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washing my worries
by Charlie Morganas i log-on, already i'm killing a pome;
it lies fallow on my home screen, lacking.
a pome [when finished] was gonna be
the litmus-test for all poetry. alas.
this exercise is to pay homage to a pome
which can't be revived only survived;
alas, yet again, for i've seen many pomes
fall to their death from such lofty heights.
never getting 'to be laid-down on the page'
instead free-float for days, years even.
pomes are forever falling; makes ideas become
as the Tin Man, rusty, from lack of care.
now, as i leave, go home. see the poor pome,
who, [yes, who, it has life] is withering as i type,
near dormant and panting, Lance Armstrong of words.
then, i'll rest for 'washing my worries' tires me.
06/02/2011 Posted on 06/02/2011
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 06/02/11 at 03:57 PM Oh yes, it can be quite tiresome....but not near as tiresome as proctoring for the EOG test, especially with just one special ed student to monitor......which is what I am doing now (torture) |
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