In This Morgue

In this morgue, this dismal place,
A blind beggar hangs his face
By the mirror on the wall
In the stinking bathroom stall.
Sipping brandy in the loo,
He remembers what to do:
Look for a new walking stick,
One that will not clack or click.

Sideways now he tilts his head,
Living man among the dead,
Happy man with no tattoo—
Love will show him what is true!


Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Whirligig #254
More Writers’ Pantry #8 at Poets and Storytellers United


Posted on February 23, 2020, in light verse, Rhyming poetry, The Whirligig and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. Wonderful rhyming in this one. Being a living person among the dead really changes one’s perspective of the world, doesn’t it?

  2. Your poem captured my imagination and I will remember it.

  3. Oh, how bleak! (How vividly so.) I’m glad of the final, redemptive possibilities.

  4. I love the beat of the words in your poem and the picture you paint so descriptively..


    I feel like I’m in Alice and Wonderland. What fun not to know what will happen next!

  6. Love does that. :}
    Anna :o]

  7. The tattoo combined with morgue references made me think of WWII, suggesting rather grim things.

  8. Indeed, love–especially the love of self–is very good at showing us where to go (if we look).

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