Johnny Sumler Poet Rhyme Royal

Visitors

How can a house be cold in summer's love
Yet gardens grow and puddles disappear
Inside the walls of frost which I speak of
I live unconscious of the month and year

As nature speaks in tongues unclear to hear
Infected with no memory of time
My memory the victim or the crime

Moreso, methinks my real estate is haunted
Seemingly not a rodent coy and stranded
Can raise a dish and break it when confronted
Oh Lord, I cry to thee as if abandoned

Weak of fatigue, or fear and heavy handed
Be it wizardry woeful through conception
Or be thine eyes figments of false perception

Cabinets close and open quite sporadic
And tablecloths remove themselves completely
Unwearied are the footsteps in the attic
If thou art dither, dost dither discreetly

Thine wish would be for thou to dry concretely
If death adores the soul to be at peace
Why hast thou abandoned thy coffin's lease?

Whispers attract my force untoward a prism
And memories forgotten fast awaken
Now voices blare a tune of exorcism
Myself the ghost, causing thy to be shaken

Oh Lord, I cry to thee a soul forsaken
Forgive me for my soul, non-fiction juror
As I'm the ghastly figure in the mirror

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Michelle Mac Donald May 16, 2011 at 6:14 AM A hauntingly clever write, Johnny. An arcane scene depicted here. I think you are as much of an enigma as this abstruse being. I hope you will come back here to post more of your writes.