08-22-2025, 01:24 PM
I've been in a poetry writing slump... so I have been a little MIA. I tend to be this way with poetry. It's like a rollercoaster. I write frantically, and then nothing for a few months. Anyways... here is a recent piece I would like a little critique on.Â
Ghosts of Summer
In the sweltering August heat,
ghosts roam my quiet home,
hobbies long forgotten
in the buzzing electric light.
The spirits, empty,
long to remember
the passions that once
hung their hearts before the crowd.
And here I sit,
listening to their woeful cries,
as the summer folds into itself,
to hibernate among the bears.
Yet through weeping whispers,
I understand their burdens—
They are no longer shackled
to all that is burdensome.
They are too free for their own good,
endless time like a blanket to suffocate,
not to warm them
in the earthly cold.
Ghosts of Summer
In the sweltering August heat,
ghosts roam my quiet home,
hobbies long forgotten
in the buzzing electric light.
The spirits, empty,
long to remember
the passions that once
hung their hearts before the crowd.
And here I sit,
listening to their woeful cries,
as the summer folds into itself,
to hibernate among the bears.
Yet through weeping whispers,
I understand their burdens—
They are no longer shackled
to all that is burdensome.
They are too free for their own good,
endless time like a blanket to suffocate,
not to warm them
in the earthly cold.