Three Ghosts Poem by Naveed Akram

Three ghosts to the head of my thoughts
Have the bowels to fuss over my teapots.
Three are beauty and homage and kindness,
Names suited on the characteristics of their blindness.
The charmed sword was angry from my hand,
It bit a gash from the spooks on this land.
I am inclined to stand on the beds and argue
On their selfishness, and the very barbecue.
It smelt glad of their feet, of their feat, of all,
Like the clamour of the thunder and rainfall.