I have been sending out too many old poems and not enough new ones. I figure it's time.to wrap this up. That isn't to say there won't be any further poetry coming, not just as usual. With that I will leave you with a Halloween poem, although it was never intended to be one.
Mind the Specters
Banshees haunt the deepest train lines
on London's Underground with flickering
lights and earsplitting complaints.
Layer upon layer of civilizations
agitated by mechanical worms now
grubbing the earth with passengers
across bone orchards long crumbled,
returned again to black dirt and dross.
Noise abatement on the upper lines
provokes deafening din on the lowest.
175 feet down the ancients cry out anew.
The riders nettled, but carriage operators
hurtle on, sporting newly issued ear plugs.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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