Poetry Blogs (ghost)
First, it is only that the tree
is more a presence
less a shadow
beyond my window
then other horizons
light their resting clouds
with a subtle pre-dawn glow
that slowly sets the first gold sun glint
on each high branch above
against a new pale blue sky -
will dawn chasten my succubus
end our companioned time?
that half-felt fragile warmth beside me
seems to s...
Tuesday 5th March 2019 9:34 am
A shadow drawing across my notebook
a guiding hand for my uncertain pen
another mind thinking my thoughts
the ghost writer begins to take over.
Words from a different realm
sentences flowing from beyond
aiding me with my creative void
the ghost writer is taking over.
Holding my unsteady hand
boldly streams of words do flow
happy am I with my expressive frien...
Sunday 17th February 2019 2:14 pm
His trace inhabits every fraction of my mind, lingering like a thousand dollar perfume, lurking quietly in the shadow of anticipations.
What would i sing, if he's every song?
What would i speak, if he's my language?
What would i dream, if he's my only imagination?
Now that he ghosts and I am on my knees, I've been counting days in the loudest silence, wishing upon the heavy rain to cl...
Tuesday 24th July 2018 1:06 pm
A Marriage Of Ghosts
Something old; crumbling bones.
Something new; innocent youth.
Something borrowed; parental beliefs.
A bride forever blue.
Flesh bound to ash and bone.
A knot ties the living and dead.
Union of child and corpse, rotting.
Protection from cursed health and poverty.
Escaping abandonment, in a death shed,
destined by ancestral expectati...
Wednesday 11th July 2018 1:46 pm
There's a ghost in my room
That sings me to sleep
Whispering in my ear
A sweet symphony
With a simple melody
That has a heart mending remedy
But the words that it sings
I can't remember for the life of me
The voice is familiar
But can't put it to a face
I remember something similar
When my mind was in a better state
All I can hope
Is that it never leaves
Because if it were to depart
Saturday 17th February 2018 1:13 pm
This poem is a reverie and contemplation of my mother.
Time and Windows
If the past is a tattered old book,
then why am I a ghost
at my mother's window,
so clear I can sense her mystery,
and her brown eyes, so alive?
Look, I can fly to her
through the high windows
of my memory
until I'm so close that she disappears,
and the curtain flutters silently.
Friday 29th December 2017 10:44 am
I am the tears raining down from your eyes
I am the throbbing pain in your chest
I am something that you can’t see
But something that you can feel
I used to be the person of your dreams
Now I’m just a demon of your nightmares
Is this what I have become?
Just a monster hiding under your bed
I’m standing between the beginning and the end
I’m trapped between time ...
Tuesday 29th December 2015 12:11 am
I stop by your house today
And decide to hide under your bed
Keeping quiet and low
So you won’t know that I’m here
I made these visits a routine now
Because I just can’t let you go yet
Despite my best judgement
I can’t stop being in love with you
I can be something special
Something special in your room
Something that you can notice
Something that you ca...
Monday 28th December 2015 6:27 am
Now, I never been the type to like grand gestures
Foolish attempts to grasp your undivided attention
However, I promise you when this is all over
I’ll have your attention for all eternity
I have done a terrible, terrible thing, my love
A thing that will leave you completely breathless
That will leave your heart a tragic mess
But I promise you, this is for the best
Monday 28th December 2015 6:17 am
Robert you have
you have so secretly
become the ghostly brother of mine
that i did not know i had.
In the picture i have
that mother gave to me
you lie in the bottom left corner
on a wooden bench
barely being able to consider
that a be lovable soul was once even there
by its faded colors it express
And sometimes when I try to recapture
at least one memory I might have of you,
Wednesday 22nd October 2014 2:19 am
Tuesday 2nd September 2014 7:07 pm
I lived my life, most often, like a ghost,
ethereal, drifting from room to room,
a chill chasing me from pillar to post.
Rippling across the senses of those whom,
in solitude, sought meaning in their life
before they passed beyond it to the tomb.
I was not noticed by them, or my wife
who gladly let me rest in silent shade
Sunday 19th May 2013 12:25 pm
Angel from my nightmares.
Devil from my dreams
a grey spirit that weaves
its way through my existence.
What a Dementor does to souls
or a Dalek to a human heart.
Even a superhuman heart
Just ask Logan,
a force so strong
a returning phoenix
could not reignite remnants.
I miss you.
Whatever you ...
Tuesday 19th March 2013 10:50 pm
and now the voices start
those grody sounds that stop your heart
beneath the floor, within the walls
the precedent for dull footfalls
calling to us one by one
with no clear sight of saint or villain
a spectral round of hide and seek
directed by a floorboards creak
each time we search there’s nothing there
but of this guest we’re so aw...
Tuesday 21st August 2012 12:41 am
eidolic dread horses
have scarred your slumber
and even your furniture
has silent, open mouthed, nightmares
over the too soon dead school friends
who never ended their crossings
where there she stoops in shroud
ghastly knelt as in prayer
and you can’t see through the tricks
of light that scream “she is there”
your crumpling chest boiling
as the bones...
Tuesday 21st August 2012 12:24 am
SPECTRE Drifting by my window pane, On a cold dark winters eve. No sign or trace, no echo or sound, No path to follow or deceive. A silent spectre, ethereal form, A hazy memory, from life, 'twas torn. Jealously wanting what now it resents, An anger no mortal can perceive or prevent. A pulsating obsession of hate and desire, Feeding the flames and stoking the fire. Trying t...
Friday 3rd August 2012 1:13 am
Well, content done, cover done just need to find an English printer who won't mess it up! Note that 'mess' was not my first choice of word. The title is 'Pressed by Unseen Feet' taken from TS Elliot's To Walter de la Mare' . The cover is by York artist Richard Barnes.
We are thinking of Launching it on the August Blue Moon.
Saturday 7th July 2012 8:48 pm
( A french poem with english translation )
J'irai allonger ma tête dans la cavité de la pierre,
Pour ne plus entendre les lamentations de la Terre.
L'arbre, sur l'horizon, se déracine,
Et laisse son feuillage s'envoler dans les vents.
Les oiseaux ont laissé leur pavillon d'été.
Je mettrai sur mes épaules le manteau de ta prése...
Tuesday 19th June 2012 11:35 am
(A work in progress & in constant evolution...)
What would say William Blake if he saw this world post-revolution?
What would he say if he had been witness of the greatest cataclysm of
What would he think about universalization when his gaze turned to
Can its spirit be dumb?
He wrote an answer in the form of a lullaby.
Tuesday 19th June 2012 7:37 am