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Insomnia, Illusions and Ghosts (rewrite)


Benjamin
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My index finger rubbed a cherished third eye

until the lodge room appeared.

With gas fires glowing down from the ceiling

and shadows that swirled through the door,

to breathe in another air.

Where all who gathered listened and were heard.

 

And Finbar played his Irish pipes: "Roisinh Dubh."

But paused it in the middle

to insert a jig.. "The Wedding." Before

reverting back to that haunting

significant melody,

which rendered him emotionally drained.

 

A procession of performers came and went:

all of whom I remember well.

And my long dead friend, whose fading eyes were

on the way to leaving him blind;

stood and peered, as though gazing

at some far horizon, and sang alone...

 

"Did you ever see a wild goose sailing o'er the ocean?"

And every last one of them

responded with gusto. "Ranzo... Ranzo..."

And their harmonies echoed from

where both they and I belonged.

In a wraith-like mind, which knows no censor.

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Fascinating scene, well titled. Lush, yet sensitive, an emotive rush of

Insomnia, Illusions and Ghosts.

 

Well done!

 

Juris

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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Thanks for reading and leaving comment Juris:

Finbar's pipe tune "Roisin Dubh" was metaphor for Ireland and the jig, his dream of re-unification.

My recollection of the 1952 film biopic "Moulin Rouge" surfaced: where in the final scene Henri Toulouse Lautrec, turns his head and watches " phantasmal characters from his Moulin Rouge paintings, dance into the room to bid him goodbye" G.

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  • 4 weeks later...

I can't comment on the whole because the subject is a little too far removed for me, but I would like to point out a couple of favorite lines:

 

... With gas fires glowing down from the ceiling

and shadows that swirled through the door,

to breathe in another air...

 

... And their harmonies echoed from

where both they and I belonged.

In a wraith-like mind, which knows no censor.

 

I love the part about the "gas fires glowing down from the ceiling." It reminds me of Larkin's "light spreads darkly downwards from the high / clusters of lights ..." It really sets the mood and takes me there, as does the "mind, which knows no censor."

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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