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one night
by Charlie Morgana blueish Moon lured me into it;
was a skillet of dreams, spilled.
and me warming my hands by my engine
of six decades, churning away, at idle.
soon there will be solace, a quiet.
it will merely be a lull of sand.
then the Coriolis Effect will cause
me to think all of you are leaving me.
like two kids on a roundabout, opposites.
never getting to meet each other. sad.
and when that sharpest arete punches a hole
in that buttermilk Moon and love pours forth,
i will drink of essence, cool, pure, love.
sated, i will then begin my search for the switch. 07/30/2010 Posted on 07/31/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 08/01/10 at 04:04 AM My twice visit to Wikipedia helped me get the deeper meaning of this. I could go on and on about arete, but I have this little rectangle to deal with, not to speak of Coriolis Effect - which put me back at Pasadena High in Mr. Wylie's physics class. But I get the sense of moving away from those in this circle but then noticing the silver satellite of of their love and returning there to be with them. What gifts the night has for us... eh? Beautiful pome, buddy. |
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