Lughnasa (Ghosts of Saturday Night)

Once again, I managed to convince myself to note down a little ‘poem’ once I’d crawled into bed, entirely as a means to escape the cold. I actually really like some of the imagery I used in this one, and I think I’ll incorporate it (in some form) into that much longer poem I’m working on with a great deal more seriousness than I do with these shorter pieces. You remember that? The once vaguely inspired by Comstock’s London Pleasures?

Yeah, that’s still going on, it’s just taking a long time to get anywhere with; if I was actually any good a poetry, I imagine it would be a lot easier.

Anywho, here’s Lughnasa (Ghost of Saturday Night). Check me out, using parenthesis and everything!

The empty air beside me is occupied,
taken; thin air made thick,
by the Ghosts of Saturday Night
and the still-births of those early hours.

2014-11-23 09.57.29
Y’know, I think my handwriting gets even worse when I’m shattered. Especially as I was one line too short to fit the whole thing one, and I’m not wasting another page in my ‘rapidly’ filling notepad. Guess I know what I’ll need for Christmas!

My duvet, about us both like a shawl, is a guilty discomfort,
and I’m still enwrapped in (American) jeans and shirt-sleeves.
We’re alone, the ghosts and I and our plights
are the same, old alcohol-thieving our power;
like Hood stole from the poor.

My profile’s shadow is a handsome one,
cropped figure, quizzical silhouette,
he turns away when I look, avoids my sight,
and occupies himself with memories, of flowers
and women, collated around a nightclub’s door,
like blood cells around a wound;
who think feminism must encourage the demeanour of a whore.

The men are no better;
shaft’s in silk and haphazardly cut heads,
veins protruding from purpling flesh; they think they want to fight,
as I evening dream of ancient times, of Lughnasa’s bowers,
erected by a sparkling river or a mist-wreathed moor,
and burnt, attacked by a million fire flies, far too soon.
Seats of wood and twisted flora, positioned like a fisherman’s lure,
for memories, and love, and the Ghosts of Saturday Night.

Thanks for reading! Remember, if you’re on the actual blog-site, there are a few free short stories to download in the ‘Things I’ve Written’ link bar to the top right, along with links to both of my weird ‘experimental’ stuff I tried out at university, which are now both available on Smashwords as well, and all the other sites such an inclusion provides!

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