Ghost Boy Tales. Pt 1

Wayne Duckworth
Jul 27, 2017 · 1 min read
Photo by Josh Marshall on Unsplash

From the ether the coliseum rose,

each punch and kick landed,

to repeat a violent routine

all he knew, but well practiced

a dance of masculine ideal.

The orchestra sang loudly

to crush out their own fear,

a collective opiate to numbness

a circle of dis-harmony,

safety, hiding in their numbers.

You fell, a long way to fall,

a featherless fledgling

ousted from the safety of the nest

and a crow’s sharp beak

pecked relentlessly at your breast.

I fled, took the sharp pain away

escaped to make you safe

alone, a row boat no oars, adrift,

and me without form, weightless

but still tethered to your chest.

I am not dead,

but I died nonetheless

away from you, my form

my corporeal, blood and bones

a place to sit, feel the sun, call home.

Weightless

formless

longing for the time

you feel me,

tugging

to come home

to lay my head

and rest.


If you enjoyed the poem or would like to leave your thoughts please leave them below and recommend too. Part two of the Ghost Boy Tales is here

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Wayne Duckworth

Written by

Children's picture book author, novelist and poet. Yogi. World nomad. Embracing the awesome queer, geek and freak. Medium member since 1 April 2017 (no joke!)

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