Ghosts on Every Corner

Dream in morning foggy air

Where streams of steam form every gutter,

And ghosts dance on every corner.

 

Like submarines, icy capsules move sluggishly

Over slick, black city streets.

 A barrage of dreamers try to break free.

 

The ghosts on every corner have it easy.

Streams of gutter steam

Rise up and up and

Waves unfurl, dissipating.

A battle of heat and cold;

 

 An eloquent battle of white wispy banners

 Flowing alive

 A draw, a stalemate and now nothing at all.

 

 The ghosts are unseen,

And the dreamers rub their eyes.

 

Author's Note

Struggle with this one. For my #PoetryMonday or #MondayPoetry (I forget ha ha) on Twitter

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the poem. The description brought me into the story. Ending made me want to see the ghosts. Strong word usage made me want to read again.
Coyote