blowing back the wind

blow

the wind blows
rattling
my house

I hear the protest
of ghosts [b-o-o-o-ooo]
who feel the wind
running
through them

it’s a chill thing
when the wind sings
and runs through you

[b-o-o-o-ooo]

[b-o-o-o-ooo]

blow the wind
I stand at my door
and blow mightily

I blow the wind

back

 

 

back

 

 

back

I blow and I blow
so the ghosts
in my house
are not chilled
or distressed
so that they moan so [b-o-o-o-ooo]

[b-o-o-o-ooo]

[b-o-o-o-ooo]

it’s a chill sound
when the ghosts sing

it runs

it runs

right through you

[b-o-o-o-ooo]

[b-o-o-o-ooo]


© Frank Prem, 2017

October 2017 Poem #30: stuttering staccato

5 thoughts on “blowing back the wind

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