Regular readers will know that I often write about ghosts and I've recently received several emails on the subject.
For a start, I have seen ghosts although, yes, that may well have been simply my imagination in overdrive. Even so, I firmly believe that the human psyche comprises passions enough to make itself felt at any point in time.
Each in our own way, we leave a footprint on the passage of time for others to follow or simply observe, examine, reach (debatable) conclusions and act accordingly as and when they may (or may not) so choose. Inspiration lies in whatever it is someone somewhere - in the distant or recent past (not necessarily ours) – may have sad and/or done; thereby making their presence felt. It is this ‘felt presence’ that embraces us. We, in turn, pass it on, perhaps without each realising it, by way of a chance remark or observation; past and present contriving to affect the future while, again, not necessarily our own.
And so it goes on, each of us making history in our own way whether incidentally or by design, not infrequently left feeling all at sea by the intensity of time’s continuum.
This poem is a villanelle.
ALL AT SEA or A-N-G-R-Y
Distant voices come to haunt me
(how long must I turn a deaf ear?)
like angry waves on a stormy sea
World, acknowledging poverty
(conscience seeing its way clear?)
distant voices come to haunt me
Where ghosts, my only company,
(riding white horses into my fear)
like angry waves on a stormy sea
Dark forces, rolling back history
(one for every human being’s tear)
distant voices come to haunt me
Raging genius at life’s raw artistry
(hidden persuaders, politics of fear)
like angry waves on a stormy sea
Storm clouds but feeding anxiety,
(Earth Mother’s intentions unclear)
distant voices come to haunt me
like angry waves on a stormy sea
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
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