Dead Man's Lake

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On a night where the diaphanous moon rides full

and the solitary wolf

chants an ululating cry

to ancestors of old,

the forgotton ghosts congregate

on Dead Man’s Lake

 

 

 

Here where the creeping trees hang their long shadows low,

 

 

dipping their toes, stooping to trail leafy fingers in unison,

and the treacherous wind stirs ripples across glass,

beneath the nebulous sky, in the pale purple light,

misted spectres of the long unloved,

slip slowly by.

 

 

 

A wailing child, abandoned on a desert roadside,

 

 

left starving, to die,

now dances with the nameless hobos found

frozen against the frozen ground.

An unloved mother, aged, overlooked,

left to perish alone in the summer heat,

twists tremulously through the ripples of cool.

 

 

 

A soldier, blown apart in a foreign land,

 

 

namelessly graved so far from home,

takes the hand

of the lost traveller, stolen to a sudden death

on the whim of a wicked soul.

An unborn baby, never held,

curls to the breast of the hermit

so long alone

he was never missed.

 

 

 

In the midnight mist, at play, at peace,

 

 

the lost ghosts dance together, across Dead Man’s Lake,

under a distant and lonely sky,

to the chant of the solitary wolf,

under the single and unblinking eye

of the diaphanous moon.

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

oh my GOD,you numerate the miseries of humanity at its most sickly point,most saddening times we have been through ,oh dear you catch all the pains and tell it and cry out and say look how we became ,oh look where at the lowest bottom we reached ,we have no shame no more,its humanity at its lowest morals,it stands naked for all the world the moon ,the sun to see ,it lost all shame and even proud to stand like that...a wailing child ,you say,abandoned on a desert roadside ,left striving to die,frozen against the frozen grounds,still you go on..an unloved mother,aged overlooked ,left to perish in the summer heat,a soldier,blown apart in a foreign land,namelessly graved so far from home,stolen,you go on ,to a sudden death,on the whim of a wicked soul ,again on the whim of a wicked soul,an unborn baby curls to the breast of a hermit,so you tell,so long alone he was never missed,oh my dear you make a brief of the torments of humanity ,what wonderful pictures you draw here,i hail you and your wonderful spirit,you are a dreamer dear ,only dreamers will see the vision you saw and told so well ,and told so well