Crash

ghosts

 

they gather on fire

in the flames of

valhalla and chrome

the spiral roar of memories

a lynx cradled in a torn photograph  

in the hands of a little girl

and her mother , in motherly rote
 
near their old wooden home 

under a spider web and a tree 

the ghost of her

wearing only my unbuttoned shirt

her tears against my cheek 

drowning in her cage of crushed dreams   

a suicide club

on a red raft , back stroking across twilight

and in my hands

a crumbled note of useless explanations

her voice writing fortunes in blood 

and a plate falls , and the night shatters 

and I felt her , there

still wanting to touch  ... me

watching , hoping

as the wall collapses

into broken secrets 

copyright 2012 Robin Christopher Amaral

Reviews

[Rikkevi Rue]

Your writing has a profoundly moving quality, stirring deep memories up from far down near the bottom of the memory well...some though a single moment in time have such depth of feeling and possess the power to stop time...arrest and captivate ones attention and imagination. Though second hand the reader stands there with you in that moment.

Observably accomplished by superb phrasing, poignant strokes of ink that stir reality on a level that spans the darkly buried lows up though the passionate emotions of heart and spectrums out in the light whimsical afterthoughts which leave one pondering the true meanings of life.

Of the 5 of your poems I just read this one touched me the most.

I read this one before on your site, but wow, a brilliant piece of prose. I felt the fear, secrets and intrigue deeply, Just fellt in another dimension... and this is a dark one of you! wonderful.

[Aidz]

gunna swear here Robin but have to Fuken Brill ...there ;)