Cloud of Ghosts
The air was thick with ghosts, ghosts from Greece, ghosts from Rome, and modern ghosts from home.
There were ghosts of tradition, ghosts of faith. Illuminated were many ghosts but no wraiths.
Her plumped lips were beckoning all and we tried to admit nothing, not the ghosts, not her, nor I.
None of us were living, except the ghosts, and none were willing to die.
My heart pounded like...
Saturday 2nd May 2020 12:07 pm
Recent Comments
Red Brick Keshner on for the Unbroken
5 hours ago
Trevor Alexander on Favorite Poet
8 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Just Smile!
11 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Just Smile!
11 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Start Monday
13 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on When Tyrants Fall
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The 'Perfect Son'
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on BLUE PLAQUE FOR YOUR MP
14 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Poem Of Life
16 hours ago