A Poem by Carlton Rolle

A poem from the book Loose Words in Blank Frames. Visit:


Pastor Tim says the Father will show the way.

But the way bores me to pieces.

As the sermon pushes on, heads roll to the back.

The exercise of dressing takes its toll.

Why must this drag on for so long?

I wonder if miracles exist in practical form.

If so, the A/C should work.

Chilling the air, speeding the pace of the Word.

Instead, simple words become more complex.

Nirvana rises as the floor rumbles of the sinned house.

Spirits mingle effortlessly above our heads.

Calling for relief.

Waiting for the sign.

Providing nothing but worries.

Sharing most of the imminent joy.

Wanting to ride the waves.

Cradling a dynamic harmony.

Backs arched.

Cries shouted.

Heads held high.

If they keep the Devil under their feet, blasting the Word won’t bring His joy.

Who do they think they are?

Sluggishly I gaze on.

© 2015 Carlton Rolle

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Added on February 20, 2015
Last Updated on February 20, 2015


Carlton Rolle
Carlton Rolle

New York City, NY

I write because I must. Keeping towards a way to seek the message. Something that we all need, trust, and love. To speak an existence. To understand something's life. To work on hope and companio.. more..