Thursday September 8th, 2011

The exercise:

Today we write a little something that has to do with: the ghost town.

The front of the house got its first coat of paint this morning. Very excited. Unfortunately further work will have to wait until Monday night or Tuesday.

Mine:

They come from all over,
In all shapes and sizes;
With guide books and cameras,
They seek long lost prizes.

My poor dusty windows,
Now riddled with handprints!
They light up dark corners,
With no hint of conscience.

I just want to slumber,
Not suffer this refrain;
If they don't depart soon,
My dead will walk again.

4 Comments:

Greg said...

I'm a little concerned that painting the house has made you think of ghost-towns, but since it's produced that great little poem I'll not worry too much. Telling the story from the perspective of the ghost town itself is a neat twist (and now I have to think of another idea for myself!) I particularly like the second verse, the windows are a fantastic image.

The ghost town

Horologist,
Does time exist?
And if it persists,
What happens between now and then?

In the passing instant
When ghosts walk,
And reality fades,
And the future forks,
When the streets are filled
With the lonely souls
Clutching fleeting warmth
That they only stole,

Does time exist,
Horologist?

Dawn M. Hamsher said...

Marc,
Good prompt choice. Here's my quick one:

Old buzzards sit on park benches yapping about the old days. Old hens run into each other at the family grocery store and discuss Aunt Bea's new hair color.

There are no daycares, no community centers, no playgrounds in this town. For those you need to go two towns over. No, this town is going to bed and watching Nick at Night.

Marc said...

Greg - it was, thankfully, a completely unrelated thought :)

Thank you! And, as it turns out, I really like your second stanza as well!

Dawn - haha, wonderfully done. Had to read it twice to fully get it. I blame the fact that I should already be in bed myself :P

Anonymous said...

Call me morbid, but my soul is a ghost-town. All the occupants of my being have left - all sense of emotion gone, all caring ceasing to exist. All too soon this all will fade, just like the light that used to shine within my soul.