Tag Archives: ghosts

ghosts and demons

my ghosts and demons are not dressed up in cheap costumes

looking B movie extra ready

my zombies aren’t privileged youths indulging adolescent fantasies

in my world demons wake you up at 3 in the morning

haunting you with labyrinthian thoughts of debts and closed doors

or arrive in recycled grey envelopes from the taxman

with impossible demands to pay them twice the amount of your last refund

my ghosts are the second guesses

regrets that hang like spanish moss

or Miss Havisham’s tattered bed curtains

in my world we’ve shuddered at thoughts of an unwanted pregnancy

where masked reapers harvest the stillborn

snatching happiness from cradles

there are no doorbell ringing hobgoblins here

in my world they make pre-emptive strikes

exploding you with tricks like crumbling bodies

and sixteen kinds of crazy shit a day

in my world we see through masks to skeletal truths

held together by abstractions, chewing gum and thought ghosts

so if you are wondering why I don’t appear to be into Halloween

its only because its something that sticks around all year

tricking and treating unceasingly



David Trudel     ©   2013




Filed under Poetry


I knew you as a ghost

That’s what you seemed to be

Halfway in and halfway out

Of here, whatever this place is

On the edge of almost


But you?


You showed up in places

Now and then places


Never quite committing

To reality


Still, you haunt me


I like it


I like the frisson of ripped

I like the weird in the wonder

The wonder of what goes on

In your stewed consciousness

When you think about me


When descent meets ascent

Inside the unframed glimmer

A corner of your eye

Almost but not quite catches

An intention of possibility

Thus, friction fractions

And we are left, bereft

Of might have beens

And almost was

Gone for dreaming




David Trudel  ©  2013



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Filed under Poetry

Shrouded and Cloaked

This is the kind of day

Shrouded and cloaked in clouds and showers

A day with no exclamation marks

This is the kind of day when he would have called

To share a groaner of a pun

Match calendars for lunch

Or just to see if I was still alive

Which of course he isn’t

Some ghosts linger longer than others

I’ve had my share of losses over a lifetime

Sometimes it isn’t the pain of the loss as much

As it’s empathy with the bereaved

Like the time a classmate’s younger brother

Was struck down in a traffic accident

I will always be haunted by the memory of his mother’s eyes

Noticed obliquely a few months later when I was over at their house

Her eyes shiny as polished chrome but full of grief’s infinity

Some ghosts seem bound to places

Where they passed or where we shared a moment

Or maybe a song will shuffle its way into a tendril

Of sweet remembrance

A recollection of spectral intensity

This is the kind of day

When spirits walk beside me

Shrouded and cloaked

In clouds and showers



David Trudel   ©  2013




Filed under Poetry


Half-moon rises in twilight sky

Pulling halfway crazies in tow

As the year turns, spirits shake loose

From sepulchers and hidden halls

Slipping into the frosted light of dusk

Sliding from time to place and place to time

In time and out of it

Placed and displaced

Disturbing wobbles of another dimension

Not quite in focus

But enough to set the dogs barking

Hackles rising

As they sniff that faint whiff of sulfur

Crackle of ozone

As I too feel the ripple of the veil

That shades our world


David Trudel  ©  2012



Filed under Poetry