
these childish games that last into the sixities,
the rules are always favored toward the young, too,
leave identities all over offices and graveyards.
we are the amoeba of life's protoplasm, oozing over
the planet carrying integrity in a wet paper sack.
we grin to throw you off, elude your concerns.
so what if Maria gets one of my tomorrows?
she won't get that much. she'll get my congress,
my weak leaders, and all she can say is 'gracias.'
04/04/2010 Posted on 04/04/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Amie Golda on 04/05/10 at 05:00 AM Your style has this disjointed, unconventional form to it. But I like it. I really enjoy reading your peices, they have such insight and such fresh metaphors!
"these childish games that last into the sixities"--->this line provides such an astute turning point as well as holds so much meaning. Lovely write! |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 04/05/10 at 07:41 PM i absolutely love stanza 4 |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 04/06/10 at 03:14 PM NNobody knows what tomorrow will bring. I hope that "Maria" would say "gracias". Beautiful write. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/07/10 at 12:36 PM Some wonderful poetic chaos. You do that so well. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/07/10 at 03:59 PM I, too, love the amoeba and especially the wet paper sack. So very true. I do wonder about Maria and hope she has more to say than "gracias". ;) |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 04/07/10 at 04:22 PM Chaotic, yes, but also fascinating...makes me want to know what is going on in Maria's head, Charlie, when she stumbles on a small gem hidden or ensconced under your poetic furniture |
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