A poetic journey through my mind

Ghost Story

the wind that whistles through the eaves sings his lullaby,
the leaves that blow through the open door whisper hush now, don’t you cry,
upstairs in the attic a cradle rocks softly, lulling him to sleep,
and out on the hill the tombstone reads simply “Baby, lost to the deep”.

15 responses

  1. lensscribbles

    very haunting

    March 22, 2012 at 10:25 pm

  2. Well measured, both in the wording and in the managing of the emotion. An accomplished piece of writing.

    March 23, 2012 at 8:36 am

  3. KC

    Thank you both…it’s funny, some of the pieces I considered “fluff” or to small to worry about, are the ones that are getting the best comments. It’s giving me a chance to re-examine my several and disparate writing styles, and focus on one or the other at a time. Speaking of which, over on my other blog, I intend to start putting up pages from my possible book. If anyone would like to check them out, I’d really appreciate any comments, positive or negative!


    March 23, 2012 at 11:37 am

    • “some of the pieces I considered “fluff” or too small to worry about, are the ones that are getting the best comments.”

      Snap. 😀 Are they crazy … or is it maybe me?

      March 23, 2012 at 2:58 pm

      • KC

        *laughs* I hope not! You and all the others who’ve liked and been so helpful in their comments are lifting me from the proverbial slough, and showing me that -all- my work has value, even the bad ones. (I haven’t put any of the bad stuff up yet…maybe I’ll do that this weekend…all the sappy Hallmark balogna I’ve written over the years. ;p)

        March 23, 2012 at 5:32 pm

  4. How the death of an infant especially pierces the heart! You have poetically captured this reality just perfectly!

    March 23, 2012 at 11:53 am

  5. ewe?? and ?? seriously very clever!! xx

    March 23, 2012 at 1:04 pm

  6. George Weaver

    Beautifully written poetry. A universal story in four lines. The imagery is perfectly drawn and the poetry flows like silk.

    March 23, 2012 at 5:15 pm

    • KC

      Thank you! I tried to make it have a sort of lullaby rhythm…I wanted it to sound as sleepy-sad as the story image looks.

      March 23, 2012 at 5:26 pm

      • George Weaver

        And you did. You are the best of the best I’ve encountered here.

        March 23, 2012 at 6:46 pm

        • KC


          Wow. *blinks* Thank you doesn’t quite seem enough…but it’s all I’ve got, at the moment. 😉

          Careful, or you’ll make me cry, and then my keyboard’ll get all soggy…and do you know what it’s like to type with a soggy keyboard?? *giggles, hugs* Seriously, thank you. That has to be one of the sweetest things anyone ever said to me. I hope I can keep making people smile and/or think…or both. That’s what a poem should do.

          March 23, 2012 at 6:57 pm

          • George Weaver

            Carry on, Child! 😉

            March 24, 2012 at 4:59 am

      • elmediat

        Agree with George. Effective use of the lullaby motif in structure and content. Captures the mixture of sentimentality & the supernatural that is often found in Victorian & Edwardian pieces.

        April 3, 2012 at 10:30 pm

  7. You’ve truly captured something hallowed here…Brings to mind some of the old child gravesites I’ve come across within my strolls through old overgrown graveyards, so sad yet such haunting beauty. You’ve really encapsuled a sacred instant in time and timelessness…

    March 27, 2012 at 6:51 am

  8. The pick of Ben Naga’s Newly Discovered Beauties for March 2012.


    April 24, 2012 at 7:38 pm

Talk to me, people! ;)

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