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Ghost Story


11.10.19 Posted in today's words by

David Reuter’s most recent poem to appear here was “Saturday Afternoon Hero” (August 2019).

Ghost Story
By David Reuter

The specter of things
that lashed through my languid existence,
a barb at the end of a whip,
can roar to life
in the space of a somber tale.
There is torture in this stolid room
where I am shackled, raising spirits.
I raise it from the hazy shade,
a spotlight slicing moody gloom
where it has loved so long to dwell.
The searchlight finds the naked space
and brightens with a searing scour.
It finds my hidden hollowed heart
through which I strain the untold tale.
A raging, quaking din,
a shadow from a bleaker time,
rolls rapid through the brittle bones
that helped ensnare the skulking yearn.
Like bubbles from the apparition dark,
it aims a relentless path
until it burns,
a visible fit in lighted day.
The hulking beasts of a brazen past
recede with my heated breath
and walk with me no more
for as long as I choose to forget.



2 Responses to “Ghost Story”

  1. Frank Adams says:

    This is a very interesting poem and I am drawn to the strong images and the over-all mood of it. As people say, “It speaks me to in a way I cannot really explain.”

  2. Ed Zahniser says:

    Packs a lot of punch. Nicely done. Thanks for sharing it.

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