My dusty mind is filled
with old memories,
lost amongst poems
I dribbled on to the window sill
one morning.

I got lost in the shuffle of time,
thoughts brought me
ink drippings from
the night before,
though I already ate
the leftovers and smeared
my poems all over the walls.

You may join me
for a Gothic meel,
just don't forget to bring
your open minds
so I don't have to knock
or ring the bell.

Welcome to my gloomy day,
where black is happy,
blue is true, and the roses
withered at your feet
though they smell lovely.

(slowly the poems crumbled
in my mouth) the ofter taste
was lovely, a bit of gloom was
left hanging from my lips.

Such taboos I display,
should I speak in ghostly whispers,
so the spirit's can hear me too?

Shshsh!
I am not finished with you yet.

Come back soon and I will write you
another Gothic poem.

For I am the weathered poet.

© 2018 By Amanda Shelton

Stare into me.
Flare up and fly to me.
My ghostly gaze falls into your eyes,
Let these phantom fingers caress your curves,

Our ethereal tangle,
As we pass through reality
Into the hills and valleys on our bodies,

Close your eyes,
And see me with your skin.

Intoxicate me with your sinful quivers,
As I ride on the highways of your sighs.

Come closer,
And I'll show you a differently perfect side of our world.



~Robert van Lingen

Little lady next
door dressed in 1920
long grey skirt and blouse

goes out everyday
with her hair tied in a bun
wearing black boot shoes

she quietly walks the
pavements amoungst a lot of
other people

buildings seem so big
no horse and cart just metal
things with four wheels

no kids play outside
so smiley happy go
lucky children

instead she sees a glow
from each child's hand , there eyes
engrossed in something!!

yet the sky stays the same
just differs in colours , clouds appear happy or sad

the sun shines the moon
glows and stars continue to
twinkle starry bright

trees never change ,  she
smiles at natures will to never
change its beauty

a China man bumps
into her , they both stare for
a second or two

then off they walk on
pavements amoungst a lot
of other people

Out of the blue
And into the black
A thought passed through my head
It was you who crossed my heart
And went right out
The exit wound

sometimes i think the shades are Grey are moving
where all these weeping sound of wind are creeping
chills and spine when i'm all alone
might be  some staring
sometimes they are singing under a moonlight
i don't know maybe i'm imagining stuff night
when dogs are barking non stop all day
thats when they come
to take
or to claim
they are here to stay.

A home of fallen dreams
and wishes made upon dead stars
of feathers and fungal dreams
brushing gently your tendril wings
rearranging your wisps of hair
like ghostly fingers
in thin air