THE GHOST WHO SELLS MEMORIES

Lurking around corners – on groggy

Gas lit nights, whispering death to this age of the machine.

See the tender white crosses-row-on-row

Oh! so-many windswept nights of swirling snow.

Creaking branches catch the whiff of Lady Fortune's

Pleasing freezing breeze, and pleased, I was, immeasurably.

More fool me! Old Lady Darkness – with her fondest acolytes: death and birth

And drear black night. I possess all the gross infirmities of mind

and soul and heart to leave me gasping as the false lucidity starts

On deep-black nights, when sentient beings' grief

Holds their tongues and clings to this merest tincture of belief.

Image result for lurking in fog

 

 

◄ i.m. John Donne

Day by the sea ►

Comments

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John Marks

Fri 20th Mar 2020 13:58

Tom Waits' beautiful voice, his magnificent music, and his divinely broken lyricism, break my heart every time I listen to the ghost who sells memories.

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Vautaw

Thu 19th Mar 2020 23:55

Can you believe I didn’t know about Tom Waits before I started reading your poems?! What a treasure he is. Such heartbreaking beauty in his voice, much in the same way your words convey. I love the way music enhances poetry. Thank you for sharing your amazing gift with us John. Write on my friend. ❤️🔥🌟

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poemagraphic

Thu 19th Mar 2020 21:37

D A M...

This is good

Po

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