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Do long-deceased ghosts recite poetry in the spaces in-between?

It's rather strange seeing things you've created, sitting quietly smiling, on your bookshelf. 

Like all authors, we share an unusual gift. 

Of different degrees, obviously.

My baseline seems to stem from my beloved mother.

She was so into the unseen realm. 

A real mystic, so it must be a generational thing.

Is part of all we are, the struggles and dreams of so many fallen others?

Ancestors, lovers, family and friends.

What would you say 

If you could come back one last time

 After your final great spiritual fall 

Announcing to the living world, you still live after your end?

All my books are whispers I sometimes hear, and translate into words.

Do ghosts speak in poetry?

A lone voice whispers

In the darkness of sleep, an angel called Poetry appeared.

She whispered tales of how many would visit and pass on stories as I slept.


She whispered I was simply a conduit from the Abyss and with a parting soft kiss, she disappeared and then the voices appeared.

The following are all those whispers in the middle of the night, within a year or so, of those strange ethereal dreams.

Where strange unknown visitors suddenly appeared within my lucid deep streams.


Do long-deceased ghosts recite poetry in the spaces in-between?

And so it begins with voices in the dark.


As I sit lonely in my darkened room with my black Remington typewriter for company, in my mind’s eye a stage has appeared. 

All black save for a type of spotlight in the middle.


A figure has appeared and stepped into view.

Rugged, bearded and wearing a white shirt and a dark Mac with piercing blue eyes, he speaks.


My name is William, John.

Will you recite our stories to the world oh narrator from the lands of the living?


Who am I to say no, I whisper and so it begins.


William speaks, will you listen?


If you were worth nothing or rich beyond compare

I would still stand beside you and just try to love you



If you were scared frightened or just weighed down with life and all its baggage

I would gladly rush in to carry your burdens


If you were mad or just simply sad

I would quickly reach out with empathy overflowing with an electrifying passion to just embrace you in a hug of complete compassion


If you needed some love and light in the middle of a lifetime

I would just simply appear through inspired lines and prose to hold you tightly



Simply to remind you

All your feelings of guilt or pain are also mine


If you needed anything profound beyond my care or abilities

I would just try to simply love you


For ours is but a silent union dear reader

Free from physical excesses but entwined and spinning endlessly

Lost in the spiritual cosmos beyond time and space



Serenading our opened third eye

As we ride over landscapes of blue and green

Visiting newer realms unseen as two

Shall we begin?

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Here is the link to Mirroring from the Abyss

Copyright John Duffy