Drifting by my window
on a cold dark winters eve,
no sound, nor chasing echo,
no path to follow or deceive.
A silent spectre; a mask of scorn,
a hazy memory, from life ’twas torn.
Jealously wanting what now it resents,
a rage no mortal can perceive or prevent.
The pulsing obsession of detached desire,
feeding the flames and stoking the fires
as it tries to cross the bridge to our plane,
resolute, relentless; a moth to a flame.
Pushing at the fabric with all of its will,
dull red eyes ignoring the light, until
with a cry of despair it relents and fades,
slowly drifting between intangible shades.
Written by Darren Scanlon, October 2009
This revised version written, 10th April 2015.
This poem is part of the Poetry Book “Positively Poetic – Volume 1“
(1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)Communicative poems relating to Dark Gentle thoughts about Death Classic Life* Poems
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5 Comments on "Spectre"
lovely write, beautiful read. you have a style of your own.
Thank You Asoke
ORIGINALLY WRITTEN October 2009
Wonderful Darren it was on the lines of my DEAFTING EVIL too much Edgar Alan Poe for me.
I suspect yours is maybe from some memory resurfing???
By the way your Hey Up Matron was a laugh a minute but oh yes I can see all
of that happening too.
Take care
Thanks Johanna, Glad you liked it. I don’t really remember what this was about, but there you go. So glad you enjoyed Matron and thanks for your 5* review, much appreciated. spread the word please….
D.