After a five days hiatus it is back to the literary salt mines trying to burrow through and find the mother load of inspiration...oh well...no one can accuse me of not trying!
Fluttering broken wings of butterflies are
hitting on the closed window not anymore,
my heart let remembrances to bleed out…
they are like forgotten shadows on the wall.
Knowing she is there my eyes are searching
but can’t see nothing, there’s just a ghost.
Unattended love’s musty acrid perfume,
frozen fingers in time, ice of caresses gone,
wrinkles have no memory they are new
but the terse young skin never ever forgot
the touch of tenderness and calm desires
that ignited one of many nights the passion,
the all consuming fire without any limits,
there will be no ashes, it will be left a ghost.
The wind will see her when night arriving
with flashing lights, whipping up a storm,
of emotions she will be utterly naked…
you can’t say goodbye without getting lost.
Knowing she is there my eyes are searching
but can’t see nothing, there’s just a ghost.
SOME MEMORIES HAVE FADED TO THE POINT TO WHERE THEY ARE JUST 'GHOSTS'....THANK GOD!(SMILE) THANKS FOR SHARING AND LOTS OF LOVE. WELCOME HOME! JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
light plays havoc with the spirits of things now gone -- permitting only fleeting glances of them and their yesterdays -- peace and love my friend -- Jon Michael
You never cease to amaze me Georg. Your imagination and inspiration are alive and well. I hope you enjoyed your trip and am glad you're back. The picture sets the poem off so very well.
Marcia
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on April 15, 2010
Welcome back. Looks like the inspiration returned with no problems. Excellent piece.
This one took my imagination on a whirlwind tour of ghosts and fantasy and what an erotic mystism evolved....thank you for sharing this excellant write my friend.
fee
If you got ghosts you should call Ghost Hunters International & maybe you will get yourself and your house on TV...though I would be willing to bet that ghosts are more afraid of you than you of them...ed
PS: thanks for the comment to write to you when I am down...e
The ghosts of Christmas' past. The remembrance of those we once loved, and deep down still do, will, at times haunt us. But what can one do with the ghosts within our memory?
Hope you are well, my friend.
Mark
Welocme Back Georg
...we haunt and we hunger
her woes into all eternity...
"literary salt mines" <---I love this so much!
and of course this photo camo is superb
Love Glimpses
Vickie
Marcia
fee
PS: thanks for the comment to write to you when I am down...e
Hope you are well, my friend.
Mark
your friend,
Rockie
This is quite a dark poem, what did you do when you were away? I think you need a dose of happiness and love.
No Swedish bombshells to perk you up?
Missed you for sure! Welcome back,
Much love, light, and peace, dearest friend,
Amber
...we haunt and we hunger
her woes into all eternity...
"literary salt mines" <---I love this so much!
and of course this photo camo is superb
Love Glimpses
Vickie
Quite powerful, both poem and pic, brother. And Welcome Back!