Tag Archives: dreams

O What a Blow that Phantom Gave Me

A pallid house, moon-engulfed,
corridors beget more corridors:
where are the lights? Stupid,
there are no lights
only the monstrous goboes of the
windows, latticed like prison bars
black on white, like the movies.
Which movie am I in?
Why am I running, sweating,
terrified? Because from a
gust, a creak, a rustle I made
the man who killed me.
His knife is sharp and I know
he is behind me as I run full tilt
into you, dead 30 years:
cropped hair, roman nose, eyes brimming.
“O Finn, you found me!”
And hot in my hands you kissed me
boundlessly, your tongue a
technicolour thing in my mouth,
aching to penetrate into my
monochrome life instead of
being stranded here,
a ghost in a dream.

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The Canonical Hours of a Working Man

Matins

In the ghost world the

ghost girl dances her

ghost whirls enlacing me in

veils so seductive I

sometimes pray the

dawn won’t come.

 

Lauds

But dawn does come with the

prayer my feet will

find the floor and that the

floor will bear my weight so I

will not start the day

flat on my face.

 

Prime

If there is a God it is coffee-coloured,

coffee-flavoured, dark-roasted,

perking like heavy breathing, its

consort sizzling in the pan, the

toaster popping its prize with a

sigh like a prayer.

 

Tierce

In the mad rush of the studio I

see something, take my chance,

get the set rebuilt and

knowing it will take time

slip out to light my

prayer to creativity.

 

Sext

Shall I make this poem a pun on Sex? But

lunch is when I have a moment to

lust over those who, at work,

I respect, would never dishonour, but

at quiet times imagine

undressed, themselves lustful.

 

 

None

Mid-afternoon is a sigh—no, a

yawn into the vast face of the work we’ve

chiselled all day into something we

pray is vaguely human, vaguely

real, vaguely worth all that

spent time to achieve.

 

Vespers

Outside the lamps are lit just as we

switch ours off and head away home

praying all is well with those

work has cut us off from, lit

phone-screens in the car-park evidence of

love, concern and care.

 

Compline

Fed and watered—ok, wined!—I

wend my way to my hotel, call home,

check the news, reply to emails,

clean myself, resign myself to bed

praying the ghost girl will still be

whirling in her ghost world.

Diana Marin

Fine Art Photography & Poetry.

Rusted Honey

Poetry, haiku, tanka, and micropoetry

Turning the Lights Off

Random musings inside my head no matter how hard I try to shut the damn lights off

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

Secret Dates Diary

Secret Dates Diary of Anne Regina

Hannah likes dirty words

Writing, extracts, pleas to buy my books, the odd essay.

word and silence

Poetry, History, Mythology

The Cat's Write

Milly Schmidt

ELLEGUYENCE

New content every Sunday

Love Hate Sex Cake

Musings on a Libidinous Life

Krystal Minx

My Colorful Life as a Bisexual Minx…real life tales with the man I love, and our fun-filled shared playmates…and all things about being the woman that finally discovered how to be ME and what LIVING LIFE is all about <3

R. A. Douglas

Dream big! Live bigger!