november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind



Little Ghost

A feisty little ghost he is,
my spectral guttersnipe.
He was only eight years old,
this tiny survivor of many brawls
with his running nose, bare feet,
chipped, broken teeth
and dirt streaked face,
no buttons on his frayed jacket.

He worked odd  jobs
from early dawn ‘til dusk,
sweeping streets, selling matches
and ostrich feathers,
running the gentry’s errands
for farthings or food
or picking their pockets
for silk handkerchiefs.

He knows a lot of things
a child should not know
about being cold and hungry,
of floggings and the scars they leave,
served time in dirty cells at Newgate prison,
smoking and playing cards
with the other condemned
to relieve the inertia of waiting.

So I just let him sit
in front of the bird cage,
listening to the chirping chorus,
unsure if he is trapped here
like those birds
or if he just enjoys being
an untroubled child for once.

© november child
in response to: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Wordle #123 ‘October 3rd, 2016’
guttersnipe/chorus/birdcage/spectral/(late)/break/dusk/serve/(crow’s mile)/button/brawl/inertia

photo credit: Wikipedia



I was left behind on a desert road
that was never mine to travel,
where dust devils spat sand in my eyes,
and taunted my staggering advance.

I suffered their mocking whirl,
felt them parch my waning spirit,
relishing my desperation
and snickering at my slow demise.

But I left my faltering footprints
embossed in the burning tarmac
and with poisonous blood
I signed my name in the cracks.

I condemn you to notice
my bleached broken bones
on the side of the road
whenever you pass them by.

I mercilessly haunt you
with flickering glimpses
of longed for destinations,
I make sure you will never reach.


© november child
photo credit: dkharvie via flickr


You are the landslide
I did not expect
ripping the floor
from underneath my feet.

Untethered from my world
I stare at your back
as you head for new grounds
to bury in your wake.

And all that remains is
the ghost of a smile.


 © november child
photo credit: Sherri Terris via flickr


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