delaneynichols

seance kids

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.

 

Comments1

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

    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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