Alexander Averin

Wednesday, 12 March 2014



A hotel room, tumbledown, gone to wrack and ruin. 
On the table,  the TV,  friend of the loner,
As always,when time has warped,
once-upon-a –time echoes sing out to me
All around  is mouldered, mildewed,
a home now for mice amongst dilapidation. 
Lights flicker, even the power is fading; 
I sense a ghost upon the dusty boards, 
oppressive remnants of a life fill me with dread,
the atmosphere, first cloying, now chilling.
I slip away and leave the memories behind
of perhaps the tragic  lives of those passed on,
who left us only embers of their past still burning,
smouldering still within such  eeriness.

Cait O’Connor

Another poem for Magpie Tales.


Tess Kincaid said...

Sometimes moving on is the only thing to do...

Kutamun said...

Yes i think objects do very much retain something of the essence of their former owner , which is why i am always wary of old things , and curious about their history .
Generally a good airing out on the deck for a few months does wonders , a little sandalwood , perhaps , some words of encouragement for the next phase of their journey !

kaykuala said...

One can only guess of what life it had been for those who were there earlier. Ghostly now but could have been wonderful then. Nicely Cait!


Helena said...

So true and sometimes those embers never burn out. Fabulous piece!

Other Mary said...

A haunting write Cait. You really have the atmosphere.

Procrastinator extraodinaire said...

So clever using photo's for inspiration.

~T~ said...

Well done!

Managua Gunn said...

Very strong juxtaposition.