A Haunted Room Poem by Naveed Akram

A Haunted Room



It's a room full of ghosts, driving me mad,
Dull and the same, with laughable faces.
I relapse and ask why they torment with wishes,
I never will believe in events of this thinking.

It is too uncomfortable to live in this cherished
Mansion of a house, a long, long void in the head.
Afterward, at this rate we abandon the quest, as it is
Stealing our pockets so identifying the culprit.

Michael spoke about the ghostier ghoul, the phantom,
At what rate it flew, at what task it had striven, like a castle
Or a chart, a heaven or a hell, feeding the weakness
Of the wall, and walls. A sepulchral sound filled us.

The painting was for a moment a bereaving man or soldier,
But then angrier ghosts dropped on their backs,
Doggedly reiterating their code or conduct rules, like
Ghouls or wraiths, like sudden machines of evil.

Michael bespoke the wonders and miracles of a decade,
A pantheist was him, a polytheist was my action,
But then toward the swing of a grandfather clock
Was the overturned bust of a man of scholarship and help.

Yelling around, feeding the pain, and realising death,
We came to a conclusion and fled towards the monument
Glazed and dumbfounded by our ritual, outside in the
Rain of rains, the ghosts of ghosts repaired the night.

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Naveed Akram

Naveed Akram

London, England
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