Chasing ghosts seems to be our favorite pastime;
Lights not there that just seem to shine and shine.
Nimble and feathery, with a smooth, satin flair,
Speckled with powder, like a coat to wear,
They whistle, giggle, and sometimes simply stare,
As they hover on high, then float through the air.
Ghosts bring with them the aura of the sublime,
Through a door in eternity, they fall down into time.
They fly over everything in life that once was,
Events in our lives that once created a buzz.
If we ask them ‘why’, they say simply ‘because’;
They say what they want; that’s what a ghost does.
Then there are ghosts that are not so ghost-like,
Invading our anxious minds as a host to invite
All kinds of fears and temptations as uninvited guests,
Ghosts as dangerous and real as common garden pests.
They wander through our minds to haggle and jeer,
Giving us a driving test without a steering wheel to steer.
Ghosts of the mind show up in all the four seasons;
They make their presence felt for any number of reasons.
Friends long gone who have disappeared into the past;
Friendships that had no stamina and simply could not last.
Old flames and loves whose emotions just fizzled away,
While I plod on with these ghosts just wishing to stay.
Can I get rid of these ghosts in the attic of my mind?
Can I just throw them away, a receipt I haven’t signed?
To wake up one fine morning feeling liberated and free;
Just me and my good intentions ready to become and be.
Those nasty ghosts can roam far across the dark winter sea
They can finally leave me alone to be who I am: to be just me.
An eloquent take on what has become a distorted reality for most conscious beings in the past two or three decades. The ones that impact us remain "on call" for each time a lesson is needed to be learned. For where better to derive a bit of wisdom than from the struggle to right a wrong or create closure to distant pain and suffering of growing up. Loved this piece as it speaks to so many, if they will but accept the reality of ghosts as you've presented them. Bravo.
While I see a great deal of fascination with ghosts being a part of some, usually old, edifice or artifact, you are right, ghosts appear to be a part of the mind.
I feel so fortunate not to have my mind inhabited by ghosts so that I can go on with my life unencumbered by such nonsense. As far as ghosts hiding somewhere to scare me, that never happened and never will. I have awoken in half sleep to see figures of people I didn't recognize, but look at it only has an interesting figment of my imagination like the dream I had of Ed Matlack out of the blue this morning.
don't you think that we are who we are just because of our ghosts? As they are a good portion of us, what's the reason to cut them off, driving away? Why not to put them into service for ourselves? Only being overloading with work, they might give up and vanish by themselves ;)) a skilful wordsmithing is present here. Cheers, alex
Ah John, Most of my ghosts are gone. I fought them tooth and nail and lived long enough that I banished them to the point they don't harass me anymore. Except one, and I'm of the mind she will stay with me until the end.
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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I feel so fortunate not to have my mind inhabited by ghosts so that I can go on with my life unencumbered by such nonsense. As far as ghosts hiding somewhere to scare me, that never happened and never will. I have awoken in half sleep to see figures of people I didn't recognize, but look at it only has an interesting figment of my imagination like the dream I had of Ed Matlack out of the blue this morning.
Ron