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his quiet is so loud
by Charlie Morgansomewhere sits a man filling a page
with phonemes; joining apples and
triangles, getting them to fit.
i yearn for his shoulder to look over;
his sniffle, a habit of his for years.
seeing the language beaten, submitting.
he sees a mountain on fire at night;
sees the world in flames' shadows.
he's that way, a way so benevolent.
the world: bigger, stronger, pushier
allows his grin to be so distant, yet,
in memory, only a thought away from me.
i wonder about his knapsack. is it large
enough for his travels, small enough for
his stature, distance in comfort of travel.
a fire of life walks with him though; others
stamp it out, for fear. he bears the heat.
and is warmed by the chair of poetic Masters.
his silence, you can hear. it is deafening.
06/24/2010 Posted on 06/24/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 06/24/10 at 04:00 PM It takes a mster to know a master Charlie. So you write about what you know best. A very nice piece sir. |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 06/24/10 at 09:22 PM I love this. You're right- silence is deafening. I HATE silence. |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 06/25/10 at 03:01 AM i will toast this pome with a cup of tea... |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 06/26/10 at 05:08 PM Methinks this master is familiar. The third stanza brilliantly captures him. Yes, truly benevolent. I know not many who measure up to him in that department. And the title speaks our sadness mixed with the joy of remembering and rereading. Bless you, Brother. |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 06/26/10 at 11:25 PM well, i haven't seen mountains on fire, but it makes me want a shot of whiskey to feel the fire in my belly. like george said, it takes a master to know one. please, write on sir! |
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