The Ghostland
it's not the same anymore
this is a haunted place
all the living
happy and smiling
writing a pretty line
feeling sublime
but....it's a ghostland to me
drab
drear
desolate
poets I used to know
those on fire
dripping passion
after a fashion
laughter resounding
keys getting a pounding
poetry driven
friendships? A given
throbbing...alive
Now? Memories survive
for slowly they perished
not being cherished
tired and sore
they couldn't take more
and they....walked out the door
dead to this place
they left just a trace
their poetic legacy
forgotten camaraderie
leering at me
word ghosts that haunt
rhyme echoes that taunt
empty places
forgotten faces
I'm one of the walking dead
your words alive in my head
So much left unsaid
The ghostland? It's here
more will leave, I fear
the precious, the dear
but as for me?
I'll remain...complacent and plain
feeling the drain
emotions slain
thoughts on the wane
I remain...I stay
hitting that replay
of your memory
ghosts of what used to be
your words living, breathing
here....
inside of...
me.
Eileen Manassian
*Since this has become POTD and will get exposure, I need to clarify something. This came to me, in part, after reading the news that Jack Ellison is thinking of leaving PS. He's a dear soul. I wrote this because there are several poets whom I miss....poets who are not as active or who have left altogether. This poem is not reflective of PS as I know there are many who are thriving here...AS THE POEM INDICATES. It's just my personal feelings. Thank you for respecting that.
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment