My poems are ghost-written.
I scarcely identify the visitants
Mingling with heedless shadows.
Poltergeists outfit my words.
Though we converse,
I hardly know them,
And seldom fathom
Their prophecies.
My poems hemorrhage
In convulsive madness
Like the speaker in tongues,
Unleashing foreboding fragments,
That I might discern some divination.
But my autonomous hands move on
Planchettes over enigmatic spirit boards
For which I act only as outlet.
My poems are ghost-written.
My stanzas are tent revivals arrayed
Down the page with ritual dance.
Faith healers shout and wail,
bending my lines
wending a trail of travail,
They conjure all specters to avail.
My poems are ghost-written.
My words breathe and writhe.
They live as cells squirming for life.
Yet, inflections within them always
Mutter from another,
A propulsion between impression and
Arousal.
Beside midnight's minting bare branches
Dead fingered messages on bedroom pane scratches
Four awe struck teens oija board captured
Followed fast spelt results, from rock star sanctioned
Questions asserted by incredulous desires
Hoisted upturned glass drawn answers much admired
Grave lain idol caressed all the girls inquired
Decisive planchette slide surprised previous denyers
Eerie sequenced letters spelt Cobain's cause of death
Conduit confirmed it an accident, fans bereft
Of Kurt's cutting edge grunge, now Nirvana aroma left
Bygone, but through them, legend found breath
1st October 2020
For: 'Unexplained' Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Carolyn Devonshire
NB - Biological studies have demonstrated that the
phenomena of seemingly self driven planchettes
during seances is caused by the ideomotor effect,
a sub concious physical response. Ironically, the
less control participants think they have, the more
their subconscious controls what happens.
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