Spectral


They hear us at night

Tinkling in the jet darkness

As spiders build webs

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Goodbye 

  
Perhaps it was the wind, cold, biting to the bone. The Stars shifted in the night, the darkness more subdued, as the clouds fell towards me.

It was a strange experience to brace oneself against the intangible, secure both body and mind for the unseen. But I did.

And for a moment, she was there, occupying a space that she should not, coalescing into something not dissimilar to a ghost, but less. 

I think I should have liked to seen her again even if as a spectre haunting the darkest hours. How I wished she’d roam the corridors of my heart again, send shivers down my spine. But the mist, or cloud, or vapours of the girl I once loved was not a ghost. Not quite. 

She swirled before me, billowing, a faceless apparition. I backed away. The moon, too scared to show its face, hid behind a veil of stars, I envied him his barriers. I had none.

Hair stippled in chaos coagulated into silvered seaweed, a shawl of winter dreams swirled in frustration at not fully being. And still the face I’d adored did not shine, or, at least, only in obsidian. 

I could tell you that I knew her: I didn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t., it would be a lie. Yet as she began to fade back to that place beyond imagination, I heard her voice. It had to be hers. It just had to be! She whispered: goodbye. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing more. Although I listened harder once she’d gone. Don’t we always.

Once Upon A Lonely Night

Once upon a summer night
 Sunset burning, molten light,
 Sat a girl in rocking chair,
 Ephemeral and almost there.
 I watched the evening’s building breath
 Swirl about her spectral death,
 Yet still reflection in cold eyes
 Carried me to her sweet side.
 She was so cold, so very still,
 As rock she did against her will,
 The afterlife for her the same,
 Waiting for he who gave last name.
 I knew she was not meant for me,
 So left to lean upon a tree,
 But watched, I did, through watering eyes,
 As girl did fade in lullabies.
 Was she a dream, or ghostly sight,
 On once upon a lonely night?
 I do not know and do not care,
 But glad I am that I was there.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

My Spectral Lover



 I saw her as a spectre of a girl I’d never met
 
 Cast away forever in a time she did forget
 
 With midnight in her tears and a cloak of hidden dreams
 
 She rose up in the moonlight, the silence was her screams
 
 Her beauty was unrivalled though of course of ghostly hue
 
 But to me she still looked lovely, an ever deadly view
 
 So, I stepped into the shadow of that rather dreadful moon
 
 But chilled I did recoil though I think she thought my swoon
 
 And just for a faint second, as the old church did strike one
 
 I think she knew I loved her, but at that she was then gone
 
 

Spectre



 He watches,
 Observes,
 Prevaricates,
 From dark places,
 Terrible places;
 Places I’ve been,
 Places I’ve left,
 Places I do not wish to return to.
 He is the spectre,
 The faceless one,
 The eyes in the dark,
 Breath on my neck.
 He haunts me
 Always,
 Taunts me
 Continually,
 Lies in wait,
 As I constantly seek to evade.
 The spectre will take me
 One day,
 And I will look upon his face.
 It terrifies me,
 As I know it will be
 My own.
 

Death in Liquidity


Here’s the first of a few Halloween specials. I hope you enjoy them.



A shade of white closer to black
Spectral she ghosted over dewdrop grass
Flowing with unease through a life lost
I followed, intoxicated by unearthly eyes
O’er pasture she drifted rags streaming behind her in passive breeze
Unsure she seemed, as was I
No destination thought I as dusk enshrouded us
Still was the onset of night
A breath held in waiting
I mirrored this
My eyes repulsed by unnatural vision
Yet heart aching to partake in her misery
Rippling water transfused the newly darkened world with life
And yonder spirit paused
There a struggle broke out between limb and death
As arm struggled to lift under tattered sheeting
And fungal finger pointed to yonder water
I crept passed blazing eyes
A chill as of Arctic proportions spiralling through my core
Approached the river in Stygian replicant
Water broiling at my approach
Until I saw that which I was meant to witness
The body of woman beauteous beyond reproach
Floating, yet submerged
Alive, yet so undeniably dead
Voluptuous in decay
Strode, I did, into fetid liquidity
To aid that which could not be aided
I had to try
But as spectre stood atop embankment
And wail of laughter, or pain, transcended evening
The hand that grasped was not my own
The stuff of life from me stolen
The life I had, ended
Said river is now a joint domain of undead
Spectral sentry standing guard
Invitation to all I extend
To partake in a liquid death
A death that I for one welcomed


(Image courtesy ultradialectics on deviantart.com)

 

**SPECTRE**


It drifted across the marsh lighter than air,
Yet with a physicality more terrifying than anything tangible.
A harsh wind blew the grasses counter to the swirling rags that was the apparition’s mantle.
Purest white like newly fallen snow, a pale visage, it hunted, searched for prey.
Had it seen me crouched behind the twisted, dwarf oak?
Was I the object of its craving?
I cowered like a scared dog behind my bolt-hole,
As the last vestiges of the sun burned below the horizon
Leaving me and the predator in total darkness.
The spectre, for I was sure that was the nature of the beast, glowed faintly in the dark.
It was eerie in the extreme and sent a chill down my trembling spine.
Despite my fear, I marvelled at the thing.
What could it have done in the land of the living to merit such an afterlife?
This was possibly a question I was better not finding the answer to?
I peeped from behind the oak as my feet sank deeper into the marsh.
The stench of the place assailed my sinuses and left me wanting to retch.
I didn’t, of course, as I knew it would give me away, or worse!
The spectre paused, twitched, as though sampling the air, its threadbare sheets roiling in unseen updrafts, then drifted on.
Relief spread over me and the sweats upon my forehead finally discharged off my chin and into the marsh.
“Plop,” went the first.
“Splat” went the second.
The third never reached the water, as a pair of decaying hands surged from below
And dragged me down, down, down to my doom!

image courtesy of parascientifica.com & Google images