Where Ghosts Still Lurk

Where Ghosts Still Lurk short poem

Photo by AlicePopkorn

Nothing just Leaves
Without the residues.
Limbs cut off, leave
Phantom ones;
Itchy, scratchy ghosts of
Those cleaved off an unsuspecting trunk.

In sleepless nights,
We feel for the ring,
In a finger crossed out in red
From a hand that long left the clasp.
Sense the sweetness of supple lips
Which no longer seek yours for a kiss.

When crows, a murder of them
Caw Caw in delirious pitches
In a frantic phantom urge, still
Sneak in and nuzzle into a
A familiar warmth, a ghost now left.

Phantom limbs,
Phantom pains,
Nothing stays,
Nothing just leaves.

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Arun M Sivakrishna

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A reluctant writer and a sunday photographer. Recently published a collection of poems "Songs Of A Solitary Tree". Writes in English and malayalam
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3 Comments on "Where Ghosts Still Lurk"

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kwai chee low

A lovely poem, hauntingly nostalgic of the end of life and the beginning of another existence in the spirit world. Thank you for sharing, Arun.

Geetha Paniker

Whether it is a part of your body or a feeling, the empty zipped part of you haunts and lurks behind …empty spaces of life do haunt always. This leaves you with a deep gnawing pain.


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