Just Looking..

DIFFERENT DAYS

Different days, different ghosts,
poles apart,
whistling to me as if,
I was a taxi,

hailing me to take them to hell?

The one walking along the wall today,
brought Dickens to join his wit to mine,
to help me construct my carol.

A worthy past,
a present that keeps on sliding away
to become a wiggle through a black hole
into the future.
Where's the soul mate to share
the guilt of long ago?

This wraith seeks me out;
this mask, imagined?
Or is it just a cold damp conscience?

I yell out to the lurking shadow,
hopping like a fool in a funhouse.
I round the corner.
I've seen this before
in black and white,
it's not just my mind anymore.

My soul sees you, you can't hide.

I'm sort of jumping the gun.
This is a dress rehearsal for the time
when I haunt you.

c copyright/ all rights reserved/ 2010


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

My Aura...

THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE CATS know what I mean when I say that I had the distinct feeling this morning that Milo was staring at my aura. Not at me, but something that may have been surrounding me, or perhaps clinging to me. I stared back and asked, "What"? Like I expect an answer. "What?", again. Hmmm, no answer. I can't get over that, that he knows something and won't tell me.
x

I did the best I could, I moved out of the room. Hopefully solved the problem. Must have. Milo went back to playing with some trash. Yes, but what does Milo know, and when did he know it?

x

I come from a long line of mystical speculators. In fact I even got around to publishing a book of poetry about a year ago called "Two Ghosts", chock full of poems with spooky undertones.

x

Last year I posted the following poem on my blog, sort of a reflection of my very early confrontation with the spectral. Here it is again.

x

SOUNDLESS

x

Late in the afternoon

as the sun swept its final glow

across the sky,

I sat in the kitchen

with a blue lined pad

arranging my homework for tomorrow.

x

No noise was heard

of footsteps approaching.

Then suddenly

my grandmother was at my side.

I gasped

in surprise again,

and wondered why

she made no sound.

x

Because, she said,

that's how we were in the village

where I was a child.

People floated when they wished to

and I learned their natural ways.

Not as high as the ceiling,

just inches from the floor.

x

I asked if they were ghosts.

She said no, not at all.

Ghosts

are able to do so much more.

x

x

"TWO GHOSTS"/poems/Lyn Rochelle

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x

x

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

http://twitter.com/lynxny

Halloween...

TWO GHOSTS
X
LADIES IN WAITING
X
She sits in a straight backed chair,
slouching like Whistler's Mother.
Head to toe in black, she looks out
of the night window.
I wonder if she's the nurse.
In the ward there are no other children.
I call out, "Can you bring me some water"?
She turns to me and
I can't find her face.
x
She sits on the edge of my bed.
Her etched face is older
than I will ever be.
Unwinding the ashen strands
of pinned back hair,
she lets it float around her shoulders,
then smiles her white grin
as if she were a doll.
x
from: TWO GHOSTS/poems


Don't be afraid, smile, it's all an illusion.....
x
x
http://www.minblu.blogspot.com/

Soundless

A LITTLE GHOST STORY FOR FRIDAY THE 13TH
X
From: TWO GHOSTS/ poems
x
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxSOUNDLESS
X
Late in the afternoon as the sun swept
its final glow across the sky, I sat
in the kitchen with a blue lined pad
arranging my homework for tomorrow.
x
No noise was heard of footsteps approaching.
Then suddenly my grandmother was at my side.
I gasped in surprise again,
and wondered
why she made no sound.
x
Because, she said, that's how we were
in the village where I was a child.
People floated when they wished to
and I learned their natural ways.
x
Not as high as the ceiling,
just inches
from the floor.
x
I asked if they were ghosts.
She said no, not at all.
x
Ghosts are able to do
so very much more.
x
x
x
x

Ghosts

Well, here I am consorting with ghosts again.
Am I projecting a future, spooky attachment to life
when I should sensibly have left this mortal coil?


The very thought of the static, repetitious scenario,
coming through the same door for eternity,
is not appealing.

I guess that's the point. Let go in life,

maybe it will be easier to close the door

permanently when the time comes.

Heaven Beckons!


Method to my madness...a request has been made
for me to show more of my poetry.
I have from time to time posted a snippet here,
a snippet there, from my book of poetry,
"Two Ghosts", which "came out" last year.
Aha!

Certainly, not all my poems are ethereally tilted.
There's a song, a dance,
some seltzer down your pants.



Here is an entire poem,
one of the Two Ghosts
I keep tossing around.
Maybe one of these days
I'll post the other Ghost!



from:

LADIES IN WAITING


She sits in a straight backed chair

slouching like Whistler's Mother.

Head to toe in black,

she looks out of the night window.


I wonder if she's the nurse.

In the ward there are no other children.

I call out,

"Can you bring me some water?"


She turns to me

and I can't find her face.




c2009 all rights reserved



Two Ghosts
poems
Lyn Rochelle

to order:

call 888- 795-4274 ext. 7876
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or at bookstores.





I want to thank Marti at Cameleon Conundrum
who has posted her interview. Check her out!

Interview

So happy to have been chosen to be interviewed
by Willow, Life at Willow Manor. After I answer Willow's
questions, I invite you all to be interviewed as well.
Instructions at the end of this post will tell you how.


1. I see from your blog that you are a
breast cancer survivor. Which one piece of
advice can you give us from this experience?

I'm taking it for granted that women are looking
after themselves, that no foolish excuses, no
hiding one's head in the sand, is allowed to take place.
Go for that exam, follow through. Believe that you are a
survivor. For ages I've had this favorite phrase. If anyone
tells me I have something awful, I always say,
"I have the good version". Have faith in your good fate.
Is that more than one piece of advice?

2. Why is your blog called "Two Ghosts"?

I had a book of poetry published last year. The title
is "Two Ghosts". There are two short poems in it, connected
by theme. What else...ghosts! The ladies in the poems
are as scary as I could make them. My grandmother, from
the old country, brought a bounty of frightening tales
with her when she came here. Many times her stories had
me sleeping with the lights on. "Two Ghosts"? I like the
sound of it. Better than One.

3. Who is your favorite female actress and why?

It used to be the other one, but now it's definitely
Helen Mirren. She's sublime. Just when she seems to
be acting a hag, with the turn of her head she becomes
beautiful. She always seems transcendent, more than
inhabiting the role, more than anyone could wish for.
Who else could play the "Queen"? And Jane Tennyson?
There's no such thing as seeing "Prime Suspect" too
many times.

4. Apart from your loved ones, what
is your most treasured possession?

A very big box. My apartment. Lock me in and throw
away the key. Everything is here. Books on shelves,
on tables, on my nightstand. Paintings hung the way
they do at the Louvre. One on top of the other up to
the ceiling. My Puja, where I have a very ecumenical
group of saints and symbols that I invoke every morning.
Old pots and pans, two great new ones, that I really
use for the hundreds of recipes I've collected. Music at
all times, Mozart or The Beach Boys. And all
my art things are here in this box.

5. Before blogging, what, if any was

your main mode of personal expression?

Before blogging, like a month ago, (this stuff may be
too tech for me), I was gifted with a love for art and
was extremely privileged to be able to follow the path
of an artist. For the last five years or so I have been
totally wrapped up in the making of collages. What I
love about collage is that I am able to use parts of
other art that I've done, old sketches, pieces of etchings,
prints, cloth, nothing is thrown away, anything that
can be pasted, assembled. I like beauty, I try to make
my art beautiful. In order to take that love for beauty
to a logical place, I became a makeup artist.
I'm just a fool for beauty. I also like to write. Talk?
You can't shut me up.



Here's the instructions:

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions.
(I get to pick the questions).

3. You will update your blog with the answers to
the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer
to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed,
you will ask them five questions.

Two Ghosts

It's not that I believe in ghosts. I believe in stories and poems about ghosts.

Something did that jumble, not me. This is what I wrote:

It's not that I believe in ghosts. I believe in stories and poems about ghosts.

When I write something down, if I make it up, if it seems vaguely possible that it is about me, someone always asks, "Is that true?"

The air that I blow into a balloon is of me. When the balloon bursts, my breath floats to the edge of the universe. Yet here I sit and write.

Do you possibly remember when I had a blog called Freshhell? A year or so ago. It had a life of its own. Sometimes it showed up, sometimes a gremlin had its own ideas. Then it disappeared. When the universe is trying to tell you something, it can be emphatic. But since all energy lasts forever, who knows? There's the edge of the universe again, inhaling my breath.

Let a black hole have its way.

Two Ghosts
poems
Lyn Rochelle

Call: 888-795-4274 ext. 7876
order online at http://www.xlibris.com/, http://www.amazon.com/, http://www.bn.com/,
http://www.borders.com/, or visit your local bookstore.

copyright 2008 TWO GHOSTS all rights reserved