Friday, December 23, 2011

The Ghosts of Past Lives

Like footfalls and hammocks
And snails and cured salmon,
The hoof, then the roe flits undertow,
To the peen of the hammer’s red, red ends

Old gypsum and christening
The newest glad tiding to
Bestow, ill-flavored pathways
Marked by delicately placate hues

Fairy dust and prawn shells
And magicians in stairwells,
That knew the words,
 Yet to stain the cellar’s dwelt

Chamois and lilies
So softly knitted, giddily we
Sip, upon cola and sloe gin, fizziest
When beside tall grass and silted sand
                                    Where a tomorrow’s yet been dealt
                                                      And a future’s yet to dry
A presence can be present, even for the ghosts of our past lives


  1. your poem is softly knitted as the patterns i discover and the mix of things that doesn't seem to relate first-hand..
    Fairy dust and prawn shells
    And magicians in stairwells.. love this...
    wishing you a merry christmas as well fred..

  2. tis the season for those ghost to come that last stanza fred starting with chamois and lillies on is just beautiful...have a great christmas man!

  3. This one jut had such a flow, that reading to was go go go. Such little fun moments can be a present indeed, as they present themselves and we watch and use them wisely taking heed. Or as they come to mind when something similar we find, always nice to remember such a thing, until a nightmare it decides to bring.