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.
Categories:
visitants, metaphor, mystery, poems, poetry,
Form: Free verse
They came dancing without rules,
fervent visitants, fanning flamingo dresses of furious prisms,
figments so lustrous, figurantes in gleeful percussive permutations,
Their luminous spectral syncopation dazzling against a stark dark vista,
against the opaque nocturnal skyline, against all the bruises of one’s psyche.
They came dancing.
They were currents of tormented effulgence, wave upon wave,
a rocky glistening sea, a silent tumultuous celebration.
To behold is to be enraptured, to abandon all wretchedness,
to suspend all awareness of the human capacity for cruelty.
In the flood of the flaming sky, one is lifted by inexplicable wings,
by the ballroom careening intoxication.
They came dancing without rules.
Categories:
visitants, color, hope, metaphor, nature,
Form: Free verse
Creepy tale surrounds
Old wood house in the forest
Scaring visitants
Dare to visit surroundings
Searching romantic love thrill
Example For Enchanted House Contest
5-19-2016
Categories:
visitants, mystery, romance, , romantic
Form: Tanka
...inspired by 'The New Faces' by W.B. Yeats
We dead shall walk the hallways unopposed,
and lend an air of mystery to paint
and plaster peeling, thus exposed
when daylight turns to dusk; for there's a faint
uneasiness as new ones gather, pested
to hear our ghostly whisperings and may
have second thoughts, their courage tested;
were we not bolder occupants than they?
Categories:
visitants, tribute, writing,
Form: Verse
The city of nine Gates lays between two worlds.
In time wanders through pain and bliss,
Holding stones with hands cold, following signs stray from a Fate's gush.
The dark city walks the path of Silence,
Driven by a flaming star until the last Gate appears.
A vivid lightning, in a winter's scary night,
The edge of a cliff that few will dare to fall,
The tenth Gate reveals the Secret of a life divine.
Time and light swirl and dance in a purity,
Where prime Intuition and instincts entrap the Oblivion.
Free minds, visitants, touching the Doors' Perception knob
Wishing to feel the large and become the change they See.
Categories:
visitants, inspirational, introspection, life, peace,
Form: Free verse