Third Rackham-Barnes poem.
Dusk is the best time to see ghosts,
when the light in the streets is blue
and deepening, and the sinking sun
draws the pale light of golden dust motes
after it, leaving the sky raw and black,
speckled with fierce sparkling holes.
Dusk dims sight and sound, and only
cats prowl with impunity, cats and the
white-faced ghosts of dead dreams.
I hear them when the doors are closed
and faces are turned to dish or screen,
the silence turned up high to hide the tears.
Dusk light flutters with the wings of
might-have-beens and if-onlys, do-you-
remembers and I-would-give-anythings,
tip-tapping through the growing shadows
and dead butterfly wings with the
persistence of falling rain, sighing with
the inexorable rise and fall of the tides.
So dreamy…… ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
Not nightmarey?
Nope because that was quite an imaginary playground in my head that’s why…. Involving Casper the Ghost…. Lol
It became a Disney musical to me 😝😅😂
Well, that is pretty nightmarish 🙂
Okay…..! I didn’t see it that way so….
Every interpretation is personal, just like tastes in fun. I’m glad you found a dream-like quality in the poem 🙂
Yup, thank you so much!😊😊😊😊
🙂
Imagination at its best!
Thank you! You need imagination with such a mournful-looking place 🙂
This is an outstanding depiction of dusk. I have a catch in my throat for fear and sadness. Really remarkable work!
I’m so pleased you enjoyed this. Also that you heard fear and sadness. After the Disneyland interpretation I did wonder. It’s such a grim place, hard to pinpoint exactly why, but the ghost probably knows exactly why.
Oh I love that last stanza! (K)