Haunting
Spirit of the past from wooded dreams
now you’ve come to haunt or so it seems
touching lightly down to leave your mark
trees reflect the high beams in the dark.
An in between land goes a way not home
but only to more nights by tunes alone,
leading down a drunken path to apathy
launched by waste that ignites fires dastardly.
In forty years the route to pain is clear,
a venture bold with manufactured fear
that starts from deep within the very groin
and filters through the heart without the knowing.
This is a mind that folly will not get,
leaving it the one to feel regret.
12/28/17
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2017
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