Seasonal Ghosts

Fallen leaves, sudden colors surround our steps
this season of the encroaching frost, where breath
shivers surfeit with ghosts, phantasms of shade and shape
lingering on the outskirts of our gaze, entrapped
to swirl in gossamer guise of follies unguessed
flesh and blood whose course ran verdure green
but now, as the dry veined leaves, pose beleaguered
papery skinned revenants awaiting All Hallows’ Eve
as if deserving no more than our own fading grins.


note: Charles Baudelaire’s famous poem “The Revenant” should haunt every evocation of revenants. Check out this translation of the poem at Sublime Terror.

Lisa hosts Dverse's "Poetics 427: Mussenden’s Temple"
Write a poem (in any form) using the word "folly."
Check out all the responses at Mr. Linky.

24 thoughts on “Seasonal Ghosts”

  1. Such a well-constructed poem, Dora. My favorite lines:
    “the dry veined leaves, pose beleaguered
    papery skinned revenants awaiting All Hallows’ Eve
    as if deserving no more than our own fading grins.”
    I like the way you took this reader from fallen leaves, brought them to mesmerizing mystery, and back again.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Rob, for your kind comments. The sense of being in a disoriented state of fear, not knowing where the threat lies, is unforgettable in the Blair Witch Project.

      Like

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