NaPoWriMo 2023 Day 19


Photo Credit: Florian Lidin

From the NaPoWriMo site:

And without further ado, here’s our daily (optional) prompt. For this challenge, start by reading Marlanda Dekine’s poem “My Grandma Told Stories or Cautionary Tales.” One common feature of childhood is the monsters. The ones under the bed or in the closet; the odd local monsters that other kids swear roam the creek at night, or that parents say wait to steal away naughty children that don’t go to bed on time.

Now, cast your mind back to your own childhood and write a poem about something that scared you – or was used to scare you – and which still haunts you (if only a little bit) today.

Happy (shivery spooky) writing!

The Ghost

The ghost in grandma’s attic
always left me shook
I heard the creaks and clatters
of all the steps he took.

I knew he wafted through the walls
of every floor and space,
but the attic in my closet
was his very favorite place.

Nighttime he’d begin by knocking,
Scraping, scratching,screeching;
I never knew just where he was
or if he’d come a reaching.

For many years I felt the fear
creeping up into my bones;for if I closed my eyes I knew
my soul the ghost would own.

I wonder if the ghost still lives
in grandma’s former dwelling;
for stories of his haunting deeds
still told are quite compelling.

—Carla Jeanne

NaPoWriMo 2023 Day 11


Photo Credit: Ashkan Forouzani

I believe we haunt ourselves
with the people we love;
dead ideas and memories
becoming ghosts inside of us—

The furrowed sandbars
hidden under the surface
of every day life.
The dead speak to us;

they still know how to sing—-
it takes shape in the moonlight.
It lives in the shadows
of our lost dreams.

My ears hurt to listen—
those damn ghosts
interfering again with my life.
In midnight meetings,

I feel misled,
missed. Like the undead,
I feel unseen in the haunting.

We are all ghosts,
I suppose, carrying
inside us, all the people
who came before.

If I could let go,
I certainly would.
Right? I mean,
wouldn’t you?

The sadness of everything
leaves a heavy footprint
on my soul; a glimpse of truth
better left unspoken.

—Carla Jeanne

NaPoWriMo 2022 Day 23 Ghosts in Late Summer


Thank you and shoutout to Ashkan Forouzani who made this image available for free on Unsplash.

Today the challenge was to write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan, whose poems tend to be short and snappy – with a lot of rhyme and soundplay. They also have a deceptive simplicity about them, like proverbs or aphorisms.

Once you’ve read a few, you’ll see what the poetry task was all about. You can read them here: “Token Loss,” “Blue China Doorknob,” “Houdini,” and “Crustacean Island.”

I’m not sure if I accomplished it, but here is my poem for today.

Happy reading!

Ghosts in Late Summer

Words hung
softly, but still
too loud
for a dead
thing. All that
remained of summer
seemed spent, so
I ran straight
away into
the chill
of autumn
nipping. Never mind
the plotted hours
of living where
we found
stolen strength
to see past
what was
in front of
our eyes. When
I heard
your last
whisper through
the wall, I
wasn’t ready
to face winter
alone. I felt
lost, for we
loved deeply
and without
many words. Imagine
then my surprise
at the loud
voice of
your ghost.