That GHOST is a POET!

The ghost never dies...

Somehow I saw myself walking through familiar path where grasses grow tall enough. There were few trees, particularly mango trees here and there in my vision. I was searching for my father and mother. I forgot where they live. My hand full of sweets for them turned dark charcoal. I saw me inside a fast moving train with strangers. Somewhere I jumped into a platform. Rain is heavy, I had a cup of coffee with a strange looking lady. I saw train is fast moving out of platform. I rushed to catch the train but unsuccessful. I saw my father and mother waving their hands looking at me smiling and saw tears falling. But I felt I am not the person there.

Opened the eyes, hearing a violent fighting between rival cat’s near my window. Morning was too bright, I sat thinking of father and mother who passed away few years ago.

My memory swings to an fro, repeatedly. Past took the form of gigantic ocean with numerous whirlpools tying and creating suffocation at present.

Who was my father and mother then! They have suffered a lot raising me, their world of wishes and desires where revolving around me. But I didn’t recognise their agony and anxiety they built focussing my growth. I must have made them more satisfied and blessed. But I was an untamed beast with violent nature.

Dream’s sometimes look’s stupid, but sometimes it’s too powerful to make you enlightenment.

During my old age, I wish I don’t want to open doors of the past, but most probably I am forced to open some doors leading to view my school days when my father and mother carried me on their shoulders buying whatever I wished to get.

I fantasized that my father and mother is with me. While living they may be thinking like this!

The door leading to my teenage time gives a view of ultimate blunders and stupidity I did throughout. Now I feel I must not have think like that. I feel I want a second chance to be a school going child with old brain. Now I can understand every theory and processes of that time very easily and score higher marks!

Why I went behind females at that age like a dog I feel now, to rub everything what I supposed to desire at that age.

Now I am helpless and think I may die sooner or later before the next century. For what I lived all these years. I want to rub everything about myself from this world including my memories from this world. I didn’t live here. Surely…I am a man with numerous faces.

I have seen thousands and thousands of faces. Really are they living? You may tell, my death won't change this world or make difference in this world. But I am sure, this world is forced to erased, after my life for me only.

After my death, I saw my body lying frozen. I saw no true tears falling, the day everyone is a best actor. Some believe I am going to hell, for some I am on the way to heaven, but my wish is to become a poltergeist or ghost doing horrible things, I want to haunt my place. Even if I get free pass to heaven I don't want to leave here. I saw my father and mother beside me and shouting aloud. Look son you are not matured. You are just living and dying like us. You have written numerous poems and stories...did you carry those? You walk through that home making a haunted place singing those poems during late hours and horrifying all. You are not matured even after dying. You are living... Why don't you die and vanish. I looked my father and mother twice or thrice because I have no head to rotate or hands to hold or legs to walk or body to be heavy...

I just murmured

Life is a Mirage
Death is a Mirage
Living is a miracle

Some how I felt many people fled out horrified by my murmuring sound holding their precious life shouting there is a GHOST in that house. That GHOST is a POET!

History tells...

THAT PLACE IS HAUNTED! for no reason...never trespass that way
THAT PLACE IS HAUNTED!

Reviews

[Stu. T.H.]

Quite a lovely and charming work, author Arundass TP. It's attractive, it is not mainly fashioned in sorrows, grievances, nor ignorance but rather quite an unusual, flamboyant passion and innovation that is rare to see around.
And it also reminds me of William Shakespeare and his fashioned death parlour, he could also been a poltergeist poet if he hand't yield to the holy vows carved on his tombstone ~ What an entertaining thought.
Thank you for sharing your work, I had fun reading it.

[Arundass TP]

Thank you friend.

[William Propsner]

Really a good one. Took me a while to read it. One of your longer ones isn't it? I liked it. A little mystical in a way and yet it captures your imagination.
Good one

[Arundass TP]

Thank you friend for reviewing. I wrote it out of frustration.

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

OH, Dearest Arundass TP, what great words, great prose, and horror
this is a favorite. I love each line, so powerful. You keep me thinking,
and I definitely relate. :P ----Maynard, great write! ps. happy early thanksgiving, hope you are having a great night. :D

[Arundass TP]

Sure friend. I too wish you and your family my thanks giving. Have each day comming be happy and creatively involved. Thank you.

[1809 Black Plague December]

to you as well, Dearest.