The desperate howl
Of the calling wind
That voiced your name
Your many sins
Love in denial
A pigtailed dream
To music rocks
The dance obscene,
The calender pages
Ripped from view
The corpse like lips
In purpled hue
To see you walk
Across splintered floors
Flowing in lace
Through empty doors.
The candles flame
To light your eyes
The story tellers
Truth and lies
The static strings
A lingering note
Upon perfumed air
The night to coat.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: July 30th, 2026 02:46
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 51
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Nerd
Offline)
Comments6
This poem is haunting in rhyme, meter and message. Nicely written it flows in a rocking manner. It sends its message well and is a fave
Much appreciated, thanking you
As always Norman you are most welcome
What a haunting portrait of echoing past through ruined spaces and lost innocence resulting in conflicting truths like a ghost moving through the wreckage of their own actions, evoking a nocturnal haunting mood.
thanking you my friend, always much appreciated
Most welcome friend 🙏🕊️
An refined style with a touch of morbid erotism .
glad you liked it, thanks much appreciated
Norman, what a haunting and beautiful poem. I know how vividly memory can resurrect someone, and the uncertainty surrounding this woman makes her presence even more powerful. Love, regret, and mortality become inseparable here...leaving the past very much alive. Wonderful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind, thanking you much appreciated my friend
Good write N. Ahh, a poem including you ripping calendar pages, as months go by, and no bus! lol.
years and years of waiting lol
Fine words Norman brining memories back.
Andy
thanking you, always appreciated friend
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