Poetry Blogs (2018, ghosts)

Above The Light Of The Morning Star

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Above The Light Of The Morning Star


Pity the dark eyed man who chases sleep.

Yet, pity more, the man who finds that realm

and dances with his friends, long gone,

then wakes to find such loneliness in his heart.


A father’s hand laid gently on his shoulder

or a mothers kiss to say farewell on leaving.

These are the magic lanterns

of the ghosts that are their ghosts.


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Dead Fathers

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They say we carry the dead with us,

And most are surprised by the weight.

We hoist them up on our shoulders,

And imagine our strength is adequate.


But invariably we fault and stumble.

We stagger and trip and fall

We can’t see a way out of this trouble

Each partition becomes a wailing wall


We drop them in the middle of our marriage.

We trip over them when we try...

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When I have gone

what waits this room

with its vacuum

                where I sat?



my chair sits sightless

musing at my absence

midst space bereft

                   my music play on?


After I have left

ask my empty bed

all sheeted void

                about my dreams



my mattress dent

minding my long night wraiths

maintain my ...

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A dream itself is but a shadow

In the grey cloudlight of a pre-dawn moon

something stayed my dream

a stray insistent noise heard through sleep

the uncertain call of the hunting owl:

I am knelt naked at the window -

beneath, the frosted grass glimmers in the pale creamglow

hazy through the early swirls of mist

but not a shade or waft disturbs the spectral scene

although my flesh seems chilled by some slig...

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Hen dŷ

This old farm cottage of mine

keeps all my years safe

for it knows my secret ways

and remembers


There are shadows in the shadows

but in some rooms

my sons have hidden smiles

to lead me in


There is more solitude indoors

but here and there

she has retained a past caress

to warm me


The old mirror we found at market

still retains her ghost


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The Glowering Mists of Autumn

The Glowering Mists of Autumn


As I travel life's journey I'm often-times struck

By a vision both novel and possibly true; that serenity

In a dangerous world without luck,

Is impossible; but is there a temporal divinity?


Perhaps the root causes of wonder and joy

Really are in the sky, or on Dante's fine peak,

Or my fireside, where the dance won't annoy

In the compa...

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English summers, often damp, can invoke long stifling twilights

Nothing landbound needlessly moves

Contrails crayon across the sky

So many, this close to London’s hub

Distantly, the buzz of a low plane, pleasure rider reaching up

Into the realm of the starlings as they sussurate

A car comes past in the lane droning away round the curves

Here the runway cross remains

The old...

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ghost brother

ghost sister



two years before


unable to fight anymore

they gave up their tiny breath

to history


she never spoke of them

in anything but love and memory

of what could have

should have been


never tripping

over regrets

at what came after



my brother

our family


they had names for th...

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brotherchild deathghostslossmothersistertwins


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Ghosts to
my left,
Ghosts to
my right.

Ghosts in front,
oh what
a fright.

Ghosts all around,
How did I
get in this
Ghostly town?

I look at
my hand,
What is this
what do
I see?

Oh My
I can
see right
through me.

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Chapter 11: Ghost

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Walking past our old home

With heightened regret of suicide

I can’t stand the way that death feels

But I’m dying to feel alive again


Every street name reminds me of my past life

Of all of things the I failed to achieve

These anxious images control everything

Control my emotions to lose it all


My bent wings won’t let me fly

I’m sinking fast like a rock drowning ...

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Always Down The Front

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There’s always one isn’t there
Slopping beer all over his shoes
He’s jostling for position
Hand secure upon the barrier
But his shoulders aren’t quite through
Because a fangirl, already half cut
Is hogging space for two
Arms are sleeves of coloured ink
Hair is blonde and striped in pink
Boobs are large and cupped in lace…
He might try conversation
“I love your tats; the skull, the eagle

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The Ghost That Flitters

The ghost that flitters through your sleepless night

may be fully alive in another’s  daytime sight,

for the dimensions where they appear as a wisp

may not be the same as that where they’re kissed…


Imagine if your mind is ready for this notion just yet

that the ghosts which you see are not dead for I bet,

what you see is merely a slim projection coming from

another di...

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In The Halls Of The Kingmaker

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In The Halls Of The Kingmaker

I touch the rough stone walls,
feeling the room whisper with history.
The open fires cast medieval glows,
while wood smoke threads the tapestries.
Floorboards shiver underfoot,
groaning softly in their dotage
as visitors step gently
in the footsteps of kings.

Up and around
the spiral staircase,
just wide enough
to fit a climbing guest
whose hands

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eerie feelingsghostshistoryimaginationthe pastwarwick castle


One thing I am proud of most:

I never believed in ghosts.

Because shadows are shadows,

Or worse, penumbras up close,

And smoke leads to smoldered embers,

Not the fire one might suppose.

Reputations are ruined

By what one may think they know.


When you listen to stories,

Remember, there are no ghosts.

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War Boys

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War Boys


We’re going to war boys,
we’re going to war,
Lord Kitchener asked us
so we formed a corps.
Joe and Jack from the factory,
Ted and Jim from the farm,
the recruiting sergeant assures us
that there’s little chance of harm.
We’re part of the great pals army
and we’ve fallen for his charm
as we march away to war.

We’re in the war boys,
we’re in the ...

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deathghostsglorykitchenermarching songpals armyposterSITWBww1you're country needs you


now those eidolic dread horses have scarred your slumber, passed 9, passed 10,  and even your furniture has silent, open mouthed, nightmares over the too soon dead, dead school friends who never ended their crossings and see, see, she stoops, in shroud  ghastly knelt as in prayer but you can’t see, see through the tricks  of light that scream “she is there”, your crumpling chest  boiling as the bo...

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apparitionsghostssamuel beckettspectresspooksthings that go bump in the night


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photo credit: Kari Musil 

Like whiskey aged


Slowed down

Old school

Remembered for it’s bite

Some flavors are acquired taste

Between dark history

And magic fairies 

Is a legacy of ghosts

Who will not be stilled

By death or passage into

Other dimensions

Weeds are designated

By those with shallow perspectiv...

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dandelionfairiesghostsIguIguodalaNo me PlatiquestroubleweedXs and Os

grey sky drinking

I ponder the etiquette of nursing a pint

and whether some might find it impolite

if I made it last just little while longer that I

might watch the rain that crawls on the steamed windows

making broken ghosts of every passer by

each of them eager to avoid

catching the eye of the living and I wonder

which one of them broke winter’s heart such as to make it

so bitter

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On Sandal's Field Of Ghosts

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On Sandal’s Field Of Ghosts.


Mist hangs over fields -

ahead, the castle looms where

died the Duke Of York.


At the willows three

a chill permeates the air

and touches nerve ends.


Here fell the Yorkist

hope – body mutilated

and dragged through the mud.



His head sent on to York to

top a traitors spike.



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battle of wakefield 1460deathduke of yorkghostshaikusandal castle

Moon invited to launch of Pressed by Unseen Feet

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The August Blue Moon has been invited to the launch of Pressed by Unseen Feet, an anthology of poetry and short stories on the theme of the spectral unexpected. The evening is hosted by the Hotel du Vin in their courtyard with the sliding roof. Everyone is welcome. There is a small charge of £6 which includes a copy of the anthology and opportunity to hear Newcastle based singers, Skylark Song.


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AnthologyBlue MoonGhostsLaunchSkylark Song

Like Smoke

It seems as though our visitors may have returned, or at least their feline portent

I saw a black cat
when a black cat
wasn’t ever there

I saw this black cat
who was comfortably sat
beneath my very chair

but that black cat
was not so sat,
because it wasn’t there

and I saw that cat
when it glared right back at
my own quizzical stare

though while I looked at
that same ...

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Love is an illusion fuelled by hope

Hope is an illusion fuelled by love

The sky is full of ghosts each cloud

A spirit forever trapped in the blue.



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A Sleeping Engine


I live out  the past

A sleeping engine  in a shocked  blank room


Older than saxons

Older than jutes

Older than older !

The land gives back


Dreary English ghosts

Demonic and  inertly orthodox


Wake a  dread height

Travelling aquatint gives us light

Spilling utter twisted dust

 Lace, frost and the same ringing weather from here to...

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ghostsmurdertime travel

When Only Brain Damage Can Level the Field


Having noticed that most people tend to use their blogs to post poems they are working on, I figured I should play ball for once. So, in between the usual detritus I call writing, here's a poem:


The Dreams started again

Out of nowhere

Driving the familiar way


Catching a glimpse

The back of a head

That makes no sense


I know it’s you, though


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Then… Airplane falling wreathed in fire, ruined

bonfire dragged down by gravity to a watery grave.

Broken machine resting on the seabed, silence

reigns in Deaths’ triumph.


Now… Test Pilot Feng Yi and five of his comrades flying

air tests on red China’s brand new J11 fighter.

Saw many old planes in formation, props and je...

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Ghost dancing through the night so haunting and so mystical,

ghosts are all around you if you know where to look.

Mysterious ghost ships sail on dark eternal seas forever and ever.

Ghostly figures prance through the dark slender trees on a Winters’

moonlit night.

Maybe one day we too will be ghosts if we die in the right way

but now we can n...

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The Dead like to Party 3

The ticking clock is strangely still,

Was it beacause the mirror smashed and you thought that you had breathed your last.


For the mirror had told you to get out,

it scared you half to death,

the spiders crawled all over the house.


A house of imagination and where imagination drew it's last breath.

The dead came out crawling all over the walls, the monsters to...

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I thought I heard a scratching at the door

Familiar scrabbling across the floor

I thought I saw the curtains move and yet..

Do dogs have ghosts I ask myself? – You bet!

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Never talk to a stranger

If you don’t want to be in a danger,

Especially with those

Who speak with a foreign accent.

You will never know what they really meant.

Even if they walk along the Patriarchal ponds

You’ll be , I am sure, conned.

Even if you wear a nice suit

You can be looted

Or hear an outshoot.

Even if they smell the best perfume

They ...

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The ghosts of not repentant souls

Wander in the quiet woods night.

Only chilling cries of  owls

Cause the lightest fright.


Flying Dutchman frightens seamen,

Its sight is a portent of doom.

It was told by John Leyden

Sinful souls went to gloom.


Ghosts dwell in the hills.

Climbers know a ghost can kill.

To some they help to cross the river...

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Ghostly Memories



The loudest noise I have ever heard.

Impending death.

A lighting flash.

The crash of metal.


The rains come.

The dogs are drenched.

Rivers of blood

await death’s stench.


Lives floating by

through powers on high.

Electricity rules the sky.

I do not want to die.


The puddles become lakes.

The lakes become seas.


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My daughter used to worry her Dad
It was all about a fear she had
Each night she'd call me up the stair
To exorcise ghosts that were not there

So we had a long chat about ghoulies and stuff
And finally I thought I'd done enough
They don't exist, we'd at last agreed
and for Dad's rescues there was no more need

But then one night, while I was pottering around
a familiar shriek c...

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The Ghosts of Bamiyan

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Vast and empty resting places

Sleeping Titans stand no more

Vairocana, Sakyamuni

Dust upon the valley’s floor.

Art and beauty simply rubble

Never more gazed on by Man




Timelessly and still serenely

Walk the Ghosts of Bamiyan.

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The Ghosts


How to forget your smell?

How to forget your tender kisses?

Now I want to yell.

Your love my heart misses.


Cruel time didn’t save us, didn’t save.

Gentle breeze blew away our feelings,

Ghost of love came from the grave,

No mercy on me, no healings.


Our years together flowed and flew,

It seemed they would never end.

None of us knew


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diamante ghost

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                               chill hard

                    grasping pulling scratching

                       scream soul ache loss

                     screaming aching losing

                             empty needy



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Back home

Walked 'round the town where I was born and bred

Places changed, friends gone, some dead,

Fading ghosts of streets that were home to me

Where I'd played as a child, young and fancy-free

The glow of the smiles that used to be

On the faces of friends I knew.

Wraiths of ships built on the river there

Faint echoes of their horns on the misty air

Phantom sha...

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My pallid hand in the hand of darkness we drift the dimmed passsages the sunless hallways without respite the framed dead unameable resigned to dust, stilled forever beyond life no longer glorified in their earthly magnificences look down from shrouded walls. from the grave I have come, ghosting. an unwillling participant,imprisoned in the invisible reality of this ...

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by your leave

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We walked out together in the morning

but I came back alone.

The mist was heavy.

You had on your best boots

for walking.

You didn’t bring me home.


Ties loosen

as time moves on.

I can spend a day

without a thought for you.

But sometimes

when the mist thickens

I hear your voice.


It never says goodbye.


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Visitation (For The Ghost Theme)

It must have been
a suggestion of some
small quality
that attracted you.

Did I talk in my sleep,
ask for you,
ask for your company?


I doubt it, yet,
I cannot deny
here you are
beside me,
whether in dream
or day.
I am tied
to your intensity.
You the appealing
carrier of legend.
And somewhere,
lives a dragg...

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Morbid disturbance

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What right have you? poor little wretched spirit to stain with your white transparency this blackened room leave me to the safe darkness of this corner where I huddle guarding my fear let me be deaf to your pitiful wailings stripping me of my sanity. sicken no longer the dank air you have chilled with the scents of fleshless odours,perfumes of the dead I cannot understand...

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no place like home

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Dusk seeps up through marshy ground

Gases bubble, a spooky sound

The owl swoops softly overhead

The bat flies from his foetid bed

But here is where I’d rather be

Not in the house where you haunt me.


The house looks warm and cosy though

Through the doorway I won’t go

Look through the window, you will see

A  kitchen homely as can be.

But I know ...

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The Fairies in the Backs

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When Moses took the tablets

He asked with nervous cough,

“Excuse me, Lord, for saying so,

I think you’ve missed one off”.

Now Moses plays for Leicester,

Renowned for mighty packs,

So said “Thou shalt not give the ball

To Fairies in the Backs”.


And ever since my schooldays

Spent playing tight-head prop

You’d learn to see their fly-half as


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Girl in a Lake


on heavy eyes the full moon cast gilded shadows

swan path shafting seductive to the shore where

she dropped her clothes and entered liquid light

jewelled feet icy lustrous pale arms high uplifted


now wide eyes of unwavering clarity enraptured

dream-wooing  dream-possessed  she sank gleaming

to her knees in the bitter midnight water open palms

thrust upwar...

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Ghosts of Rivington Moor

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Ghosts of Rivington Moor


On a clear day from this windswept range

your eyes can see as far as the coast

and the mountains of North Wales

in heavy rain they can see little worth talking about

blindfolded by a dismal blanket of cloud


Centuries ago these hills were ablaze

warning of invasion from foreign lands

it’s pike still stands in solitary recogniti...

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The Ghost of White Hart Lane

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(Here's one I put in the oven before.  It'll have to put me on until I fabricate something new.) 


His spirit walks the terraces on Saturdays at three;

He's in the breezes blowing and the dust-whirls that you see;

That tingling of your hairline's when he touches you and me;

He's here, son; he's here at White Hart Lane.


Today you'd say he played midfield – in those...

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the King and I

I saw Him the other day
pushing a trolley round K-Mart
& He confided, yeah, it’s true –
that He’d just had enough
of the fame & all that goes with it,
so He shaved his head,
got a couple of tattoos
and lives in a trailer park in Arizona;
- still wearing the shades, though,
& the white rhinestone suit,
which, under the circumstances,
I thought was a bit of a giveaway, reall...

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Tainted Wings

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Tooth fairy goes bad

after 2 glasses of red,

forgets to collect tooth,

stumbles blindly to her bed.

Tear drop stings taint fragile wings...



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Clammy Shadows

Clammy Shadows

None of us are immune from these clammy shadows
of ghosts that pursue us from our long, long agos
with drafty whispers teasing our ears at night
leaving as quickly as we are seen to take fright
well gone before any help comes to hand
nothing left for others to grasp and understand

So under the protective tent of covers we go
at least that way our googly eyes will not sho...

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