Ghost Town: Port West - Poem by Glenn Bagshaw
Once she had died, then I went to Port West
to plunge in town's undertow of sorrows.
The shore in time is surf as well, as crest
of flowing spray will throw down tomorrows.,
Always something drowns our days. She fit
in gloved spume's grasp, white-capped hands on the take.
But there are other ways. and now MInd, culprit,
conjures her shattered where sea mirrors break.
Again she dies, and, Port West, has doors in streets
hear silence speak. Windowed faces stay pained; .
and, slouched in half-dreams, one, at waxed floors, meets
her-she drifts, twists, wails; she sinks unsustained.
The real? Killer's skill that slays musically.
Hear- but fear dirges. Steer clear of the sea.
Comments about Ghost Town: Port West by Glenn Bagshaw
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You