A wee little pig I have become,
My mind wallows in mud and scum,
Hairs that sprout from my chinny-chin-chin,
Bulging flesh and stretching skin,
With fragile walls too easily blown
By the big bad wolves I long have known,
As weak as sticks or straw, my heart,
Too used to being torn apart.
Please shield me with your house of bricks,
Protect me from life’s cruellest kicks,
A place to which my heart can roam,
And a love to carry me all the way home.
Emma H, age 26, 14/08/2017
I am plagued by ghosts.
Phantom memories haunting,
Teasing and taunting;
Eerie unending onslaught
Of past polluting present.
Draw a spectral smile –
Soon banished by the thought that
Now cannot compare to Then.
Emma H, age 26, 12/10/2017
A double tanka especially for Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Challenge Week 54 – “Ghost” & “Haunt”. To find out how to take part in the challenge, you can follow the link here:
Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Tuesday Challenge No. 54: GHOST & HAUNT
I think my first stanza is better, but didn’t fully convey that the haunting memories were happy ones rather than regrets – hence the addition of the second stanza. I find that happy memories can be horribly bittersweet, especially when going through rough times in life or mental health. Thanks to Colleen for the prompt!
When I was fifteen, I ran away from home.
I had no idea where I was going. I just snatched my dad’s rusted old sports bike from our ramshackle shed and pedalled as fast as my legs could manage. My ears were ringing from the argument. Blood pounding in my head and adrenaline coursing through my body. I cycled through town and out onto the coastal road, towards the darkening western sky. Before long, I reached the cliffs. I leaned the bike against a post and snagged my jeans climbing over the barbed wire fence. I approached the edge of the world, the drop into oblivion. Paused… then sat, hugging my knees into my chest, and burst into tears.
The ghosts of my former self
Lurk in the shadows of my mind;
Ethereal temporal echoes,
Ever-present relics of the past
The ghosts of myself past
Linger on my shoulder,
Teasing, taunting, haunting;
They make my blood run colder.