MY GHOSTA Poem by MarkThe very first of the "Fran Series". Before we were even an item, I had perceived within this attractive, gregarious woman a frightened immobilized child, crying in frustration, seeking relief...
MY GHOST
There's a Booger in the woods-- How do I know he's there? When I walk too close to Him, His talons snag my hair He frightens me, he makes me cry More so than Robbers, or Hoods-- I stay away from Meadows now, 'cause there's a Booger in the woods! I've a Ghost who shadows me Down every Path I tread; I've tried every means I know To convince Him that He's dead I plead with him to let me be, Yet does my Ghost my footsteps fill. His viscid croaking reminding me That I alone can His voice still! Is't not enough just to deplore Him? Can it be I must ignore Him? Does my acknowledgement restore Him? Give Him Power? Make Him Whole? If true, I must command Him gone! Starting now! This very Dawn! Clammy hands no longer on My Back, my Neck, nor on my Soul! There WAS a Booger in those Trees, But Spring is here, and leaves are on! And dead things cannot my heart freeze, Nor long live, where's Life, and Sun! I thought I heard Him yesterday, But I laughed, and said, "It's but the Breeze! "It's months now since He's called my name "For there is NO Booger in those Trees!" A word of Explanation: "Booger" is a catch-all term used in the South, to refer to any spooky but insubstantial thing. Earlier forms include "bogey" and "boggart" As this is a poem about facing and eventually conquering one's fears, it seemed an apt choice, despite its other more-common meaning. © 2009 MarkFeatured Review
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