Sunday Morning

Posted: April 23, 2010 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Sabbath bells
harsh message rings;
angels triumphed
somewhere else.

One-way conversations
with God don’t go very well;
like awkward first dates,
you can’t wait to get home
to comfortable friends.
They don’t say much either,
but are loyal and true –
Blessed be bottle and pill.
There are lots of paths
to that sweet oblivion.

Eyes in the mirror again,
pupils so big,
they’re like black water:
ponds of introspection.

In their depths, swims
vivid, pained exhaustion.

I live and I am weary.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s