|
never to arrive
by Charlie Morganthe day swung into night, everso, everso.
i lazed languidly, as to appear a bloodhound,
tired from the hunt.
and new smells tickling my nostrils have me
interested, but too tired for a chase.
i quell a champion's heart to a proper beat.
i lie down, slowing-to-idle the engine of life.
comic crosses cover my eyelids as i repose;
awaiting always for the dream of falling.
only to arrive dead.
12/26/2010 Posted on 12/26/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by V. Blake on 12/27/10 at 04:23 PM "i quell a champion's heart to a proper beat." -- Absolutely superb. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 01/07/11 at 03:28 PM Charlie, I do so relate to this piece. I confess I do not like the title - not because it is inappropriate for the poem - not at all. But because I wish to avoid facing the reality it predicts. The bloodhound trope is apt, poignant, and invasive - me not knowing if I am the chased or the hound. Bloody real to me, my friend. |
|
