Unholy Ghosts

We tread paths, criss-cross this silent ground,
Leaving vapour trails of lost hope
In this garden of distrust.

We wait, lamenting what once was ours
But now’s lost in the mists and tears.
Of the mourners at the graves

That unquiet souls have vacated.
Just bones and dust are left behind
We have emigrated, gone.

Yet earthbound we still remain,
Cursed to wander this domain.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


Exhalation of Water

photo credit: VinceFL MacroMondays_Bubbles2 001 via photopin (license)

A momentary calm
Like the heart breaths before
The exhalation of water
From the lungs of a drowning man.

A baptism of desire,
Of cold, cold fire.
The absence of touch
In a universe without feeling.
Just the biology of the vacuum
Without emotion only needing,

Then the tsunami.
Colours exploding, overwhelming;
Like a million hands
Reaching out of the darkness
Touching skin, caressing my mind.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.


photo credit: chiaralily Falling via photopin (license)

This tension isn’t tension anymore.
The moment remains a moment nothing more
Not static electricity but stasis.
The erotic drift stalled by the current,
Yet life goes on. Living out our loves
In isolation, suspended animation.
Living life each of us, you and I,
Within an impregnable dome.
A force field created to keep the pain out
That only succeeds in keeping love at bay.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.