Thursday, 9 May 2013

Ghost Fingers

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

[From: Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007] 



[Note: There will be no further print runs of my poetry collections; revised editions in e-format are in preparation.]

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