(Not getting as much time as I would at the moment to write little
notes before all of these pieces but hope you are still enjoying them.
Todays is from the point of view of a cleaner who saw everything)
Next guest poet is a young lady from near Bantry, Southern Ireland
who wrote a wonderful poem last year for Ghost Story I, Siofra Martin
who has again wrote another lovely poem. Her poem for those interested
from last year can be seen again here - http://napowrimo2014.blogspot.co.uk/2014/04/guest-poet-7-siofra-martin-ghost.html)
XII
Percussive his words
Barely left his lips
Describing what happened
Cartwheeling with stumbles
And his mop bucket
Started biting at his ankles
Sheared in
emotion
Cast not out by sunset
But by frozen breath
Failing in his own grief
He didn’t have the courage
To do what he saw others do.
Memories
i can
see it, there on the side
a
forgotten memento of times gone by
showing
a holiday, hardly remembered
golden
sunlight, around mid-September
colourful
costumes and skin of soft peach
faded
smiles on an indistinct beach
a moment
of summer time happiness that's been
captured
just so- for eternity
a
picturesque scene, recognized by most,
a moon
faced family, depicted by a ghost
Siofra Martin
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