Late Sunday Afternoon...Or Early Evening

Poem By Amberlee Carter

right now someone
measures his portion of daily bread, drinks
the wine from last year's crop and knows
whichever way the balance sways,
his piece of grave will outweigh
the amount of his craddle.

Comments about Late Sunday Afternoon...Or Early Evening

What a concise, beautiful, and meaningful poem!

3,5 out of 5
5 total ratings

Other poems of CARTER

Crawling In My Skin: The Eternal Itch

I take sleeping pills
to anoint the ache,
stay awake long enough
to feel myself float

...Shaving My Legs

....shaving my legs to enya,
it makes me feel clean.
you've got free long distance-
you should visit more often.

Between Two Griefs

last night while I
played in another realm of consciousness,
I felt your hand move against mine,
as if you were reaching out

nser eEding hHre (RrRted)

We were never
traditional lovers-
but we were
very good at being

Chronic Observatioin Disorder

The quiet wait, contemplate,
the scene- everything it contains,
The mundane, the magic,
the vibrant, the apathetic-

After Erratic Encounters

I woke, awkwardly
in the dim light of morning
to find the world hushed in newborn snow.