Saturday, 28 December 2013

A Perception of Ghosts


As I grow old(er) there are times when childhood  seems like yesterday and even leaves stirring in the wind carry its echoes to my ears; the stronger the wind, the stronger the echoes… now happy and excited, now weepy and anxious….and I am bound reflect how old age is not so very different.


A PERCEPTION OF GHOSTS 

North wind,
roughly raking the last glowing coals
of a wintry day;
birdsong,
faintly among the trees like an echo
through my years
like tuneless
whistling noises made by a child failing
to impress peers
that mock,
and run away, never to know the hurt
to self-esteem
enduring
a lifetime later, the cruelties of human
nature
roughly raking the last glowing coals
of a wintry day

Wind drops,
nature’s opera taking off on wings of light
into a blueness
such as
a child feels when playing with imaginary
friends…
Happy
and sad at the same time for meeting reality
halfway,
creating
a safe place, yet less safe for being wide open
to fantasies,
deserted
by the same invisibles once on-screen trolls
insinuate
all defences in the best tradition of humanity’s
inhumanity to its own

South wind,
gently stirring the last glowing coals
of a sunny day;
birdsong,
as strong among the trees in the twilight
of my years
as shrieks
of joy uttered by a child when birthdays
finally arrived
in times
when family get-togethers were mixed
signals
of the love
the child craved, feasted on, yet always
left hungry,
never able to satisfy a growing awareness
of immaturity

Cold wind, warm wind, sweet smelling breeze;
old man, young child, a perception of ghosts


Copyright R. N. Taber 2013









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