I spent my life as a ghost
drifting lost through the halls
knocking on the closed doors
immaterial against their charm
a mere shadow by life’s gauge
with a past the most can’t see
while I dread the future times
existing longer than I dare
in response I mark my time
exploring themes most avoid
by this measure I am lost
a phantom seeking what most avoid
moaning poems to be heard
these enchantments from the muse
delivered a mantra daily shared
asking a world to bear witness
the themes of life are countable
on one hand or maybe two
knowing others also struggle
also shades to my form
only a spectre, nothing more
I’ll end my time with a verse
asking for an equal ear
to listen through the keyhole’s width.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180807
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 7:08 PM UTC
I spent my life as a ghost
drifting lost through the halls
knocking on the closed doors
immaterial against their charm
a mere shadow by life’s gauge
with a past the most can’t see
while I dread the future times
existing longer than I dare
in response I mark my time
exploring themes most avoid
by this measure I am lost
a phantom seeking what most avoid
moaning poems to be heard
these enchantments from the muse
delivered a mantra daily shared
asking a world to bear witness
the themes of life are countable
on one hand or maybe two
knowing others also struggle
also shades to my form
only a spectre, nothing more
I’ll end my time with a verse
asking for an equal ear
to listen through the keyhole’s width.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180807
The poem “Keyhole’s Width” is about the apparent isolation of individuals, and the power of the written word to build brides, even if the portal is as small as a keyhole.
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