Ghost Stories?

 

So, as if I don’t have enough to do, I’ve been hit by the inspiration muse for my next book of poetry. At least for the overarching theme of it (like how galaxies/alternate dimensions/astrophysics/time travel was for the last book). I was thinking maybe the paranormal/unexplained/ghosts, but have the poems revolve around lost people/opportunities, especially since I have been pretty chimerical throughout my life, and a lot got jettisoned and left behind in the wake.

“I liked you the way you were. I liked your walls. I liked being the one to bring them down.” Hook, Once Upon a Time

Here’s a sample one:

The Secret Life of a Chimera

I admit,

you were one of the ones

I had little regret about

and didn’t count you

among my secrets-to-the-grave.

There was zero nostalgia there

except maybe that time

we went to another dimension

with the help of…synthpop, was it?

Whatever it was, it was a beautiful step

out of time, on that Vermont road

clean and pure and transcendental as ice

that, luckily, wasn’t also on the road.

That’s how I remember you.

I will never admit that I think about

the play you wrote that saw the

me no-one else did.

But last night, out of nowhere,

out of years bygone,

I dreamed of you,

pineapple bright,

with a unicorn heart

full of rainbow love, just for me.

And I let you hold me, prickly pineapples

and prickly me and all.

I don’t know what was more confusing

that I let you in, or that I let you go.

And I wished another impossible wish

(they’re the only kind I’m allowed)

that you were the one to break down my walls.

 

–Willow Croft

 

Fever Dreams

Fever Dreams

In the real world,
I am maddened by my
own mind.
In my dreams,
even such as painted
by fever,
logic holds sway
and everything is as it should be
including myself.
The only thing missing is you,
in both my worlds.
You are only found in the
in-between,
and the fever is talking me
into believing you are real,
into believing that we are real,
and this,
this hope might be my final undoing.

–Willow Croft

 

 

 

 

The Alchemy of Time

 

The Alchemy of Time

The hourglass feeds on ghosts

it slows but never sleeps

the selfsame cycle of sand

still ticking away into eternity.

I should be able to

break free

but nothing ever changes

except in dreams.

Which is real?

this static reality

or endless worlds

born from chimera and

fire.

Every night, I escape to

a new unknown

Which would you choose?

I ask, while knowing the answer,

yet, still, entrust my last wish to you,

mystic warrior,

walker of worlds,

and my never-ending ghost.

Please, fracture time

and bring me home.

–Willow Croft

 

The Weight of the Pier

 

The Weight of the Pier

What is a pier?

A concrete challenge for the waves;

a cold path I follow to the maelstrom.

I dance in salt and grey

until night paints the ocean

with a mirror sheen.

It’s the stars’ turn

and I remember to wish

on their falling bodies,

hoping they light the way

for my ship to come in,

to a magic bridge,

or for you, dream-wanderer,

to take me from this waiting pier

before I drown.