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

 

The Wolf Transcends

 

The Wolf Transcends

At night

I am who I was supposed to be

Here, I have worth

cherished beyond all hate

and I am allowed

to be creative

to excel

to be right,

and real

where I’m never punished for being good

but it’s only a dream

a false promise of home, yet

still, I wait to be one

with the wolves

in the snow and ice and ravenflights

If only I can get through another day.

–Willow Croft (11:11)

 

 

 

Thieves of Totality

 

Thieves of Totality

All I have are thieves.

Thieves of time.

Of space.

And captured in the nostalgia

for past selves

or selves I never was.

artist

dreamer

world-changer

lover and

loved.

Those things,

lost among the ruins,

even those are fading to black,

yet

they still whisper to me,

crazy,

worthless,

and so many more judgments.

All the things I was not, yet

they have convinced me it’s

too late to do anything

except wait for the totality of silence.

 

–Willow Croft