http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Regular readers will be
aware of my passion for clouds, also more than a passing interest in the posthumous
consciousness; this poem combines elements of both.
(Photo taken from the Internet)
GHOST FINGERS
Inspiring the young, comforting old,
fuelling tales at cosy fires,
melting a frost on cobbles of despair,
thawing the icy grip of fear;
a warning too or at least a hint
of what’s to be, rooted
in shifting sands of a memory playing
fast and loose with our desires,
heavenly spires secretly tumbling us
Partying the young, partnering old,
fireflies dashing at twilight,
breaking into its pregnant silences,
fracturing cruel thoughts;
an intruder too, wearing a mask
that’s oozing familiarity,
shifting sands of a memory playing
fast and loose with our desires,
heavenly spires overtly spinning us
Driving the young, steering the old,
taking rough with smooth,
making inroads to forbidden places,
bringing hope, love;
a stranger at the wheel, no map
to dictate our route across
shifting sands of memory playing
fast and loose with our desires,
heavenly spires playfully teasing us
Feeding imagination, art’s finer promise;
clouds, like ghost fingers, signing to us
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
[From: Accomplices
to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]
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