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spearflower berries
tempting the sparrows with their color –
graveyard in the mist

© Yozakura
Silently they watch
Life flittering here and there
Stone remembrances.

 

–my response for–

Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille

 

Ghosts on the beach

Waves swishing over beaches
Bring remnants of ocean lives

Alleviations

Alleviate me, with a foghorn. Swept up compilations hound
and dog me desperately, so maybe extend a forlorn sound.

Ghosts

Duvet deep, traitor mind fishing worries
What if, why, random fears and wretchedness

Where My Ghosts Come Out to Play

The room is tastefully decorated

Respectful distance is kept between her desk near the door and the comfortable chair that I decided the first time we met will be mine

Arms folded tightly across my chest,

hands in unconscious fists

Small table next to me holds kush balls and engraved stones with reassuring words like hope and peace and a box of tissues that I do not like to need

Beseech

 

A  Minute poetry form.

wouldst thou call upon love’s embrace
her cuffs of lace
will wrap warmly
and surround thee

I Look Down

From my window
I look down, look down
At the iniquitous world spread out below me
I look down, look down
I see the curst world, but it doesn’t see me

(Amberous Light) – Trimeric

in a cavern an amberous light
shimmering ghostly shades – set off the night
chilling whispers echo all around
reminding me of lives long gone

-21.09.25_17:51-

The child’s plaintive
Cry,
Echos past the dark outline
In the street,
Looking for acceptance
And love,
Finally granted.

Burn Baby Burn

How many degrees to burn you out of the heart of me?

Seven Hundred sixty degrees? Nine hundred eighty?

Ghosts of You

Ghosts of you are all around me
In every corner of my life
When I always feel your presence
How can I be a loving wife?

Dappled sunshine in the springtime,
Blossoms dripping from the boughs
Trees alive with birdsong
Yes, I’m thinking of you now.

The last walk home

Poetry challenge: Landscape.

Photo from fine art America.com

The road is dry and my feet are bare

but I am heading for home, I just must get there.

I walked this way when I went to school

so full of hope open to learning the rule.

I trod this way  as I grew older

my books got heavier and the winters got colder.

Humbled by the ghosts (Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn)

pinterest.com

I notice he comes out

When the moon is full

I tell him so, to hollow eyes

He has a smart reply, just like he always did

When I thought I adored him a little bit

And when he was still alive.

Ghosts

Hi guys! I’m posting this in response to the Trifextra Writing Challenge at http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2012/12/trifextra-week-forty-five.html! It’s community judged, so if you like it please spare a few minutes to put in a vote for me (Sorrows In A Serenade)! Really appreciate it, thanks! 😀

Ghosts of boxy apartment

walls wail watching

soul after soul fall; fail

spectacularly –

clean, crisp sheets tugged

up by cold, clammy fingers of hell,

smothering and blinding.

Light succumbs, darkness wins.

Ghosts wail.

more at sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com!

The Big C from A to Z…

Posted by Jen

Appointment cards overflow from her bag.

Birthdays lose their appeal.

Curiosity it seems might after all kill the cat.

Death clouds her thoughts from morning till night.

Emotions run riot, they scrape the surface of her heart.

Freedom is a lifetime ago.

Ghosts form a presence in her daily existence,

Haunting her every decision.

Imagination is all that she can summon.

skeletons in closets

fading reflections , translucent dreaming

reality stricken days continue scheming

seeing future images , always out of reach