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in my closet, looking for answers
by Charlie Morgani exist in a time warp; always strung
to an unagreeable tautness of E chord.
and twanged-on by some irate woeful waif;
whose Monet-vision of the world guides him.
the lane is unlit and overhung with moss;
respiring in the liquid, Louisiana-like air.
we traipse, as if on safari in the Outback;
called back by the same clock of time;
i count my waiting minutes and wonder:
for what is it that i await? a return.
deificaton of sea-life and Greek gods?
death and it's final reward. peaceful rest? 11/08/2010 Posted on 11/08/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Laurie Blum on 11/09/10 at 08:05 PM This is a very thought provoking piece, I was drawn in by the first stanza but by the third one I really felt the serious tone of this poem. Very philosophical. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 11/09/10 at 10:34 PM I sense just the edge of something on the tip ofyour tongue. Is it impatience? Frustration? Disgust? Or maybe I'm just looking at your world through my own eyes again. And then the counting, always the counting. Are you sure you're not a mathematician in disguise? Not that counting ever really helps me make sense of it. Heh. |
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