OUT OF THE BLUE/ Poetry Potluck #33

THIS WEEK'S Poetry Potluck #33, presents us with the opportunity to deal with our Doubts, Fears, Inhibitions and Hesitations.  What weighs me down the most?  I hesitate to tell you...


OUT OF THE BLUE

A friend schedules a seance.
I'm the ghost.
I come through
but it's Greek to me.

That makes two of us
who wonder
what my spirit is up to.

I fear my soul
may have
a separate language,
and it's one
I do not speak.

Out of the blue
I start scattering
tittle-tattle,
revealing secrets,

and everyone
gets the message
but me,

because I still
haven't learned
the true
heart to heart
of Heaven.


copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2011


http://www.minblu.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/lynxny

A Pantoum...

A PANTOUM is a poetic form that first appeared in the 15th century, in Malayan literature.  The Western version is a poem of indefinite length, made up of stanzas of four lines repeated in a pattern:  lines 2 and 4 are repeated as lines 1 and 3 of the next stanza, and on and on.

The final stanza has a twist: the 1st and 3rd lines are repeated as usual from the stanza above, the 2nd and 4th lines are the same as the 3rd and 1st lines of the 1st stanza.  Confusing enough?  I have to practically use a road map to get it straight.  But I do like the rhythm that starts to appear, and the results that couldn't happen unless the form was followed.  I find a ghostly theme to fit this form quite well.


LIMITATION

Ghosts are more limited than we are.
You may think the opposite is true,
and consider walking through walls
to be a higher gift than dancing.

You may think the opposite is true,
that eternity adrift is a prize,
to be a higher gift than dancing,
as you float along a chilly wall.

That eternity adrift is a prize,
a bit of mischief and nothing more.
As you float along a chilly wall,
it seems a skill like the tango.

A bit of mischief and nothing more.
Hips swaying on the dance floor,
it seems a skill like the tango,
the illusion of walking on air.

Hips swaying on the dance floor,
they say to follow the light,
the illusion of walking on air,
tapping floors to send out a shiver.

They say to follow the light.
An itinerant gliding back,
tapping floors to send out a shiver.
Floating like grey silk up the mortal coil.

An itinerant gliding back,
and consider walking through walls,
floating like grey silk up the mortal coil.
Ghosts are more limited than we are.


@copyright/all rights reserved/ 2010


http://www.minblu.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/lynxny

Ghost Hunter

DR.HANS HOLZER/ January 26,1920- April 26, 2009
x
INVESTIGATOR OF THE PARANORMAL,
died at his home in New York City at the
age of 89.
x
A renowned parapsychologist, he was the author
of more than 140 books on ghosts, extraterrestrials,
and witchcraft, but also brought his eclectic taste
to the writing of several plays, films and musicals.
His most famous investigation was the notorious
"Murder in Amityville", (1979). He is credited with
the phrase, "The Other Side", and coined the term,
" Ghost Hunter", which was the title of his first book
on the paranormal, published in 1963.
x
He earned a masters degree in comparative religion,
and a doctorate in parapsychology. He called himself
a scientific investigator of the paranormal.x
x
And he was a mentor to me. We met because fate
drew a road map. Coincidence.
x
And because he'd heard about me. And I
of course knew who he was. He called me, about
ten years ago, or so. We're not talking about dating,
of course. We're talking about research.
x
He was a learned gentleman and it was a
privilege to know him. The scope of his knowledge
was impressive, and I'm very glad that fate saw fit to
bring us together.
x
Now here comes the funny part. I was
ultimately featured in one of his books, and I can't
possibly tell you which one, because then my
cover would be blown! But isn't it nice how many
different kinds of friends we can have?
x
So forgive me for being so elusive...hmm, maybe
mysterious. But what do you expect from someone
who's blog is called .....?
x

Drifting

from Two Ghosts/poems
x
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxECHO LAKE
X
A gray scaly fish, dead,
with a glazed eye bulging
past its socket,
floated on the water.
I dipped my hand into icy Echo Lake,
rocking the rowboat.
x
My father said sit still,
do you want to turn us over?
x
Of course not I told myself,
because if we fall in and we sink,
I'll get lost in a bottomless evermore.
x
Echo Lake was lassoed by trees
in a ragged circle,
the sky rising above forever,
and water that went down, kept going
on a path till it reached a star
on the other side.
Nothing returned to raise its head
ever again.
x
If I called out
Help,
only my own voice would come back
over and over like a ghost
before I became one.
And that would not save me.
x
My father was right,
so I sat still.
x
x
c all rights reserved