Devious Bloggery

Dumpster Diving for Your Love – Canto XVI

Beneath the full moon’s eerie, silken glow,
John wandered, thoughts of Aura swirling wild.
Into black-mirrored meditation room, slow,
Where reflections of him aging beguiled.
Each glass, a step in time’s deep flow,
His youth behind him, gently filed.
But fear took hold, a chilling sight,
A ghostly figure clad in the night.

In oldest reflection, the ghost behind,
In black, loomed, then faded from view.
John turned, his breath confined,
The specter's exit left him ashen-hued.
The room of mirrors, once aligned,
Now a corridor of dread, as his fright grew.
Back to his bed, his spirit tossed,
By visions of the dead, in darkness lost.

Morning found him pale, disturbed,
Aura and Addy noted his ghastly mien.
“Father Slade’s ghost, perhaps,” Henry blurted,
“The preacher’s soul, in surf last seen.”
Addy then, her melodica skirted,
Sang of Slade, in tones serene:

“Oh, Father Slade, with Sex Wax and grace,
Blessed our surfboards, with holy embrace.
Spirit on these shores now forever cast,
Catching gnarly waves, first to the last.”

As noon climbed high, the day’s plan set,
With beach runs long and a photo shoot,
For Meat Week’s feature, a glossy vignette,
While architects show off designs astute.
A young runaway shows, with eyes of regret,
At the door of Sandy Palms, hopes moot.
Refusal she meets, her age the cause,
Sad emoji on a day otherwise filled with applause.

That night dinner grand, big Hollywood affair,
Celebrities, influencers, a dazzling scene.
Aura’s gaze caught John unawares,
Interest kindled, where none had been.
Addy's harsh laughter later filled the air,
Mocking those gone, an insecure scene.
John and Aura abstained, their quiet kept,
Him from fatigue and her from respect.

But night always returns, and with it fears,
As John lay awaiting the ghost’s return.
The door creaked open, tickling his ears
And his breath and blood did within him burn.
He reached out, through spectral sheer,
Touched not cold mist, but warm skin firm.
Fitzie B., in bold, black disguise unveiled,
Under hoodie’s shadow, her prank derailed.

#national poetry writing month #poem #poetry #writing