Young Writers Society

Maze of dying ghosts

A silvery breeze stirs my mind, whispering
seductive thoughts. Imaginary vapours
swirl through the air, yet the dew-like dreams
slip between my tactless fingers.

I am willfully lost in this maze of mist,
a fog of false truths that obscure reality.
Wraiths haunt my imagination and I pretend
that they are more than ghostly reflections
shining upon the lake of my desires.

The wistful water evaporates at my eager touch
thwarting even this destructive wish to drown.
Ghosts rush upwards, evading my greed and
dispersing mists reveal horrible truths as I
struggle to hide within the haze. Gravity pulls me down,
burying me in harsh and haunting consciousness.

is it too late to sign up for this round?

(this is definitely not my best poem, but i tried lol)

There will be no eliminations- anyone is free to join or leave at any time.

Note: I'm holding on to this haha. I couldn't help but write a poem related to the challenge.

I sauntered past a silhouette that painted my shadow
Into the palette of grays and blacks intertwined
With ghastly oak trees clad in blood,
Towering over tombs lounged by ghostly figures.

The rough road prickled my wrinkled skin
That’s covered in strips of white ancient cloth.
I exhaled sewage air with teeth turning into fault lines
And lips smoldering into fire flakes.

I staggered past a group of ghouls and held on to my tiny
Doppelgänger whose other hand clutched an orange head
She used to encase her gems wrapped with immortality.
She handed me a piece to which I shooed away,

“I’ve had enough candy,” I growled.

We halted near a decaying tomb guarded by
A faceless man whose enchanting gems
Are cluttered on a shattered pedestal loomed out
By Lady Ghost and her black crooked nails.

Tiny held out her hand and screamed, “Trick or treat.”

whoops I'm a little late to the party! revision

Earthen Ghost,
where did you die -

is it far too late
to pay my respects,
tack some flowers
to your fire grave?

did anyone mourn
when the lakes melted
or notice when you
stopped your spinning
'round the sun -

we're too busy it seems
always two steps late
to the day that hasn't
yet begun, forgetting
the sun in our pocket

we let our fingers linger
too long over candle wax
and didn't mind the scorch
because pain is just
one of those inevitables

our hands were burnt to ash,
so they couldn't blame us
when they found our fingerprints
lurking where the grass had been
pulled from the roots,

it's not my fault,
i'm only ever careless

apathy was written into my veins
the day they decided electricity
is imagined because no one could
understand how bees make honey
when they're always gardening

but this isn't about stealing
it's about pollution, people deny
that smoke sometimes
does more damage than fire;
but you can't forget it.

you know i won't take
the blame, but i do regret it
enough to know the difference
between lake-swimming and
pool-drowning, isn't as stark
when there aren't any fish left.

Edit I edited it and threw it over in the Lit Center: matricide. Title inspired by Katteex's thoughtful comment, thank you!

@Gravitem



@starlitmind



@Querencia



@Whatchamacallit



@LZPianoGirl



@alliyah

Hey! Do you think I could join for the next challenge? I don't have enough time to do this one right now, but I should be free soon.

Wow! Love the diversity in the first week of poems - and have to admit I'm kind of a fan of writing/reading this dark--brooding poetry that came out of the "ghost" prompt. Big thank you to Katteex for your comment too! :]

Looking forward to the next Challenge @RoseandThorn!