CLATTER

People who say ‘Ghosts aren’t real,”

have never spent the night in my attic.

Those good phantoms make no attempt

to go quietly into the night, shift old boxes

and chests around, dump the contents

to rummage through while I try to sleep.

They are deliberate about one thing;

they watch for me to pull the covers

up to my neck in the cold of dark and bide

their time, watch my eyes close, see me

roll over to find a place that doesn’t hurt

my back, and my arm can rest.

On the lip of the high-dive, I stare

into the indigo water where dreams

dart and flash in the dazzle of today’s

frenzy. It is a long way down, when...

here it is, the moment the chains begin

to rattle and an old duffle dumps the

metal and stone of a wailing memory

onto the floor, so I jerk awake!

This time it’s her-not her, just those

cavernous eyes looking for that time

when we left the trees for this desert,

and I am turned inside out because

dead love does that when you smash

head-first into the indigo. the only

escape is to get up, shuffle to the

bathroom for a drink of water

and a long pee.

This time, put the earbuds in to drown

them out and fall asleep after two hours

of distant mouths talking about a war

somewhere I’ve never been and the

end of the world.

Reviews

[Lorry]

The one problem I have with ghostsis, why is it only human ghosts? Why are we not haunted by every big mac we've ever eaten and before you Sally "Well how do you know when cow ghosts probably only haunt fields and who says the cows you see in fields aren't ghosts?"
I'd answer thus... I'm surrounded by fields and my first thought on seeing a cow isn't "thatsa ghost cow?" for the same reason as when I see a squirrel I don't think "that's a ghost squirrel!"
And talking of squirrels, I do have a sister that's nuttier than squirrel poo about these things and is completely convinced that horoscopes are real too, so vase closed your honour.
I honestly don't have an opinion on whether ghosts are real or not, but why are the ones I hear in the dead of night, just as I find that comfy lorry shaped dent in my bed all plumbers, determined to sor out my pipes as they squilook, ritoot and hanunga all through the night?
I'd get up to check if it weren't for the fact they might have actual wrenches that won't just float through my head as they throw it.... wait a minute, am I the bloody ghost in this scenario? It would explain a lot. Like why I'd seriously like to haunt people who believe in ghosts, horoscopes and conspiracies, right up until thr point the invite people in to check and then I'll just shut the he'll up until their guests leave!
Yep, I'd be one of those whatchamacallems that just mess with the gullible minds of really annoying people who mistake believing in stuff like that is the same as having a personality.
Saying that though, of course unicorns and sasquatches are entirely real! 😃

[Vol]

Lorry,
I don't need ghosts... I have memories... they are far worse... they come out all hours of the day and night, the more negative, the more vivid! And aren't ghosts just the souls of folks who got stuck at home... s**t, man, if I were a ghost, I wouldn.t hang around here in the desert, I'd go EVERYWHERE! See all the good stuff, haunt the evil dictators in N. Korea, Russia, all of 'em!
Heh, heh, heh...
Might even peak in on old friends to see how the are doing...
Vol

[Lorry]

All our past memories are ghosts, kinda. From 6 year oldmewho knew staring out the window at the empty playground across from our school was a waste of time and that paying attention would be wiser, to every bad idea I had to thinking of the right thing to say once the person I was talking to is out of earshot.
Even me now is just a future ghost to haunt my decrepitude.
Maybe I should be nicer to me now so thefuture ghostgoes easy on me! 😃

[Vol]

Like they say, "If I'd known I was gonna live this long, I'd have taken better care of myself..."

[Lorry]

Indeed Vol. I'd have maybe exercised past my 30's if I'd known every time I get up from a chair I'd be doing the Grandad groan! 😃

[DIVYA]

"On the lip of the high-dive, I stare
into the indigo water where dreams
dart and flash in the dazzle of today’s
frenzy."

I was dazzled by this line, so truly, Vol. Its stunning imagery!
This poem makes me think of a sleep haunted by the past. Ghosts that wait for us to fall asleep so they can connect with us. "Those cavernous eyes" - I loved that. I sense the exasperation too - when we want the dark oblivion of sleep but they won't let us.

Loved this poem.

[Vol]

Divya,
Once again, you hit the nail on the head, that is exacty why I wrote this. I go to bed, drift toward sleep, and some old memory creeps in and robs my dreams, so I cover my head with a pillow, and put headphones in my ears...
Vol

[DIVYA]

I can relate to that, Vol. Sometimes, its hard to sleep. I exercise so I'm tired enough and sometimes I just pop a chill pill.

[Ms claws]

Volcano, I have never heard of a ghost killing anybody.
They are just having fun.
If they're evil spirits, they HAVE to flee at the name of Jesus.
Most are probably angels watching over you...and "her"...
They're harmless.
I love your daring and expressiveness...The words are exhilarating...some I've never heard before...(I mean your writing, in general.) Your writing is like a roller coaster ride,,,It travels up, up, up....sometimes it inches forward at its very peak....Then the rush! (Well, sometimes the "rush" is a drink of water and a long pee...but I'll take it!) Awesome write as always, Sir.

[Vol]

Eternity,
Thank you for the cool review. When I am in bed, comfortable and warm in a cool room, floating somewhere between awake and not, the only things in the universe are my bladder and my warm pillow, and they are at war...
Vol

[Ms claws]

lol.......

[Michael Sun Bear]

Holy Sh…… I wish I had read only your poem and skipped the reviews. I love your line “shuffle to the bathroom for a drink of water and a long pee.” Unfortunately, at this stage of my life, that seems to be the only response to life’s mysteries that I can summon. Well done, brother, well done down there in NoWhere, Texas.

[Vol]

Michael,
I understand... Part of living in the moment is fighting the battle between a warm bed and your bladder... and we all know who wins...
Vol

[S.zaynab.kamoonpury]

Whenever i read about ghosts i always ask if its imagination or real or hallucination, or even metaphor.?
Whatever it is it is a haunting enchanting poem i enjoyed reading.
We in the East attribute most such sounds to djinn though its very rare to hear sth without explanation.
Kudos!!

Plz also read and comment my newest poem too

[Vol]

S.
Nothing really happens except inside your head... Imagine being born with a perfect brain, but blind and deaf, and unable to feel... where would the ghosts be then?
Vol

[Emunah June.]

So as I always say...the beauty of poetry being what it is is that it can be interpreted in a million different ways, so I review this with my interpretation in mind.

I read this as an ode to the memories that keep us up at night, during the twilight hour between wake and sleep, when everything feels jumbled and like a big, fat, nostalgic sludge. The memories can be so violently loud -- of course, with me interpreting the attic as the poet's mind, not his literal attic. The creaking, the poltergeist of specters from moments we can never return to. The flashes of times we were alive, in which we no longer are, with time being such the gorey culprit.

With this interpretation in mind, this piece is an excellent metaphor for those moments. It feels just surreal enough that the reader can enter the space without feeling confused, but makes sure to maintain a sense of normalcy, which in itself, lends to theme at large beautifully. You have always had a stupendous way with words, and this is no exception.

[Vol]

Emunah,
Hey there! Thank you for the review... it is as though you are inside my head, and picked up on every nuance. I used to tell my students that I hate mat because it is way too easy to be wrong... I stroll outside in a gentle breeze, the birds are singing, all the bills are paid and the nest egg is secur, so I reach up and say, "I FEEL SO GOOD TODAY, THAT TWO PLUS TWO IS FIVE!!!" wrong...
But with the arts, especially literature, You can read a poem an be depressed all day by what it says and a week later the same words open your eyes to deep beauty! and you are right BOTH times... Ha... just got the image of the satisfaction on my face when I find a grapefruity IPA, and Lisa's scrunched lips, nose and eyes in total disgust... we are both right...
Emunah, THANK YOU for having such perfect insight...
Vol