in the darkened woods,
lay a spirit board.
vines engulf the oak
and the paint is chipped,
images of a time lost
etched onto the screen.
the planchette sits still
waiting for an eager hand
waiting for the candlelight
and chanting voices
to start the night.
a ritual,
game,
a seance of some kind,
the kids who speak its name
living as spirit feed.
we call the seance kids,
teens with hoodies and tattoos,
blond hair, cheerleader
straight a's and thin wire glasses.
these are the seance kids
parentless
homeless
loveless
seance kids.
i was a seance kid once.
sad.
alone.
i still am
and with the planchette in hand
and the smell of smoke
i am home,
with the seance kids.
-
Author:
d.n (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 22nd, 2018 10:28
- Comment from author about the poem: i am a seance kid.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments1
WELCOME FRIEND ~ Thanks for your first Poem very nostalgic. Like so many teen fads OUIJA (YES-YES) BOARDS came & went. Many people were scared by them and (I read) burned them publicly ! Thanks for sharing more please ~ yours BRIAN. I share my site with my Fiancee ANGELA who is in NZ on a work exchange. Please check ~ Thanks B & A MPS works by reading & commenting on each other POEMS ~ OK
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